I don’t remember anything of that day until a very specific moment in which I had for the first time in my life perhaps tapped into the Collective Consciousness (or better yet: the Zig-Zag Zeitgeist). I do not know how I got home so early in the day. I don’t recall even the faintest skeletal, often false kind of memories that people conjure even past the point of shedding the sacred, single-entry-ledger memory-bank protocol of childhood; the mundane, peaceful childhoods at least. They all create tall tales as a sort of opaque, fuzzy-logic rite of passage because it— gee, I don’t know— keeps a sense of continuity and perhaps shows someone to be intelligent or at least precocious at some point? As we all know, the great child prodigies and historical wunderkind of antiquity & (post-(ugh-(post-)))modernity alike all had perfect pitch, photographic memories and man, can those whizz-kids really just look at something like a bunch of adolescent Baby Einsteins and just like, make equations become rocket fuel for quantum spring rotators and crystallized projection matrices? That’s what this genius told me he did the other day. He had a pink Zippo Lighter and everyone kept lighting their cigarettes backward.
So 9/11 is a fugued-up memory right until after the first tower started to fall; this part too could be a false or harmless embellishment but what snapped me into awareness was watching my dad on the floor, with his hands stretched out and a groaning, fear-ish muddle to his voice: “Everything is going to crash…”
The rest of the day my friend Josh and I looked up at the sky a lot. We were eight. Video games seemed distasteful, or at least uninteresting, and so we connected to the best search engine of the time (Yahoo!) and looked for morbid imagery in a much more distasteful way than playing Pokémon Silver would have been. All we saw was wreckage, fire fighters and their endless ladders into the asbestos haze. There wasn’t much blood, nor were there too many bodies littered around everywhere in some Boschian tableaux of pure death and Terror.
I remember my dad said something about the economy tanking and his stocks going to zero. In a lot of ways 3/12/2020 was my 9/11 in this regard; stocks tanked enormously, which triggered a truly staggering amount of Bitcoin & other crypto-coin leveraged positions, creating an Actual Death Spiral scenario had the Idiot Kings of Bitmex and other such high risk:insulting reward bucket shops of mostly forgotten lore by now.
What a day that was. I had known about COVID since late Nov of 2019 and was a prepper early on; by April pretty much everything had calmed down enough that I knew I probably wouldn’t have to worry about anything but insanity. The 9/11 Generation got some closure; the COVID generation still thinks Mr. Fauci is the spiritual uncle in the “Tim Walz is the dad I wish I had before Fox News took him from me.”
Insulting, clown-comic crooks and chomos. I very much support Donald Trump and JD Vance because at least they aren’t laughing at their supporters and seemingly wish to use the American populace as exit liquidity while they go to Antarctica or some stupid junk like that, because Bill Gates conned all of them – every single one.
I wonder what Kamala Harris was doing on 9/11?
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