At JFK, on a layover. So while I slept a lake house in Coldspring, Texas (near Houston) my apartment building was ravaged by fire yesterday, wiping out most of the top floor. I just read the Boston Globe’s story, talking about the 2 BU kids that were killed, both 21. There had been a power outage the previous night, and I’m assuming the fire was candle related. Apparently they had a big party that night as well, after the power went out, or even because of it, as it was a scheduled outage, which means I’m sure alcohol played a factor as well. If this was the apartment I am thinking it is, these guys had parties all the time. It was a bit of an epidemic at the building, especially this past Sept. 1st cycle. I am virtually certain i was the oldest person who lived in the building. I can’t help but think of all the times I lay in bed staring at my ceiling, hating college students and their love of alcohol and extensive partying.  And now these kids I resented so much, two of them are dead. And whatever terrible scene awaits me at my home when I get there later tonight, above me in unit 6 is a forensic investigation, Stephen Adelipour’s devestated parents will have to sift through it to claim whatever charred remnants of their son’s life are still intact. I wonder if I’d even recognize him whenever they post his picture. I can’t help but feel on a gut level that carlessness played a role in this, and I truly hope that is not the case, but the combination of situations points that way. Life is just so perfect and precious, and death so sudden and random. All we can ever do is try and increase our chances, hedge on sense and wit, and hope nothing stupid and avoidable ever takes us down. I don’t believe in fate, but I do think think you can fight off random demise to some extent. I’m not sure how sensitive these remarks are, because I actually do feel horrible about all of this, far beyond whether my RAID array is fried or my great grandfather’s photos are destroyed, because these kids were people with families and friends, fantasies and futures. All things I still get to enjoy. And while all my family and friends are all remarking how happy they are that I was not there to die or not, and I joke that if I had been there I’d have been petting my Antec P-180 right now like it was a sooten little dog…. I really am lucky. Being alive, any time of any day, means we are all a little lucky. More later….

I’ve been thinking it all day and I have to tell someone.

 

Hell hath no fury like an astronaut scorned.

 

This is why I need Conan O’Brien’s job. Incidentally, have you read this bit of brilliance?

I’ve been having all sorts of weird and specific dreams lately. Last night I dreamt that in the middle of some crazy rain storm or something, I met the guy writes/draws the Superman comic book, and he was Italian, and I spent a good deal of time explaining to him why the Doonesbury comic strip was so amazing. Which it is. But still….  Also I’m pretty sure I met him in a treehouse and finished talking to him in the front yard of my childhood home in CT. There were other people there but I dont remember any of them.

AND now proving my dream point!Today’s Doonesbury:

http://images.ucomics.com/comics/db/2007/db070205.gif