Hold my life until I'm ready to use it

There's a song on the new American Music Club album called Windows on the World about Mark Eitzel, the singer of the group, being shown a good time in New York by his friend Kid atop the World Trade Center in the restaurant the song is named after. There is no mention of 9/11 in the song but it lurks, ominous, in its seams. It ends with the crunch and squeal of feedback, which I'm sure was intended to depict the implosion of the building.

I've listened to the song over and over and I think it resonates with me so much because it illustrates how much was lost that fateful day in September. So many people's lives were taken from them that it's still hard to digest. To attach histories to the thousands who perished would be overwhelming. As a student of 9/11, I've focused more on the perpetrators of the day's events than I have on the people who were murdered. They should not be forgotten, though it may be hard to conjure their lives from the ashes. We owe them that much.

I just watched a documentary on Google video called 9/11 : Falling Man, about the people who jumped from the World Trade Center in order to escape the horror from within. It was a touching and disconcerting video. Such a grand tragedy, all that loss of life. An even greater tragedy is that the criminals who orchestrated and profited from this mass murder have not been brought to justice. And it appears there are more than a few of them. The tyranny runs deep.
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Last night I went to Christopher's in Porter Square and had dinner with Adam, Michael, Andy, Inmay, and Bridget. I had a burger with avocado slices, caramelized onions, and swiss cheese. Don't think for a second that it wasn't delicious, because it most certainly was. It was good seeing everyone. Our table was in front of a fireplace and I didn't want to leave it's warmth, that is until I saw the face of a demon in the flames. Then I was like "Yo, this is mad fucked up!", and hightailed it out of there.
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Gio brought a Yorkshire terrier puppy he was taking care of named Timothy, to work yesterday, and I fell deeply in love with him. Not romantic love---I'm not into the interspecies scene---but love in its truest sense, which is inexpressible, by the way, so I won't even bother trying to define it. We became best friends within five minutes of meeting each other and throughout the day I made excuses to go out back and hang out with him. And sometimes he'd come see me. On one occasion, I was working at the computer when I felt something brush up against my leg. I thought it may have been a rat and I nearly fell out of my chair. Turns out it was Timothy and in my fright, I nearly stepped on him. That would have sucked, crippling my new best friend.
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After today's snowfall, I expected my drive home to be a precarious one, but you know what, it was ok. I took a nap when I came home and woke up feeling blue. I always do when I emerge from naps. Don't know why. I'm usually fine when I wake up in the morning, but after naps it takes me a few minutes to snap out of the doldrums. Anyway, what I'm leading up to, and it's not much of a climax to the paragraph, is that after I woke up and after I had some nan and biryani, I went out and shoveled my driveway and sidewalks. Nothing of note happened while I was out there; just shoveled, is all.

I told you it wasn't much of a climax.