White washed.

Theme Week 2: Witnessing History

It's 11:00 p.m, and I'm watching Jay Leno attempt to have a conversation with Bob Dole. What the hell is he talking about?! I'm only 11. :click:

New house, green rugs, only one room, a studio apartment. I sleep on the couch everynight. Mom and I are staring at the blue election polls on MSNBC. Bill Clinton is winning by a long shot. Mom is cheering, I'm simply smiling at her excitement. Papa works for him. He worked for Reagan too. :click:

New apartment, same building, same green rug, plaster walls, same t.v, except now I have a bed. Bill's getting impeached, for lying about his sexual relations. I think: "that's what happens to men when they think with their dick." :click:

Another T.V., smaller, older, but different. Same apartment. It's dark. I'm wearing a party hat. The world is supposed to end tonight. Everyone is going crazy. Y2K Y2K! Mass chaos! Grammy and Grampy are on the couch counting down. I'm right in front of the tube. The ball drops. Nothing happens. :click:

I'm in D.C. It's election 2000 and I'm standing on the streets, rallying against The Bush/Cheney party. Papa is sick, but he takes us out anyway. There's quite a bit of chanting going on. They're yelling "Gore's a whore!". I forget what I was yelling, it was a much more sophisticated insult. The fucker won the election anyway. I hate republicanism. :click:

New Home. We live in a house now, a duplex. I'm at school. Tiff and I still have to share a room, though. My side is much more interesting. I'm sitting in my World History class, it's freshmen year. We're all sitting calmly at the desks watching the news. Plane # 1 went through the world trade center. I don't know how to think, I just know it's big. As I walk through the front door, my mother is crying as she watches it hit, over and over. Mom never cries. :click:

It's been only a few days after the terrorist attacks, and we're going through airport security. It's my first time on a plane. I'm terrified. I forgot to take the U-lock for my bike out of my back-pack, and they wouldn't let me get on the plane until I gave it to them. They mailed it home eventually. What in the world could I do to someone with a bike lock? We're on our way to see Papa. He has AIDS and skin cancer. I don't know If I want to see him. :click:

I'm back in D.C, papa is dying. We're listening to the planes circle Washington, protecting the home base of our government, they're right above our heads. There are talks of war and military defense. I think, "We had it coming. This is the result of America trying to police the world. We shouldn't stick our noses in other cultures' business" . Papa puts on another Morphine patch. :click:

Papa manages to live through his 50th birthday, but now he's gone. Diana Krall couldn't wait another day. Her cd came in his mailbox the day after his death. We played it after the funeral and celebrated his accomplishments. Madeline Albright made quite a speech. We made quite a many aquaintance with government officials and famous people. Half of him is on my aunt Jamie's mantle, while the other half is on my mom's. They had to split him up into several urns to make everyone happy. I wish they'd spread the ashes. :click:

Bush gets re-elected. I vote Nader. Fuck John Kerry, they're both morons. Why are people so afraid of change? It didn't help gas prices much, now did it? :click:

This is war.

:click:

posted by Kasey @ 12:05 PM