Author's Note:

I received an e-mail from an old editor asking me if I wanted to write a follow-up "story" for their upcoming Sept. 11 Anniversary issue. Last year about four days after it happened, I typed a 1,200-word this-was-my-experience-we-just-must-continue-living- I-am-an-American! piece for their publication which they enjoyed very much. The only other first-person account of 9/11 for this small, 2,400 circulation newspaper was a woman who was worried about her second cousin who worked in Queens and her inability to get through the phone lines to New York. So, my story about witnessing burning people falling and walking home covered in ash was somewhat of a boon for their 9/11 coverage. Initially, I wholeheartedly agreed to do a follow-up story, but a few days later I had second thoughts. This would be the fourth story I'd written about "my 9/11 experience" shamelessly offering some sort of "I was there" perspective. Writing another story would involve going back to that empty well once again. So, I wrote another e-mail to this editor and gave my opinions about what I thought was appropriate for the anniversary story. When I wrote this, I was downloading another e-mail from a friend that had the subject headline "Giddy-up!" and featured a 45 second film of a horse having sex with a woman.

Dear ____:

I'm having some trouble coming up with ideas for the 9/11 anniversary story. This is a pretty precarious topic for many writers because of the danger in writing something completely overwrought and self-absorbed on the topic. Although the story I wrote last year was somewhat of a cathartic, emotionally charged discourse, I am feeling a little uncomfortable with revisiting that day again. Although I still work in the Financial District near the rubble and have some insights about how the city and myself have healed this year, it seems a bit premature and presumptuous to think of the horror and resonance from 9/11 as past tense. "Remembrance" is something for the rest of the world to do, but for New York, there's still a gaping hole in many of our stomachs that won't go away. For me, this has been a year wracked with depression and uncertainty on many levels, some stemming from the attacks, some from personal relationship. Some from self-doubt and contemplating career moves.

The woman is only seen from the waist down, kneeling on what appears to be a haystack. The horse is a large brown beast and is quite restless in its stable. The woman hikes up her skirt. The horse whinnies and looks confused by the situation. But the horse is also noticeably erect and wearing a condom.

I feel like there are a lot of emotions inside me that are just rising to the top and have no place to go. I don't think this is because of 9/11. I didn't lose anyone close. I didn't eat bagels at Windows of the World every morning, nor did I ever go to the top of the Trade Center for the apex view. I had only been to the World Trade Center once for a dopey conference on municipal bonds more than two years ago. Yes, I was close to the tragedy at 9/11 and saw things I would like to erase, but so many other people have more intense, tragic stories. I don't feel comfortable going into gory detail about falling bodies, death, redemption, patriotism and all that stuff again. I don't feel qualified to write that story. Maybe I should just talk about how it's changed my view on America?

The horse props its front legs on the haystack and begins to mount the woman. She is a large lady from the waist down, with bulky thighs and an enormous rear end. The horse enters the woman. The woman groans.

I did feel patriotic for a couple months after it happened. But I don't feel very patriotic anymore. I am more cynical than ever and have come to terms with 9/11 as an irreversible tragedy rather than an attack on our civil liberties. The facts are there were people in this country's intelligence system that saw this coming. It happened anyway, so it seems that this was something that was inevitable and a dire price to pay for our country's prosperity. Maybe I'm wrong to think that and I should explore this a little more thoroughly to get my opinions lined up. But, I can't shake this certainty there will be more tragedies like this.

The horse is having sex with the woman. He's giving her short, hard thrusts from behind and adjusting appropriately to keep his footing on the haystacks. The woman is still visible even though the enormous horse has mounted her. Her groans are somewhat pained, but I think she's enjoying it at the same time.

For me, looking back on the year since 9/11, everything's changed, but nothing's changed. Is that too vague? Probably. I'll try to elaborate on it as best I can. Sometimes I feel like it's affected me. Going to work I feel more anxious. Overall I feel sickly, weaker, vulnerable. Yet sometimes I feel angry and I want to start pounding on people for no reason. Sometimes I'm blissfully unaware and just immerse myself in being some sort of libertine. Sometimes I think I should find some sort of religion. Some days I want to quit smoking. Other days, I want to become addicted to heroin. Some days I just want to sleep. Other days I want to have sex with large black hookers. You see? There's no consistency in my emotions. But, that's not all that different. Maybe a little more pronounced, but I don't want to blame this all on 9/11. I don't think I need a psychiatrist to point out that would be deflecting some of the depression that was inside me for a long time before Sept. 11.

The woman is groaning heavily. Each thrust from the horse is accompanied by the woman's horrid GUNNGH-A! . I don't think she's enjoying the horse being inside her anymore. The horse steps away for a moment. It's erect penis looks to be the size of a waffle ball bat and as thick as a soup can. It goes back inside her to finish.

But anyway, I just wanted to let you know that if I do this story, it probably will be nothing you expect. I'm feeling a general disconnect from my world right now. I have no overwhelming feelings about 9/11 anymore. It happened. As I've said, I've changed a little, but nothing too alarming. Not enough to really explore and really interest your readership. In fact, I don't really have strong feelings about too many things anymore.

The horse is quickening its pace. He gives the woman three hard thrusts in a row and she is no longer groaning, but yelling "Ow!".

So, Sept. 11, 2002 will only be another day to struggle with these feelings of disconnect, I've been struggling with as of late. For example, I'm blowing off a lot of things that I used to be very inspired to do. I'm spending a lot of time in my apartment, watching the dirty clothes pile up. I'm finding it hard to manage with everyday things. I left my dinner in the microwave for 8 hours because I'd forgotten about it. I ate it anyway.

The horse has stepped down off the haystack and has removed itself from the woman. The horse's penis is now flaccid as it falls out of her and dangles, dripping semen. There is still semen running down the back of the women's thighs. She is out of breath. The horse turns around and is searching for an exit.

Maybe the anniversary will be a good change. And I don't plan on doing anything too sentimental on the anniversary. I think I'll just sit at home and drink and watch it on TV all over again. Maybe that'll make me feel better. Or feel something.