Holy Fucking Shit

That was, with the addition of the last two words "America Attacked" the title of the special edition of the Onion on the 9/11 attacks. Well, here we go again.

The subways are on high alert due to some specific intelligence that they will be attacked by Al Queda. NYPD detectives are now in Iraq looking for clues.

I don't want to go to work tomorrow. I went to work on 9/11 and look what happened. This is magical thinking for sure, but I still remember looking up and asking myself where that hole came from. I still cannot wear a red tie after seeing all those suited businessmen with their ties streaming in the wind as they fell from above. It's been a terrible four years of bad breathing, weight gain, depression and anger. I cannot go through this again.

On the brighter side I cleaned up my old Moviola upright and ran some film through it. Clara wants me to take it home, but that would certainly cause some strain on the marriage to have a huge film editing maching sitting around. Be better off if I collected cellos. But then, I love Moviolas. They are hard on film, but when you edit with one it is a complete physical exercise. When I first learned to edit it was a frustrating experience, but after a decade plus editing on Avids I miss the feel of film passing through my fingers. I still have a scar on my right hand from an out of control rewind. And that trick of winding up trims on the side plate so they would be nice and tight and compact so you could put them in the white boxes and store them away. The actual three dimensional quality of the emulsion making up an image fixed on a stream of flowing plastic. Bits and bytes aren't the same. Maybe more practical, but not the same.