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I'm back (dating)
Oct. 2nd, 2001 01:35 pmI can tell that this journal could well become one of those tasks that continues to grow the more I ignore it, until it is resting like a big guilt shoggoth in the back of my brain until I just decide finally to jack the whole journal thing in anyway. I don't want that to happen, so I'm going to restart entries from now (day zero) and try to fill in the gaps by back-dating stuff too. This may well seem a pathetically optimistic entry in retrospect. Still...
So. Noticed the date of my last post. Had the sudden horrible realisation that there may well be a journal or two here that will have stopped forever on September the 11th. For some reason, this idea is as upsetting a thought as I've had about the events of that day. I guess it reduces them to a human scale. I don't intend to say any more about it, not least because other people have already said it rather better. This week's Onion being a really rather powerful example. Reminds me why I started reading it. And Jeremy's take is bloody marvelous, I think. The problem with bringing the thing up at all it is makes anything you then go on to say seem utterly trivial by comparison. Conversations have been like that too, recently. Almost impossible, with the media saturation and the genuine fear that this could be the start of the end of the world, to avoid it coming up in any sufficiently long conversation, and after it does, discussing films or something doesn't really seem... appropriate, I suppose. You could claim that it's just getting on with life as normal, even cast it as an act of defiance, but I think the worst bit is that you know (well, I feel) that it isn't really. It's that what I'm doing, now, with me and mine, will almost always be more important to me than what is happening to Other People, Elsewhere. I can be shocked out of that, of course. I think we all were. But I don't think you (meaning me again, I guess) can cope with living like that for very long, feeling everything that happens to everyone, knowing they were just like me until... It would be like having no skin. I don't know whether I should feel weak for not feeling I can cope. Perhaps I should try to build up my strength, gradually exposing myself to more and more pain-by-proxy. Seems masochistic in the end. Is the world any better for me having read the Guardian's report on the plight of oppressed people X, for example? Even if I give money as a result (and that normally takes way more steps than I can string together, to be brutally honest)? Think not. I'll just carry on doing what I do, I guess. Maybe that's the most disturbing bit: the realisation that I probably won't be much changed by this, and probably don't even want to be.
Wonder if it's significant that I've skirted round actually saying what the 'events' I'm talking about are. Almost certainly... Don't want to make it any realler than it has to be for me. As predicted, I don't really feel like saying anything else now, and I certainly don't want to subject you, gentle reader, or myself to any more angst.
Peace. Out.
So. Noticed the date of my last post. Had the sudden horrible realisation that there may well be a journal or two here that will have stopped forever on September the 11th. For some reason, this idea is as upsetting a thought as I've had about the events of that day. I guess it reduces them to a human scale. I don't intend to say any more about it, not least because other people have already said it rather better. This week's Onion being a really rather powerful example. Reminds me why I started reading it. And Jeremy's take is bloody marvelous, I think. The problem with bringing the thing up at all it is makes anything you then go on to say seem utterly trivial by comparison. Conversations have been like that too, recently. Almost impossible, with the media saturation and the genuine fear that this could be the start of the end of the world, to avoid it coming up in any sufficiently long conversation, and after it does, discussing films or something doesn't really seem... appropriate, I suppose. You could claim that it's just getting on with life as normal, even cast it as an act of defiance, but I think the worst bit is that you know (well, I feel) that it isn't really. It's that what I'm doing, now, with me and mine, will almost always be more important to me than what is happening to Other People, Elsewhere. I can be shocked out of that, of course. I think we all were. But I don't think you (meaning me again, I guess) can cope with living like that for very long, feeling everything that happens to everyone, knowing they were just like me until... It would be like having no skin. I don't know whether I should feel weak for not feeling I can cope. Perhaps I should try to build up my strength, gradually exposing myself to more and more pain-by-proxy. Seems masochistic in the end. Is the world any better for me having read the Guardian's report on the plight of oppressed people X, for example? Even if I give money as a result (and that normally takes way more steps than I can string together, to be brutally honest)? Think not. I'll just carry on doing what I do, I guess. Maybe that's the most disturbing bit: the realisation that I probably won't be much changed by this, and probably don't even want to be.
Wonder if it's significant that I've skirted round actually saying what the 'events' I'm talking about are. Almost certainly... Don't want to make it any realler than it has to be for me. As predicted, I don't really feel like saying anything else now, and I certainly don't want to subject you, gentle reader, or myself to any more angst.
Peace. Out.
