Mourning the morning.

Emotion. I wake up in the early dawn to feel, not to breathe. With every hopeful inhalation there is a painful exhalation of disappointment. That is the tragedy of life in the era of extremism and ethernet cables. Humanity has become the nationwide network for the virus of violent faith, and your soul is the corrupted hard drive.

Is nothing sacred anymore in the sea of radiation we call modern civilization? The invisible trenches of exchanging text messages, cellular phone calls, and web-browsing on demand? They exist solely to conquer you and eradicate healthy cells left in your body. I should know. My name is Jennette, and I'm an addict of the American kind.

Don't believe the daytime talk shows. Even your own life processes, your very biology, is against you.

Those aren't my words. I'm not the one you should hate. Hate the search engines that tell you every small ache in your lower calf is a death sentence from the gods of disconnection. Their own personal Christ is that fake doctor that's feeding teens and alienated youngsters lies. Illness is their salvation. Fucked up logic? Yes. But we're all fucked up and high on depression. Go right ahead. Read the Book Of St. Internet To The Misguided Legions. This time it's you and me on the cross dying for everyone else's sins.


I'm crying like everyone else this morning. Sad that we've learned so much, understand so little, gone so far, and come back right to the very point at which we started. Kiss me, Lady Liberty. Embrace me with the tender warmth of genuine freedom. Ravish my body like the closet French woman you are. I want to be the great American lesbian that shows false liberals and whacked out conservative prophets that taking yourself seriously is the first step to failure. No, it's not humiliating to be so frank. Shock value should be added to the Constitution. Desensitization solves problems. At least I'm not lying when someone asks me if I ever wondered what's up that green skirt.


As a New Yorker, I can't help but feel proud. We are unified on this one horrible day, standing hand in hand as we relive moments that spawned countless lifetimes of fear. Remember the dead. Keep them in your prayers. Hold onto the memory of the horror for dear life, for the sanity to understand that the fallacies around us should be fixed in honor of the unfortunate persons who died 9 years ago today.

But most of all...live. It's all we'll ever have. Life is the heaven and hell between heaven and hell.

I swear I'm not an existentialist, Lord. Amen.


Mom's calling for breakfast. Ciao.

Jen.