TOO PRECISE, TIMED DID FELLOW AMERICAN'S LEND
FOR BLOODY TARGETS.
SUPPORT IN THIS CARNAGE,
If So WHY?
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by Joe. B. Yesterday, was surreal horror as video news feeds showed from various angles 3 commercial jets plowing into the Twin World Center Towers [T.W.C.] All day Tuesday there is a sicking pause, intake of breath, and unreality of this deadly action by person or persons unknown. Wednesday, Sept. 12, 2001 6:59 am. After hearing on radio, seeing on tv, or talking to fellow tenants, and people on the streets are stunned, dazed, comfused, at this murderess mass carage. Before going out and go about my business I realize I haven't gotten in touch with my relatives in New York. My mother and brother is in California but he was to take a plane to Chicago but now I'm thinking cruise ship, train, or Gray Hound Bus any thing by flying for now. I have people in the Bronx, Long Island, and in Manhattan. Blood has to be given, that's one concrete thing I can do besides writing this column. This strange experience is a numbing, icecold, flaming hot shock, anger, seething anger, and yet I must keep my head and not let imagination run rampant. Whether this was a deep cover mole, brainwashed sleeper triggered to awake, or home grown terrorists [American](s) helping foreign nationals kill their own countrymen/womem out some sick psychotic self hatred, or some other scenario - the truth will out. I'm drained, slowly hyperventelating it took some effort to slow down my breathing. Looking at people of different nationalities, faiths, all I see is more stunned, numb, walking wounded Americans going through the same "THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING, DIDN'T HAPPEN, I DID NOT SEE THAT - WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?" look on blank staring eyes. I still must go to City Hall and get the Section 8 application. At 7:25am. one of the policemen inside City Hall near the metal detectors told me 8am. for the public. I wait patiently with another person outside like human bookends. Finally we're in go through metal detector then find the place is still closed. I sit, wait and a man hands me the precious Section 8 document. The day is gray overcast slight winds, United Nations Plaza is quiet, one patrol car parked in front one of the entrances, vendors are few and customers fewer. I cannot concentrate on Market St. Mess now or maybe I can as my own way of coping. Hopefully most of you have ways to cope as well. For me writing, reading, walking, thinking quietly to myself or some form a meditation works for me. May all of you out there have an equally multi-ways outlet. For now, there are relatives to contact and rethinking of many things. Please donate what can to Joe at 255 9th St. For Joe only my snail CA 94102 |