1600,  Saturday,  8  9. 18 texts

  :  i keep having dreams we get married. think we ever will? maybe they are fever dreams.

  :  Nicer yet  don’t you think  to have fever dreams come true?

  :  i do.

  :  Nice wording  don’t forget your line when the time comes

  :  haha. i could never.

i love you

  :  Baby  I love you, I love you very much

I love you long time (gotta let my freak flag fly – you know how I am)

  :  you’re something else.

  :  I’m your something else

Any requests?

  :  how about we leave that until tomorrow when we’re together?

  :  Okay  That gives me a day to warmup my repertoire

  :  don’t warm it up too much.

  :  Funny

I intend to scorch you 

a high horse

September 11 

I never refer to it as */**

17 years later

looks like a gravestone 

I feel badly for all the children who have been born since  and the children who were too young to understand how Bush & Company dismantled America  I feel badly for the generations who might never know the America and freedoms of my youth  how our ideals were shredded  how this New America was enabled by politicans of both stripes  unchecked by the Fourth Estate(made cheerleaders! unwilling to exercise their due diligence and thoroughly question and investigate -- perhaps fearful of being seen as unpatriotic – as if evidence or truth could be)  we knelt before their crusade we kowtowed to hubris  we were atomized by a phenomenally-successful terrorist attack which should have met its justice by a worldwide intelligence effort not by the slaughter of war  or rendition  or blacksites and torture  or Guantanamo not by the wholesale belligerence of deluded wannabe worldmakers

the atomisation continues because it is easier to kick the can down the road than to muster a revision and the courage to cease the farce of post-September 11

1141,  Twosday,  11  9. 18