AETERNAM HABEANT REQUIEM
The cleaup operation in New York has ended, with about a thousand of the dead unidentified or unrecovered.

I was very fortunate to have lost no one on September 11. (The closest call was a friend from college who was saved because it was Tuesday, when he always goes to the gym in the morning and therefore doesn't get to work until 10.) And I can't imagine the heartache of those who did. To have the loss of their loved ones compounded by the total loss of the loved ones' remains seems more cruel than is strictly necessary, no matter how vengeful you believe your god to be. A week or so ago, I said if Chandra Levy's family had to lose her, they should at least have had a whole daughter to bury; this is incalculably worse. (But on the other hand, where were we when God created the earth? Point.)

I also see that the state of Virginia has authorized a commemorative license plate for September 11. The headline made my head spin -- but I see the plate, and it's not that bad. (I won't be putting it on my car, but it won't upset me that other people will.) And it's appropriate, if you ask me, that it should come in the Virginia DMV, since some appalling number of the hijackers got their driver's licenses here by walking through a big honkin' loophole in the Virginia residency requirements.

I just renewed my driver's license online last week. And I did this by entering a PIN code the DMV had mailed to me, on a printout of all the information contained on my license itself -- full name, address, birth date, height, driver's license number. The printout included my weight and social security number, which do not appear on my license. I guess I should be glad it didn't include my mother's maiden name, though with my social security number I doubt someone couldn't have found that out with minimal effort.

It wouldn't have been hard, I figure, to have intercepted this mailing. Say you knew someone who looked like you. Catch that person's mail on the first day of the month with his birthday in it, since his license will expire on the last day of that month. Visit the URL given on the printout, and enter all the information the DMV has helpfully supplied. Enter a credit card number; the license comes in the mail three days later. Hell, register to vote while you're at it.

I happen to be honest and upstanding -- but excuse me if this process leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

SOON IT'S GONNA RAIN
I can hear the thunder. The pressure is giving me a splitting headache. It's totally exhausting. I wish the storm would just get here already.

HEAR YE, HEAR YE
It's been a few days, but until now I haven't had time to look up the link where a jury convicted the murderer of two students at Gallaudet University. The Post article sounds like the prosecution had a pretty open-and-shut case (defense wants to appeal by challenging the judge's decision to allow letters from the defendant to his girlfriend? scuse me?), and I'm glad.

I took a couple of courses over there when I was in college, so it might seem like I'd know the place -- but even being somewhat familiar with it, Gallaudet is an otherworldly, almost eerie place to a hearing person. It's not just that it's missing the rumble of voices that other places have all the time; I also have this memory of there being precious little other noise, either. Traffic sounds, machinery, birds chirping -- hardly any of that. It seemed like people walked more softly. The whole campus was library-quiet, all the time.

And then a year and a half ago, two kids were murdered there. In their rooms, which freaked me right out. Even now, I get goosebumps thinking about it: imagine being attacked, at night, in your bed, by someone bigger and stronger than you, in a place where nobody at all can hear you, no matter how loud you scream.

REQUIESCAT IN PACE
Almost a month ago, I noted that Chandra Levy had been missing for a year. Now, of course, they've found her.

The stark truth is that it's not much of a surprise. But still, as I said then, there's a world of difference between suspicion and certainty. Her family shouldn't have had to suffer this particular pain for so long. A family shouldn't have to wait a year to bury their dead.

THE SOUND OF MUSIC
Wow, is my neighbor's piano the most annoying thing ever, or what?

She doesn't play badly, but she doesn't play especially well. Last September was when I first started noticing it, and it was because for hours and hours and hours at a time, all she played was a sort of jazz-piano abstract "Battle Hymn of the Republic." It was a nice arrangement -- once. Played constantly, it got really. Freakin. Annoying.

One weekend that stopped, and I concluded that she'd been practicing for some church thing. Periodically there'd be piano-sounds coming through the walls again, but they were never at unreasonable hours, so I couldn't really complain. When it drove me totally bonkers, I could turn the TV up, or put plugs in my ears, or -- in extreme cases -- leave the house. I didn't notice how little she'd been playing for a few months until recently she started up again.

Tonight it's "Take Me Away," by the Dixie Chicks -- a song I like a great deal, as performed by the original artists. My neighbor's rendition is heavy on the bass, loopy in the right hand, and, shall we say, not served well by the vocal. Put another way: she can play the piano okay, but the girl can't sing.

Makes me think I should resume practicing my bagpipes ...

EPISODE II: ATTACK OF THE CLONES
That.

Was.

Awesome. :-D

I'll have more to say tomorrow, I think; right now, I'm off to bed.