Here's a tale that vaguely revolves around 9/11. I like it because it captures the way in which life goes on around it, in some ways. I remember that day as one that rather stunned me, though. I didn't do much. I saw a bit of it on TV at work. I was in the process of losing my job, and we were sent home early. I met a coworker who was coming in late on my way out. At home, I napped. I didn't have a TV at home, so I went online a little, went to Target a little (it wasn't on), went to a bar and watched it. And then I didn't want to watch any more. Really, even at work, I'd left the TV room for a while because I couldn't take it. Not live.
In Lanier's piece, 9/11 is a backdrop for teenage angst over love, love for the nonwhite, the one who doesn't fit in. It's about liking something that others don't like and about being self-conscious about it. It's about wavering between varying feelings. Or really, maybe it's about something else entirely--read it here at Annalemma, and tell me what you think.