I drove away from the WTC on the morning of 2001-09-11. I watched from a safe distance as the towers fell. It was a surreal day I shared with like 10 million people as we watched the smoke and fires and falling structures, willing with every ounce of our being that our loved ones due to be in the area at the time - and one in the building interviewing upstairs - ended up far away at the right time. The universe delivered, and we luckily lost no dear friends that day, but it was tense while some of them were in the proverbial wind.

I still - I’m ashamed to admit - think something was SUPER-fishy about the pentagon strike. I believe it when they say the parts don’t add up, and I believe them when they say the surveillance tapes from a local gas station were taken, and I debated the significance of the lamp-posts being taken down in the days before where they magically didn’t get hit by the incoming plane. And I’m pretty sure the plane following that pennsylvania crash was doing more than watching.

Do I think the planes hit the towers? Yep. Do I think the jet fuel weakened the structure until it popped? Yep. But I can’t resolve the rumour that the basement was empty on that day of all days. I heard the stories that the tail numbers were spotted elsewhere and I briefly gave it some thought until I just went “nah, fuck that” and tossed that idea.

I don’t think there’s gonna be an alternate explanation to cover the weird concerns I have, and I can live with that; but I’m not gonna forget it.

That’s the way it is.