Banter? I just met her...
I am back and glad to be here.
The flights were so long, my patience was so short
but now I am back with the people and person who make me the happiest.
I wore my kilt to work today too.
Hey all. I'm out on Saturday and I can't wait to see all of you.
I saw a guy walking two cats today on a leash. Fucking kilty Scots.
Stay golden Ponyboy.
I'm in Edinburgh, Scotland and it is purdy and friggin' old. The newer buildings and shit are like from 1700. It really makes me realize how young America is. I spent the last 4 days in the "Lake Country" in Northern England and yesterday mom, dad, Jay and I drove to Edinburgh. Dad almost killed us thrice while driving on the wrong/ right side of the road. The weather has been beautiful yet I so miss my beloved San Francisco. I am pretty friggin' stewed because my bro's company has blocked hotmail from their intranet so I can't check e-mails. I will be on for about an hour so if ya'll are there I guess we must communicate through comments. How's ya'll?
I miss the Queen so much it hurts. Jesus, I've already sent her 3 letters and spent like 400£ on her...well 300.
Relaxin' in the dirty south, one more leg to Haggisland!
He didn't leave...
Things I will miss in Scotland:
Things I won't miss:
Things I want to avoid in Scotland:
If someone tells you "You're talking out your ass" you should tell them to give you a kiss on the cheek.
I'm dating this insanely gorgeous girl. I like her because, well, she's hotter than cayenne pepper, but really because she's royalty. It's fun being with royalty.
He could feel it running through his veins. He was dying. Why were they all watching him. Where was he. Who was he. Could he die. His extremities began to turn blue yet his smile became wider. Blissful.
He was changing. Physically changing. But why. He did not know.
What was he. Who had he become. What had he become.
Where is the chili. Bring me chili.
Yeah...that's right. Uh-huh.
She's a hellcat.
I'm talkin' bout l'amour, what the hell you talkin' about?
Here is a beautiful essay from a dear family friend and local New Yorker on his experience in Manhattan today. Thank you for the heartfelt personal account George.
Report From 31st Street
September 11, 2002
For some years, I have supported the work of the good Friars of St. Francis Church who hand out sandwiches and coffee every morning to the poor in midtown Manhattan. It seemed that this would be a fitting place to spend a few moments this morning because this group of Franciscans included the now famous and beloved Father Mychal Judge who was chaplain to the firemen and perished a year ago today.
There was a huge American flag extending across 31st Street. The eeriness of the day was heightened by the clear blue September sky and perfect temperature, exactly the same weather as in 2001. What I hadn’t remembered was that Hook and Ladder Company 24 is across the street from St. Francis Church; a large crowd was assembling near a bronze sculpture of Father Mychal and another new sculpture "The Hand of a Hero" depicting a fireman at rescue.
After a few minutes in the church, I stood with this large and incredibly silent crowd gathered now before Ladder 24, where the trucks had been pulled out on the street. About 40 fireman lined up at silent attention and the names of all of the 343 deceased firemen were read. A few women supported each other and stood in the fire hall -- the spouses of the six firemen from Ladder 24 who died that sad day.
Accidentally, I was positioned next to a 5,000 pound bell and just after 8:46 AM, a fireman from Wilmington Delaware invited us to line up and begin the long process of ringing this bill 2,800 times for each of the people who died in the World Trade Center. I rang the bell three times at 10 second intervals. The fireman said this would take about 7 hours to complete. He handed me back my briefcase and another person took over.
I walked closer to the fire station to listen to the reading of the remaining names which took nearly an hour. I looked at the assembled firemen—assorted shapes and sizes. Several of the faces were somehow familiar. It struck me that I had seen these same men in depth last night on ABC TV where they formed the basis of a special report about 9/11, in particular the rescue of several trapped firemen which were sadly some of the very few rescues to occur. These unlikely men were now celebrities of a sort.
Except for 5 or 6, the firemen were in Class A dress uniforms. It struck me that the men in work clothes were covering in case of a call. In fact the remainder of the day in New York was punctuated with frequent sirens-- as duties take place in spite of memorial services.
I wandered up to the office, passing many American flags and Saks Fifth Avenue where all of the elegant window dressings were removed. Each window had a plain white screen and the words "In Remembrance" were embossed on the glass. The two end windows on 50th and 51st Streets each had a vertical American flag with a bouquet of flowers in front. I made a brief stop at St. Patrick’s. It was unusually crowded.
At 10 o’clock I bought a danish from Johnny, the same street vendor on Park Avenue that I visit every day. He reminded me of our conversation last September 11 when I was the first person to tell him at about 8:55 AM that a plane had run into the World Trade Center. I had heard this news on my headset just moments before. On September 13, 2001, Johnny told me that his cousin was also a street vendor downtown and was "missing."
At this point, I went up to the office where fortunately the normal issues and problems took control of the day.
...the Bay Area."
"Oh, the coast."
"Well honey, your smile just made my day."
Mine too. Heavy heart.
I'm not wearing underwear or a shirt.
Stop looking at me.
Acoustic guitars can sing you to sleep.
Just because you have a microphone doesn't mean your voice is louder than mine.
The Burning man burns and the parking spaces disappear...again.
Being "cheesy" has nothing to do with real cheese.