Exactly as the title suggests!
Well…my internet connection will restored next week, just in time for me to be vacationing in Florida. I can’t bitch too much more about it, tho…cause I’m sure the Universe has “reasons” for this almost two month (two month!) delay in my regular home internet service.
So once again, I will be composing this missive using 5G (mmmm, 5G…) upon teeny-tiny digital keys. (Update as I write: the new router literally was just delivered. But I’m going to still wallow in my self-pity for a while longer like a tortured “first world problems” snowflake)
Let’s catch up with a bit more current events, shall we? We’ll start with the helicopter that crashed into a skyscraper (!) in Midtown Manhattan. Now…my novel Conspiracy! (the link to download is somewhere on this site, sorry for me being such a lazy fuck at the moment) also features, as its (anti-)climatic event, a plane crashing into Midtown (with the attendant mass hysteria, trucks, reporters, and so on).
The key to both the real-life and fictional event is TRAUMA.
Almost 20 years since 9/11, and I still carry that trauma in my body and my mind. Almost 20 years, and a good chunk of the U.S. still carries that trauma. Are we all just a bunch of pussies? Or, as my iPhone’s spell-correct helpfully suggested, are we all just a bunch of “puddles?”
My husband bought me a six-pack of fancy beer with Ralph Steadman illustrations all over them. He doesn’t read my posts on a regular basis, and I don’t really get super involved with his social media. This is because my posts are my bailiwick, and his social media presence is his. But I think I’ve just been resonating Hunter Thompson vibes the last few days, and this is his way to express he’s picked this up.
He’s quite good at picking up these vibes. About a third into our relationship, he told me I reminded him of the British comedian David Mitchell. How unfair and erroneous! How hurtful and unintuitive!
Anyway: what I’m trying to say is…a helicopter crashed into a skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan. And the “echoes” were there. Am I being a pussy? Maybe.
I feel like…I should just publish this post now, and if I’m inclined to post more later today, that’ll be a “b” or even “c” post.