All I really want to say about the anniversary is that this will never be about our fallen eichmann comrades or even the valiant first responders to me. Nineteen years ago I was in the Atlanta horror suburbs and my own life was coming down around my ears. This day will always be a day of karma as long as I breathe. Also, if you want to hear the smartest and least whackjob conspiracy theorists ever on the subject, please get thyself hence to the the TrueAnon podcast, and that will be that.

***

Put it all behind you and look forward in to the unknown with its fear and eve apples bending a bough so low at six thousand feet in the place of your heart.

***

I have no job and so long as the enhanced unemployment gravy continues to trickle out fitfully I can’t even bring myself to imagine one. I’m deep in debt because of the necessity of trying to keep jobs I didn’t much care for, and I’m saddled with a mortgage in a place I don’t want to be any more.

What I do have is a very tentative liberty.

What I do have, beyond this vague blooming sense of possibility, is a mostly ripened pension plan.

I said that there is a way, to take hold of the fruit trees and the lanai office and the open space trails and the view that goes on forever in the mountain town of my heart.

That way is to liquidate the pension and to give up all hope of being a marginal safe pensioner forever; to trade a cramped security for an unkempt grove of peaches and quince in heaven, with no clue how any utility bill two years from now will ever be paid, two years and until the end of time too.

This is me facing this massive existential question as best I can.

Waking from decadent slumber.

Turning away from the terrible awesomeness of the question at ten in the morning and hitting the Publish button prematurely so that I can get on with listening to myself for a time. Maybe I’ll be back and adding here after. Maybe I just need to square the sails and tell you more tomorrow.