Monday, May 2, 2011

Osama, Retribution & John Lennon

I've been reading through all of the posts on Twitter, but that doesn't seem like the right place for my feelings. Do I want to rejoice? No. Do I want to scream out the window? No. Thomas Beller, who was Open City's editor before it closed, wrote this:
No cheering mobs, or anyone, on Manhattan's Upper West. Went to Strawberry fields for some reason, stood on 'Imagine.' Peered at tulips.
I think, yes. That's it. I feel melancholy. Sadness. Despair for the family members and friends of those who perished on 9/11. There's a placid depression, really. An unfolding of all that old stuff I felt around that time. About remembering those smoke clouds. About my bus driver high tailing it, racing away from the Lincoln Tunnel. Those feelings and more... of loss, really, just comes back up. Maybe this is called post traumatic stress? I don't know. Maybe that's why Beller felt it right to stand on 'Imagine' -- because there's always hope, even in such great sadness.

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