Wednesday, September 11, 2002

And my conclusion is...
After re-reading "The Long Fall of One-Eleven Heavy" a year later, I stand by my previous conviction that it is the best piece of journalism I have ever read, for more reasons than that it made me cry (which it did again, although not the loud, choking variety). It is tirelessly reported, beautifully written and, in my estimation, worth the honor just for these two sentences:

“All of these people, it was as if they were all turning to gold, all marked with an invisible X on their foreheads, as of course we are, too, the place and time yet to be determined. Yes, we are burning down; time is disintegrating.”

In addition, upon re-reading my thoughts about the story (which I soon discovered were written on Oct. 3 instead of Sept. 11 as I had previously thought), I found that I had pretty much written the exact same thing in my post yesterday. So it appears that I have plagiarized myself, to the extent that such a thing is possible (probably is not, given definition of plagiarism).

And I'm still alive, which is good news. So, I'm assuming, are cockroaches, which is not good news.

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