Hello, Cyberia. I am back.

While I was away and had to use my sister's computer a couple of times, I noticed that my site does not look as it was intended for the masses if you don't have the font called 'Typist' installed on your machine. Kindly go and do so if you are a 'reggler' out here and a little piece of your world will be right and good. Thank you.

Also, I have no idea what is up with my comments system. I will try to republish and see if that helps; if it doesn't, then I will prolly just remove it until I am confident/motivated enough to try and formulate one of my own or until someone rains their absolute coding genius and mercy down on me and does it for me as a sweet gesture.

And on to the meat of the matter. I have debated on whether or not to even write about this massive occurrence in our lives, as it has such an intensely personal and raw feel to me, to us (America, yo). Part of me says to just circle the wagons and keep my two cents' bits' worth to myself, part of me wonders what I have to bring to the table that has not become so much pablum at this point, that has not been stated over and over to the extent of becoming rote. This is part of the reason that I have read no other weblogs today, nor did I yesterday or last night.

The way I first envisioned this entry was as follows:

FIRST RANDOM THOUGHTS, CIRCA 9 AY EMM TO TEN AY EMM CST, 11 SEPT 01:
// In No Particular Order, as I can't remember the order in which they occurred to me \\
"It's not them. The people that are claiming credit did not do this thing."
"I need to go fill my tank soon." (and I did, in case you want to know)
"Was so-and-so at work today? Are they okay?"
"Inside job."
"The people on those planes....oh God, how horrible their last moments must have been...."
"My brother, where is he at? What has he been doing?"
"Do my parents know yet? If they don't, how in God's name will I find them, driving around in the middle of nowhere?" (they are on vacation, and the cell phone hasn't been completely reliable these last two weeks)
"Why isn't anybody mentioning the IMF talks in D.C. at the end of this month? Surely this thing is related; they hit the World Trade Center buildings, for Chrissakes!"
"All the sophisticated equipment available and we don't know where the other two planes in question are?"
"Someone in Our Government had wind of this and they let it happen. There had to be an inkling of this somewhere; this thing was too fucking big."
"Airport security, my ass."
"This will be the thing that convinces the bulk of the American public to give the remainder of their civil liberties away without batting an eye because sanctions will come under the guise of our own security."

And so, and so, and so.....
I was lying in bed, in the midst of a lazy wake-up, when Fox broke the story into my life. I started to get up and snag a bowl of Life cereal before my brain really wrapped around the words on my screen. Horrified, I rushed into the family room where the big TV rests and I sat two feet in front of it for nearly two hours before I moved away from it. In the meantime I was trying to get a line out, trying one long distance carrier after another until it sunk that "Hey, some of the lines have been seized by the government, I'm sure, and the rest are overburdened." Thankfully, my mobile was working and I was able to get in touch with several friends and family. I put out the feelers on my brother, whose job I don't know enough about to elaborate on. I don't know much because I am not allowed to, as none of my family is. In truth, I don't even feel comfortable mentioning that much out here. I shouldn't tell you that my parents' phone has been tapped for over 36 months now, in anticipation of what, I don't know and neither do they. I also shouldn't tell you that my brother has a job that entails being called away at any given time, never with prior knowledge of his destination nor the length of time he will be away. His wife and I have never been great friends, but she has my immense respect for the way she hangs in there and acts as the linchpin for her family. There are other minute details that I have knowledge of that only make the scope of the whole puzzle larger and scarier without really seating any pieces. Those things I absolutely cannot mention. But perhaps the little I have told you will enlighten you as to why I had to put out feelers to find him.

At this point all I know is that he has been gone since 2 a.m. last Sunday. Sometimes when we put out word that we need to speak with him he calls within 6 or 7 hours. Sometimes it takes days. I have a feeling that this time will be several days. I don't know why I am bothering; he won't be able to tell me anything anyway. I guess I just need to know that he is not in pieces somewhere. That will have to be enough, because I know he is most likely doing something that has him in harm's way. Why else would he still be officially listed as a jet mechanic on military paper, but never have to groom himself in military fashion and rarely get into a uniform by order of his superiors? And here again, I am saying too much.....

I talked to several relatives and heard a few things just prior to them hitting the airwaves, but that was all, really. Having been raised military, having been married to a man who had a rather high-level security clearance himself, I know that there are distinct boundaries to what comes up from the gut and passes through the lips. These boundaries are always in place, whether or not there are specific orders that command silence.

I sat affixed and perplexed, with a sick feeling reverberating through me. Finally I tore myself away from the incoming calls and the incoming images and I left the house to do what any good American does in a time of national crisis. I shopped.

I am sitting here telling you that I unashamedly went to Wal-Mart to distract myself in a petty way by purchasing trifles and doo-hickeys and stuff. I bought something for everyone. Mathias got Batman Underoos and a fresh box of Teddy Grahams, I bought Sam new boxer briefs and a pack of wifebeaters as well as a very loud-cool-funktified Spiderman shirt, Scout got headbands and a needlework kit, Maxim got boxers with huge multi-colored strats all over them and I got some materials that I'd been needing for a collage and a yummy cinnamon roll-scented candle in a huge ivory crock. When Bonzai called later to check up on me, she asked where I had been and why I hadn't carried my phone with. I told her where and why; her response was to say, "Figgers. Figgers that YOU would be the one nutjob I know to be out buying underwear while all this goes on."

"I was exercising my rights as a consumer," I replied. "I was making a show of normalcy."

"Good Christ, Beth.....you would NOT just normally wander out and flex your purchasing power on a pair of boxers with guitars emblazoned all over them." Alas, she's right. I would normally save a quarter at a time until I had the money to buy them and then save them for my spouse's Christmas stocking. Yesterday I was damning the fucking torpedoes.

A stop at the bread store yielded an interesting scene which culminated in my taking a stand and blessing out the store clerk and all but one of the patrons for their obvious political and cultural ignorances. The one I didn't place in my sights was a young man my age or a couple years younger who stood shaking his head sadly as the clerk made such informed comments as, "Nunnathis woulda ever happened if weeda got ridda that ole Sad-DAMN back in tha 80's like we shoulda." and other patrons made such astute observations as, "I tell you whut the probbem is....we been lettin' too many dang ferners across the borders."

After standing in line for a couple-three minutes of thissing and thatting by the other shoppers, I was chewing on the inside of my cheek so hard that I should have drawn blood. Being who I am, I could stand to be silent no longer and I was myself all over these people. The words emerged -roiled- out of me and they gained clarity and steam as they grew in number. Mathias, always spoiling for some action, shook his little toddler fists the entire time, and cheered me on with several well-placed and hearty "YEEEEAAH"s and a few little backup "yeah-yeah-YES"ses. I snapped my jaw shut so hard after the last sentence emerged that my front teeth rattled and I swear I felt them give a bit. I then burst into tears...hot, angry, frustrated and frightened tears. As I left I took note of the fact that they looked collectively as if they had just seen a train plow through their favorite aunt and then fly her panties in a celebratory fashion from the caboose. *sigh* I now wonder what they thought in the wake that is me.

Home, putting purchases meticulously away, feeding Mathias, not being able to eat, catching calls in a hopeful fashion, putting Mathias down for a nap, staying glued to the coverage are the things that occupied my afternoon. I am so, SO troubled, and not by the things that we are being told. What concerns me, makes me angry and frightened in turns is what we are in fact NOT being told. I have questions, boys and girls, lots and lots of questions that are carefully gnawing on my insides. They include, but are in no way limited to:

-If intelligence sources had no clue that something like this was to happen, then why in the fuck was a worldwide travel alert issued for Americans on FRIDAY? This was not merely an international alert, as such alerts generally are, but a worldwide one, which implies that our country was included.
-How could something this planning-intensive and of this magnitude have escaped the attention (if even on the periphery) of our intelligence sources, which are purported to be some of the finest (if not the finest) in the world?
-Why is none of the media exploring the more-than-possible link of this attack to the IMF talks scheduled in Washington D.C. at the end of this month? Does anyone here remember the Bay of Pigs (kindly raise your motherfucking hand, Smiley)? Remember how it distracted from the buildup in Viet Nam, how it kept the rapt attention of this country's citizenry as a custom-made shitheap was forming a few degrees in the other direction? This whole attack, everything about it smells like that kind of scenario to me.
-With all of the so-called security measures in place in airports all over the country, how did several planes get snatched almost simultaneously? HOW?
-Why in God's name did the media report --and why were they ALLOWED to?-- the fact that Bush's political advisors and military advisors were arguing over where they should land the President and whether or not his safety or saving face was paramount? To my way of thinking, this was exposing a weakness, showing the world a living room quarrel between Mom and Dad that it had no business seeing. Twenty or thirty years ago it would not have been mentioned. It would have simply been stated thusly: "Mr. President is in constant contact with his cabinet and advisors and is busy making some ballbusting decisions and generally being presidential. He'll make periodic statements throughout the day. At this point, as long as we are hearing from him, it is nofuckingbody's business where in holy hell he physically is." And that's the way it should have been yesterday, fellow campers.
-Where was the inside involvement? There had to be some. There had to be.
-Why have we not been more thorough in the past, in the cases of the first NY bombing and the Oklahoma city bombing? Why was there a figurehead chosen and martyred in each instance, rather than rooting out all the collaborators and gutting them before stringing them up in public by their nutsacks to bleed out slowly and painfully on the world stage as a message to future fucknut zealots with a fanatic bone to pick with us? You don't kill an organism by knicking its' skin. You decimate it and burn the pieces to make sure it ain't a-gonna twitch no more. That in mind, knowing that all guilty parties weren't sought out and convicted in the past --and I mean ALL guilty parties-- didn't we just ask for this to happen? Are we awake now?
-Will we hold on to our dignity and decency and not see a rise in hate crimes against people that appear to be of middle eastern descent? Will they be persecuted or squirrelled away as those of asian appearance were after Pearl Harbor? Have we grown enough to not shame ourselves in this manner?
-Will people be passive and allow more little freedoms to be usurped so that they feel a little more secure within our borders? Are we to become a complete police state, as someone is and has been undoubtedly planning for us?
-Did anyone else's bowels drop (as mine did this morning) upon hearing that we have Israel's full support and alliance? Great Britain is a given; they are a comforting presence, but hearing that Israel will be our bedmates sorta fucked my week up further.
(and last but not least)
-Why the fuck have I not heard anyone else asking these questions that I have? Are we ALL such sheep? Or perhaps I think too fast??

And another thing--are we so arrogant? I heard SEVERAL reporters characterize the attacks yesterday as one of the worst happenings in the history of the world. This puts me agog. Things like this happen with a regularity in other places abroad and we motor on, fairly oblivious. But NOW, now that it has landed in OUR laps it's one of the worst happenings in the history of he world. Why does it carry more weight given that it's happened on our shores?

Yeah, I realize that we are the bastion of the free world, we are the people and the place that set so much of the world's climate and I am not downplaying our greatness. I am one patriotic motherfucker, believe you me, but.....*impotent frustration*.....what direction does this point us in? More importantly, where is the world community headed?

pee ess....
OBLIGATORY KNEE-JERK REACTION: When we find the fuckers that did this, as I know we will, I hope we bomb them off of the face of the fucking planet, leaving only a smoking crater and the echo of their whimpering and pleas for our mercy. Don't fuck with THE mother country, fellas. Just don't.
Jett Superior laid this on you 8:35:32 PM || c'mon, you know you want to

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9.7.2001

Pee ess....thanks for all the archive surfing. *sob* You make me feel so....NEEDED.
Jett Superior laid this on you 4:42:27 PM || c'mon, you know you want to

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Okay, the first four or five days sans computer were gwooby; I got lots and lots done.

Now it sucks, because I can't find where I put the typewriter and I never have enough uninterrupted minutes to go longhand with my writing expeditions (even though it is my favorite method...). I feel like I am strangling and my 'computer guy' may soon have the same sensation if I don't get my fucking computer back right quick.

I'll be around in the ether infrequently until then....
Jett Superior laid this on you 4:41:28 PM || c'mon, you know you want to

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8.29.2001

I saw an entry to someone's journal today that reminded me of this poem that I wrote a couple of years ago: This Boy
This boy's hands shake
-Only slightly, so that I would notice-
And I fear for him.

I fear for him because
He has an intellectual mind
And a good soul.

The world says it admires
These qualities, but it devours
Those who posess them.

Perhaps the world feels
That by consumption of those
It will in turn become the same;

Perhaps the world fears those
And by consumption of them
It will alleviate that fear.

I am unsure, but this boy's
Hands shake-only slightly-
And I fear for him.

In other news, my computer is kinda ass-up right now. I don't know when I'll be back. Cross your fingers, cross your legs, cross your eyes, wiggle your nose and PRAY. Thank you.
Jett Superior laid this on you 7:50:42 PM || c'mon, you know you want to

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8.28.2001

I am presently sitting in front of my computer, mightily tempted to put my head through the monitor. Of course you wanna know why, so I'm about to tell you: I've spent the last half-hour typing up bad reaaally bad atrociously rotten poetry for a few greenbacks.

The woman that I agreed to type them for is a bad reaaally bad artist, so I don't know why I expected her poetry to be any better. The shit of it is that she is a retired teacher. What was it she taught? English. "Those who can't,...."

Two guesses as to what she wants to do with the poems after they're typed, and if you guessed that she's gonna roll around in honey and then stick my neatly typeset pages to her naked flesh, well, uh, you were just wrong. You were more than wrong. You were WRONG (you know, like in that making-the-gesture-for-crazy-next-to-your-temple sense).

Anyway, she is going to have them litho'd OVER her really bad paintings *ACK*, so I've typeset them in a font called 'CAC Leslie'. That font reminds me of the ones you see on those crappy, sentimental greeting cards that make me want to claw my eyeballs out. The ones with bad art. And bad poetry.

She adores this font, by the way, and told me that I have such a wonderful sense of her work, of her. I wanted to wail like a baby in need of a teat.

I think the worst part of this job is not even the icky words. I could ignore them if I simply had to type, but that's not the case. She has them laid out all funky, so I am forced to pay attention to what's written. She thinks that if her words have a funky layout, then they will come across as more 'artistic'. They don't. They come across as bad reaaally bad atrociously rotten poetry laid out badly reaaally badly.

I shouldn't have worked on this first thing in the morning. It's too early for this shit.
Jett Superior laid this on you 9:23:42 AM || c'mon, you know you want to

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I love the fuck out of this layout. Were Patrick my boyfriend, I would trade sexual favors for a little design lovin'. Does that make me a whore, or the standard in a give-and-take relationship??
Jett Superior laid this on you 12:49:31 AM || c'mon, you know you want to

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8.27.2001

ON CLEANLINESS AND CRUSHER, AIM convo from earlier today:

Unxmaal: moo
JettSuperior: oink
JettSuperior: wheet!
Unxmaal: howsya?
JettSuperior: clean
JettSuperior: and you?
Unxmaal: i'm ok =]
JettSuperior: are you clean as well?
JettSuperior: LOL
Unxmaal: yes!
Unxmaal: omg
Unxmaal: beth
JettSuperior: omg
Unxmaal: by honor of motherhood
JettSuperior: whut
JettSuperior: sha???
JettSuperior: whaaa???
Unxmaal: you are blessed with great knowledge in house-cleaning skillz
Unxmaal: so
JettSuperior: shit.
Unxmaal: how the hell do i clean a shower curtain?
Unxmaal: i can't throw it away; i luvs it
Unxmaal: but it's got ... mung... on it
JettSuperior: I clean up one room and they trash another....but what kind of curtain?
Unxmaal: it's this horrid tacky one with a hawaiian island scene
Unxmaal: i'm doing my bathroom in hawaiian tiki
JettSuperior: oooh, you need some mark ryden tiki art in that mutha.
JettSuperior: what kind of material is it made of?
Unxmaal: plastic
Unxmaal: thicker vinyl
Unxmaal: i was thinkin i could just unhook it and throw it in the washer
JettSuperior: Yeah, little detergent, about a half-cup of bleach should do it.
Unxmaal: ok cool
Unxmaal: see!
Unxmaal: you rock
JettSuperior: put it in the shortest gentle cycle, tho,
JettSuperior: 'cos you don't want it to wrinkle or tear.
Unxmaal: yea
Unxmaal: omg wil wheaton
Unxmaal: talked to me on aim!
Unxmaal: eee!!
JettSuperior: when?
Unxmaal: but ..... he linked me wrong
JettSuperior: tell him...and I wrote him an e-mail pimping you.
JettSuperior: but he no respond, the basssid.
Unxmaal: you did?
Unxmaal: haha he talked to me for a few hours
JettSuperior: well, name-drop me. tell him I'm astounding.
JettSuperior: tell him to worship me as you do.
JettSuperior: tell him I can give him cleaning hints.
JettSuperior: *snort*
Unxmaal: yea!!
JettSuperior: so, what kinda crap did you talk about?
Unxmaal: geeky stuff
JettSuperior: not boobies?
Unxmaal: see this?
Unxmaal: http://www.wilwheaton.net/greymatter/archives/000 00024.htm
JettSuperior: here i goes.
Unxmaal: see the 'cool guy' link? it goes to anil dash.. not me :-(
JettSuperior: how do you know that it's you?
JettSuperior:'cos the #?
Unxmaal: my /. # is 231
Unxmaal: we were some of the first /. nerds
JettSuperior: okee dokee
JettSuperior: mail him and tell him.
Unxmaal: i will later =]
JettSuperior: i'll be pissed if he responds.
JettSuperior: 'cos I'm cuter than you and just as clever.
JettSuperior: BWA---hahahaha!
Unxmaal: hmf
Unxmaal: just cos u got boobies.
Unxmaal: :-(
JettSuperior: hmf?
Unxmaal: humph
JettSuperior: hurt
Unxmaal: hmf =]
JettSuperior: my phe4lings
Unxmaal: awww
Unxmaal: /pats/
JettSuperior: that what that means?
JettSuperior: hmf?
Unxmaal: hmf = humph
JettSuperior: okee.
JettSuperior: okee.
JettSuperior: smokee.
Unxmaal: it's not an acronym =]
JettSuperior: I still maintain that I am clever, anyway.
Unxmaal: i didn't dispute that :-)
JettSuperior: mmkay.
JettSuperior: http://www.angelfire.com/wy/Wesley/
JettSuperior: AHHH-hahaha!!
Jett Superior laid this on you 3:29:14 PM || c'mon, you know you want to

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7th Heaven rocks! We like to play "figure out the lesson before they start beating you over the head with it".

"They're all jerks!" "No...they're all insane!" "Awww...no, they just all needed to have their faith in the mailman restored..."

But I gotta ask: Are they intentionally turning Matt into Keith Partridge, or did it just sort of happen?

On an unrelated note, the check is in the mail. No, I lied. But that's just 'cause I can't find a shipping tube long enough to get the Spongebob Squarepants kite into. And I don't want to break it.

And that's the truth.
Chum Commensurate laid this on you 1:42:10 PM || c'mon, you know you want to

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Worth a glimpse just for the tagline at the end of entries: "My brain crawled out my ear at [insert time here, baby]"

Not ALL GeoCities sites are a steaming pile of dung, y'all. I implore you to put aside your prejudices and technology snobbery.

That, or fork over the dough-re-mi for a domain and hosting for me. Goodnight, Gracie!
Jett Superior laid this on you 3:32:32 AM || c'mon, you know you want to

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HEY! Cool....I'm not as big a loser out here in Cyberia as I thought I was.

Out of 10,000-some-odd sites and 28,000-some-odd links, I am numero 2,297 on the list (presently, anyway).

And quite by accident I found a friend that I didn't know I had. *crosses eyes, sticks out tongue and waves at Deb ovah heeyah*
Jett Superior laid this on you 3:21:39 AM || c'mon, you know you want to

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Because we all know that pr0n should be a part of every aspect of your life.

Funny in a junior high kinda way, but I think someone's got a leeeeeeedle too much time on their hands.
Jett Superior laid this on you 3:16:04 AM || c'mon, you know you want to

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"But while Sid is dead, and Daniel Ash and David J. are playing reunion tours to kids half their age, Jaime's aging punks are more interesting at 40 than they were at 20.

"Most of us are."

[thanks to John for the link...]
Jett Superior laid this on you 2:09:54 AM || c'mon, you know you want to

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Been eagerly following the unfolding of the 2001 Pony League World Series, 'cause my nephew's team was playing in it.

Strange watching him from afar like this, because I haven't seen him in person for a little over four years now. Even stranger still is seeing pictures of him via internet. Even though he is still on the slim side, he no longer has the look of a boy. He has the look of someone on the cusp of adulthood, a man-in-the-making. I could no longer scoop him up into my arms, all skinny-gangly limbs and caved-in chest that is characteristic of boys between six and ten, and throw him into the pool. He has lost that soft look to his face; his features are becoming more chiselled --more defined-- and are more manly than the little boy with the sweet eyes and chubby cheeks that I remember. Heh...'mannish boy'...but that's inappropriate, I digress.

Alas, the Chesterfield boys came in second, losing 10-4 to Puerto Rico. Can't begrudge the champs, who had lost their very first game and then worked like hell to make it into the final game.

My mom, the optimist that she is, had this to say: "Welp, it's his last year in Pony...he moves on up into the stockyard next year. Fun's over." Good Christ Almighty, ma. I can't wait until Sam and Mathias are the subject of similar remarks.
Jett Superior laid this on you 12:53:06 AM || c'mon, you know you want to

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