  I saw Farenheit 9-11 the other day. I took my friend Heather for her birthday. A beautiful and sunny Saturday and all was well. 2 hours later a hole had been ripped in the cheap veneer of the false reality I had considered to be somewhat true.
The fantasy of my percieved reality poured through the tear like the blood through the sheared flesh of my knee after it shredded along the rough pavement of the decrepet east van step last week. Like then, I could do nothing more than wince from the wound, and maybe shed a few tears. Eventually I just had to shrug my shoulders and get up and go on my way. As it was then, I said to myself upon leaving the theatre, "What can I do? I guess I'll find a bandaid later. " 
