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Sep
10

9-1-1-01

the mark of the beast. It was on that dark and terrifying day that I beheld from my bed of depression nyc burning and a man jumping upside down from a building because he had chosen death over hope of rescue. On the ground I saw firemen looking up at a behomouth that they could not contain. I saw not the obvious horror being talked about on screen, but new yorkers themselves come alive with sharing and with helping and with risking and joining and with determination and concern for a higher good with no thought of race or position. People in suits were applauding the firemen, and others of those who do all the real work that keeps things standing and living and moving. Blue collar people were being honored, workers thanked. For that brief moment, no one was putting bullshit ahead of what’s real. I saw my dream of america come alive on television. i saw the good there before it was used against we “viewers”. I vowed to fight my own depression and instead take action for the world I wanted to help manifest. I decided to do it with no psychiatric medicines, but only with prayer alone (meditation).
I decided that making money would not matter to me as much as seeing people really laugh away fear.
Laughter is the last and best weapon against hypocrites. the laughter of old women is the thing all patriarchy (endless war) fears most. LOL.
i saw people helping people, and I was so proud of americans on that blackest and yet most telling day.