"Cut and paste... are you sitting down?
A hint of suspense when the telephone rings
This is forever."
My mother, my grandma (not my grammy, for the confused) and I went down to Ru!-Ru!-Rutgers (how my mom says it; she's an alum, go figger) to see my brother. We drove down the turnpike, looking for airplanes, and then marvelling when we saw one like it was a new invention of some kind. "I see one! Look! An airplane!" Sickening.
We drove past Newark Airport (where my uncle works; though that's subject to change; (in)Continental is laying of 12,000), examining the daily proceeding there with the slightest of fear. My mother still hasn't made her flight to California. Which is something we talked about later; something I will talk about later. We drove past the Meadowlands, looking at the skyline, almost unidentifyable now, except for the pillar of smoke and dust still rising from downtown Manhattan.
Smoke still rising. "I'm on... the air... you breathe..."
Blah blah Rutgers was boring and my mom and I got in a skirmish over the radio volume. She doesn't like it very loud at all because my grandmother in the back is right by the speakers and can't hear to make conversation. That's the point, though. I wouldn't even complain, but I keep the volume very low as is. And it's not like my grandma ever says anything. She talks a lot, but doesn't say much, y'know? Doesn't matter; I just sing louder. Someday I will have my own damn car with my own damn radio. And my grandma will not be allowed in it, because I will have the windows down, the radio on, and there will be no talking about Helen this and Dottie that.
"Man makes a car she's your destination builds a road to run them on
Man dreams of leaving, but he always stays behind."
On the way back, we had an ass-tastic dinner at Appleby's. Mine was so bad, it was free. Good. I caught a girl making eye contact with me. She was all of... four? Hee hee. Yeah, I'm a real ladies man. I would have been bitter except that I caught some decent-looking women checking me out in the mall earlier, so my self-confidence was (relatively) intact. I kept her amused with that thing I can do with my eyes... namely play pong with them. It was fun. I said, "Bye!" when we left, so hopefully she's not afraid of all strangers, or at least strange people. Sadly, I'm getting to the age where you can't really do that kind of thing anymore without people looking at you funny for liking little kids too much. Fuck you, I'm no pederast. It's not my fault adults are so fucked up. I like kids because they're largely free from prejudices and anger. Even if that makes me sound like Holden Fucking Caulfield. And the children of the world NEED to laugh right now.
The ride home was worse. The lights of the city underlit the rising dust cloud, accentuating it. On the way home, my mother and I mourned the loss of the Windows on the World restaurant; arguably the best in the world.
"Midnight... is where the day begins."
There's a candlelit vigil tomorrow, but I think I will stay home. I'm a very private mourner, which is why my online presence has been somewhat sparse; all of my conversation terse. Hooray, I have a new job, and bought some new clothes and I picked out some really nice colors because I really do have a sense of style even though I hide it behind a macho facade. "In the end, it doesn't even matter."