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Waiting for the L. Summer hours. Got out of MARTHA by 2:30, fresh new resume on the desk of my new boss, Robert, or, Bob, through he has never insisted upon truncation to me, or anyone. Until he does, he's Robert.

THe E train just thundered out of nowhere overhead, shaking all the walls around me, us, waiting for the train to pull in and wait. These kinds of things have been happening alot over the last 5 years or so: mistaking thunder, airbrakes on the BQE, subway rumbles or low-flying, hard-banking planes for something else, something familiar that smells of impending catastrophe. But it's just the E. Not a cookie-dough bomb nor "one of those Hezbo types" as Rush declared of the entire Lebonese male population last week. Hesbollah, an organization which has a vicious and venge-thirsty sect acting outside of its core beliefs and civic olicy, as I understand it. They had said that Hussein had a helluva generous health care plan. Not just for himself, but for his people—he provided them with a fair approximation as he could of his ideal world.

I'm off to see WTC.

In line, it's as if the ingredients for the rapture aren't lax to demand pause in the ever-straddling precipice of waiting for the next disaster—someone else's idea of rapture.

The ticket lady said, mechanically, "enjoy the show."

A poster for "Flags of Our Fathers". Tagline: A single shot can end the war. McCain's movie, perhaps.

Other posters: Spidey 3, Covenant, Heroes.

I sit in a single seat, unsurrounded for handicapped access. The armrests I have just pulled down suggest a tray table and seatbelt. I have a medium Cherry Coke and popcorn, unbuttered. I don't want them, but I don't want to challenge my empty-handed witness of The Passion of The Christ. Save for one orange, I sat through that film with nothing but the orange. My conclusion: the Garden of Eden should have offered a citrus option. The apple, to me, was the first orgasm.

There are several different interpretations of what really happened on September 11, 2001. WTC is Oliver Stone's offering of the account of two Port Authority policemen trapped under rubble when the first tower fell. The forces which were represented on that day, I predict, will not be addressed. He will portray a somewhat authentic experience of the officers and their families. The conspiracy world is replete with "100% factual" and detailed uncoverings of the dark truths which loom moreso than ever now. 4 years and 11 months ago. There will be no previews, I'm told. The ads are off and there is a lovely silence. I feel as if I'm at the Terrace, a theater which had a time capsule from 1960 buried in concrete out front, both of which are no more. The film begins.

The first music cue was a country artist with whom I am unfamiliar. The words "September 11, 2001" fade gently their serifs, as the music swells from Nick Cage's SUV, over the expressway to a skyline I really liked with two huge stripes on the southernmost tip, both of which are no more.


The first plane just hit.



The second tower just got hit.

The smoke was much darker than that, as I saw it. Thicker. And the wind was different.

First body.

We're very close.

Someone has brought a baby in a stroller into the theater. 8 months old, maybe.

An incredible performance by the first woman we see running from the lobby through West street, covered in blood.

Debris falls.

There's the lobby.

"Missiles" and "Israeli" and "Pentagon" were just featured in one piece of dialogue.

The first tower just fell.

Why am I watching this?

Second tower just came down.

We are underneath both. The debris is overwhelming. But it's just a set. Doc is dying, under a large lith of concrete. A shot in the air at the moment of death.

The smoke was all alot darker than that.

Nice satellite shot.

Pain is your friend.

WTC 7 just came down. "I'm in hell."

Hey, it's "One-Night" from THE ABYSS.

News broadcasts and statements in the afternoon. Watch them. BUSH IS A LIAR. Look at his face.

Ahh, the Bible. Revelations of John.

Brokaw was bought off.

Giuliani just read his lines.

Godot.

The lone marine.


MARINE:
It's like God has lowered his curtain of smoke,
to hide that which we are not ready to see."

No turn on red.

A faceless Jesus just appeared, offering a bottle of water.

Brokaw: It all happened so quickly and in plain view, the scene was surreal.

Everyone's minds bombed by words, sounds, and images.

Two marines.

Tagline: "Two men saw something different." These marines? Or the cops?

MARINE 2:
We're the Marines. You are our mission.

The only time I cried was when Maggie G. learns that her husband is alive. I love you, Sarah.

They didn't even show how they got him out. They just DID.

Now it's Cage (who named his son Kal-El) alone, under 30 feet of rubble.

That's a fuckin' set.

That was an amazing job of complete destruction.

The next time I cried was when there's been a baby-naming involved.

I feel like the wind was blowing the other way on the morning of the 12th.

MARINE:
(into cellphone)
They're gonna need some good men out there to avenge this. We'll see.


Every cent this movie makes should be donated to the 9/11 truth movement.

FIN.



In the bathroom, three dark-skinned men were joking and laughing after.

Then, I did a girl thing and opted out of washing my hands after seeing that a guy at the sink was wearing the exact same plaid, shoulder-epiletted short-sleeve shirt from H&M that I was wearing, except in the blue-green scheme; mine's in browns and oranges. I never wanted to meet the guy whose hues I choose to refuse. I left.

How soon we forget.

5 years out and they remind us.

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post #32
bio: alec
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8/14/2006
10:51

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