What inspires one to create? Is this a need? A want? A little of both? Today I bummed a lift from uptown Manhattan to Brooklyn. I was once again happily dismayed by the sheer enormity of this Metropolis. Tomorrow I'm probably going out on Long Island with my fiancee L. It's inconceivable, it really is. Not that I'm getting married again, well, yes, maybe that is inconceivable, but I meant more the size of all this. I spent much of my youth in Boston, visited California, Florida, Canada, Mexico and a multitude of points in between, worked in Phoenix and San Jose, interviewed in Dallas and Chicago; none of it compares. I also spent years of my youth in Tucson, Nogales, even Chester, Vermont. I know small towns too. Perspective. Often I just feel like crying in joy and dismay. I can't believe I live here. I can't believe anyone lives here. This is horrible. Beautifully horrible.

Cyber Punk authors write of the sprawl. If I ever finish one of these sci-fi ideas I'm toying with I might borrow the concept. It is adequate today, though. We don't really have to wait until Rockport meets Atlanta. NYC is the vision incarnate. I miss those towers, if I let myself cry I'd really lose it over that loss. The people too. But perspective, perspective: we killed more people in Afghanistan than died in that disaster. Those towers were one reason I moved here, but I don't believe we need more bloodshed. I loathe the idea of Hussein with nukes, but I loathe the idea of our self-elected president contraverting another country's sovereignty just as much. My towers are never coming back. Punishing the Iraqi people won't change that. It is no more likely to make the world a safer place. It will only militantize more muslims. But our 'leader' is so inconceivably, horrifically stupid, I'm afraid I know what happens next.