Is that my sister is going to marry her Pennsyltucky beau. I've not actually met him in person, but the signs suggest he is a good guy. Also, he looks cute in the pictures I've seen. On the phone, he has that bizarre York County accent.
So, I'm happy for her. Also, a little bit relieved. And just the tiniest bit jealous. Even though I get skeevy at the thought of the state of marriage, I'm envious that someone, a good guy, wants to marry her, has chosen her. It's kind of hollow for me to say that I don't want to get married when no one's asking anyway.
However, MM has promised to send me a case of Mallo Cups, and I'll be thrilled if he follows through. Of course I could buy my own box of Mallo Cups, but that seems either too decadent or too pathetic. And besides... oh, well, nevermind, let's not go there.
Miss S called today to say that she saw the Hot 8 brass band playing in Times Square today when she was on her way to work. She said they were adorable and they made her cry. They're playing a benefit for New Orleans tonight in New York.
In an odd coincidence, there was a man outside my office this afternoon playing "St. James Infirmary" on the trumpet. But he was playing from sheet music and it was not exactly the same. It just made me feel ten trillion miles away from New Orleans, where Glenn David Andrews used to belt it ghetto-style.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Flaming marshmallows
During my very brief time in law school, I'd started to make friends with a young married couple who were (both) in my class. I'll call them Mr. & Ms. K. They're a little younger than me, but probably thirtyish, and they own a double a few blocks from my new house.
They were in DC for the Justice Works conference and we had drinks and dinner together last night. It was really good to talk to people who truly understand what this experience has been like. They enrolled in UT Austin, and they really don't like it. UT is higher than Tulane in the rankings, but they are unimpressed with it and feel much more appreciative of Tulane. They also don't like Austin.
We walked around and ate and drank in Adams Morgan and Dupont Circle. It was a nice night and lots of people were out in Halloween costumes. The parts of DC that I've seen are very pretty. I understand that much of the eastern quadrants are heavy ghetto.
I'll qualify what I said about DC's lack of vibrance or energy. It did seem nicely lively last night, it's just not like New York or London. But there's an up side to that, too. I find that people are pretty friendly in an almost southern manner, unlike the brusqueness of New Yorkers. Of course, their personalities change when they get behind the wheel of a car. But if this is where I end up, that's fine, it could be much, much, much worse.
Mr. & Ms. K are a bit jealous of my internship. They like DC, too, but we all miss New Orleans.
We stopped the Cosi on Connecticut Avenue for coffee and dessert and ordered make-it-yourself s'mores. The waiter brings you a little kettle filled with sterno and lights it and you roast your own marshmallows at the table. It was fun, though it seems like a bit of fire hazard, what with the leaping flames and burning marshmallows. I'm surprised you don't have to sign a release when you order it.
They were in DC for the Justice Works conference and we had drinks and dinner together last night. It was really good to talk to people who truly understand what this experience has been like. They enrolled in UT Austin, and they really don't like it. UT is higher than Tulane in the rankings, but they are unimpressed with it and feel much more appreciative of Tulane. They also don't like Austin.
We walked around and ate and drank in Adams Morgan and Dupont Circle. It was a nice night and lots of people were out in Halloween costumes. The parts of DC that I've seen are very pretty. I understand that much of the eastern quadrants are heavy ghetto.
I'll qualify what I said about DC's lack of vibrance or energy. It did seem nicely lively last night, it's just not like New York or London. But there's an up side to that, too. I find that people are pretty friendly in an almost southern manner, unlike the brusqueness of New Yorkers. Of course, their personalities change when they get behind the wheel of a car. But if this is where I end up, that's fine, it could be much, much, much worse.
Mr. & Ms. K are a bit jealous of my internship. They like DC, too, but we all miss New Orleans.
We stopped the Cosi on Connecticut Avenue for coffee and dessert and ordered make-it-yourself s'mores. The waiter brings you a little kettle filled with sterno and lights it and you roast your own marshmallows at the table. It was fun, though it seems like a bit of fire hazard, what with the leaping flames and burning marshmallows. I'm surprised you don't have to sign a release when you order it.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
My current theme song
"Government Center," Modern Lovers. They've got a lot of great desks and chairs at the government center...
I leave the house in the dark and come back in the dark. On the train on the way out, I can see into the offices of the thousands of people who are working late.
In New Orleans, Halloween parties, the Voodoofest and the Independent Book Fair are going on, and people who said they wouldn't move back are changing their minds. And it's a festival of getting laid.
I leave the house in the dark and come back in the dark. On the train on the way out, I can see into the offices of the thousands of people who are working late.
In New Orleans, Halloween parties, the Voodoofest and the Independent Book Fair are going on, and people who said they wouldn't move back are changing their minds. And it's a festival of getting laid.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Workaholic World
I'm in DC. I drove here in the rain, through the hills of eastern Ohio and Pennsylvania, the landscape that's most deeply imprinted on my psyche. It's where I grew up. It's beautiful, I love it, but in a melancholy way. It was a drive through rainy cold fall weather, which is the way it always is in my dreams and imagination.
Our nation's capitol: I like it but I don't love it. It's a definite improvement over STL, but it's not quite as lively and vibrant as you might expect of the capitol of the most powerful nation on earth. I could live here and be happy if New Orleans was not an option, but I do miss New Orleans terribly, still. You appreciate it more in these cities that are many times larger and yet don't have the energy and atmosphere and music.
I like my job so far, but I haven't really done any work yet, just gone to orientations and trainings. The people in the office seem happier and quirkier than I expected.
What I don't like, and will find hard to take, is the commute. I'm staying with an aunt and uncle in Woodbridge, VA. It's about 22 miles from the capitol building, which is less than the distance from my parent's house to the Gateway Arch in downtown STL. But it takes me a half an hour to drive five miles to a commuter train, which takes 50 minutes to get to Union Station, and then I walk for 15-20 minutes or get on the metro and ride to the next stop and then walk for 10 minutes. I don't mind the walking or the train ride, but I do mind the sitting at endless lights in the suburbs and the big chunk the whole process takes out of the day. I don't like being the tired-looking no-longer-young lady in the tan trenchcoat and black pumps on the commuter train.
But I am told that it would take even longer to drive. I didn't enjoy my single experience on the beltway and am not anxious to repeat it daily. How the hell do people do this everyday for months and years on end? Well, it goes without saying that if I moved here permanently, I'd live in the city, or at least somewhere close to the metro.
I think everyone here is a workaholic. I want to work, but I want to have fun when it's over, not sit on a train in my grey suit. The last train leaves at 7:00, so if I'm going to stay in the city after work, I'll have to find another way to get in and out. I'm told I have to get on the freeway and go up three exits to get to the closest outermost metro stop. It might be worth the freeway traffic on Fridays, at least.
I feel old as dirt and over the hill, with my ever-deepening forehead lines. Yet men are looking at me and flirting.
The one rule my uncle only half-jokingly made for staying with them is that only married people can have sex in the house. Who am I going to have sex with, anyway? But I would like to spark with someone, and get laid. There are good-looking guys at the job, but they all wear wedding rings.
Thank god I got a BMW so I can fit in with the other kids here.
Our nation's capitol: I like it but I don't love it. It's a definite improvement over STL, but it's not quite as lively and vibrant as you might expect of the capitol of the most powerful nation on earth. I could live here and be happy if New Orleans was not an option, but I do miss New Orleans terribly, still. You appreciate it more in these cities that are many times larger and yet don't have the energy and atmosphere and music.
I like my job so far, but I haven't really done any work yet, just gone to orientations and trainings. The people in the office seem happier and quirkier than I expected.
What I don't like, and will find hard to take, is the commute. I'm staying with an aunt and uncle in Woodbridge, VA. It's about 22 miles from the capitol building, which is less than the distance from my parent's house to the Gateway Arch in downtown STL. But it takes me a half an hour to drive five miles to a commuter train, which takes 50 minutes to get to Union Station, and then I walk for 15-20 minutes or get on the metro and ride to the next stop and then walk for 10 minutes. I don't mind the walking or the train ride, but I do mind the sitting at endless lights in the suburbs and the big chunk the whole process takes out of the day. I don't like being the tired-looking no-longer-young lady in the tan trenchcoat and black pumps on the commuter train.
But I am told that it would take even longer to drive. I didn't enjoy my single experience on the beltway and am not anxious to repeat it daily. How the hell do people do this everyday for months and years on end? Well, it goes without saying that if I moved here permanently, I'd live in the city, or at least somewhere close to the metro.
I think everyone here is a workaholic. I want to work, but I want to have fun when it's over, not sit on a train in my grey suit. The last train leaves at 7:00, so if I'm going to stay in the city after work, I'll have to find another way to get in and out. I'm told I have to get on the freeway and go up three exits to get to the closest outermost metro stop. It might be worth the freeway traffic on Fridays, at least.
I feel old as dirt and over the hill, with my ever-deepening forehead lines. Yet men are looking at me and flirting.
The one rule my uncle only half-jokingly made for staying with them is that only married people can have sex in the house. Who am I going to have sex with, anyway? But I would like to spark with someone, and get laid. There are good-looking guys at the job, but they all wear wedding rings.
Thank god I got a BMW so I can fit in with the other kids here.
Friday, October 21, 2005
And I'm off...
Finally, at long last, I'm leaving for DC tomorrow. I don't know what to expect of the job and I should be nervous, but I can only worry about what's in front of me and I'm not there yet. I'm sure it will be an interesting experience and I can only hope that I don't prove to be totally incompetent at the work.
I think I'm going to go to NYC for my birthday and to Pennyslvania to see my sister and other assorted relatives for Thanksgiving.
In the meantime, Miss S has been to New Orleans and and back. On the way back, she left with the feeling that she was making a collossal mistake, that New Orleans is home and she didn't want to leave. But of course, it's not like she's banished forever. She can come back when she's ready. Right now there's not many options for making a living there.
I feel reassured by her reluctance to leave--it means New Orleans still has some of its old power to draw you in and hold you there. The main reason she didn't want to leave, though, is because she met two guys there in one week, and she thought one of them was particularly promising.
The other one is living in what used to be Miss L's old apartment, next door to my old apartment. It's a small town, after all, and now it's even smaller.
I think I'm going to go to NYC for my birthday and to Pennyslvania to see my sister and other assorted relatives for Thanksgiving.
In the meantime, Miss S has been to New Orleans and and back. On the way back, she left with the feeling that she was making a collossal mistake, that New Orleans is home and she didn't want to leave. But of course, it's not like she's banished forever. She can come back when she's ready. Right now there's not many options for making a living there.
I feel reassured by her reluctance to leave--it means New Orleans still has some of its old power to draw you in and hold you there. The main reason she didn't want to leave, though, is because she met two guys there in one week, and she thought one of them was particularly promising.
The other one is living in what used to be Miss L's old apartment, next door to my old apartment. It's a small town, after all, and now it's even smaller.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Where I'm at
St. Charles County, Missouri (aka the State of Misery) is a hellish vision of suburbia gone mad. But the town of St. Charles was originally built by the French, and the old part reminds me a little bit (I said a LITTLE bit) of New Orleans. Or at least, it's visually attractive and it kinda feels like a real town.
I took a walk down there tonight and smoked some Sherman MCDs, the pretentious cigarette of my tragic youth. No, I don't really smoke, but I'm regressing. Now I have a cigarette hangover and I smell unpleasantly like stale cigarette smoke.
While walking, I saw an odd, shaggy-looking rat run down an alley. It looked like a nutria--made me feel right at home--but nutria haven't made it this far north, have they?
I was going to have a cocktail to go with my cigarettes, but all the bars seemed to be sports oriented and filled with lathered-up Cardinals fans watching the game.
So, I don't know if there's any culture down there to speak of, but still that's where you'd want to live if you had to live around here. And it's surrounded by rings and layers of strip malls and tacky-looking subdivisions.
About ten years or so, the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers flooded badly around here and some areas were under several feet of water for months. It would have been a New Orleans-scale disaster, except that not much had been built in the flood plains. But now, development has sprung up all over the place in those areas that were badly flooded a decade ago. Since I've been here, they approved another mall to be built in a flood plain here in St. Charles County. Of course they're going to prevent it from flooding again by building new, bigger, higher levees. And you wonder if these people are aware of recent events a few hundred miles south on this same river, or if they can't connect the dots. Anyway, it's not like this place needs another fucking mall, strip mall or big box development. I don't think there's anyplace in the Greater St. Louis area where you're more than two miles from a Target, a Wal-Mart, a Steak n Shake (not a bad thing), a Home Depot, a Best Buy, a Circuit City, an Olive Garden, etc, etc. Real estate developers = Satan.
On another subject, I wasn't going to brag about my car but... I really, really love it. It's a ten-year-old 318is--an aged starter BMW, so it's not quite the height of decadent luxury. It's a "luxury compact" with a 5-speed manual transmission and a 1.8 liter 4-cylinder engine, which is not a terrifically fast accelerator. But that's about the only bad thing I have to say about it--and anyway, my last car was a 1972 Beetle, so what do I know about acceleration? And if you give it a couple minutes it can get pretty fast. It's great at high speeds, very solid and smooth, with a little bit of that European-car engine whine. It handles like you think a BMW oughta, I definitely have gained an understanding of what the hype is about. The interior is clean tan leather, the exterior is dark green and at first glance looks pretty cherry, though closer inspection reveals that the clearcoat is rubbing off the back bumper and the baseboard on the driver's side is cracked from an accident. Still, it's the best car I've ever owned. It almost seems like a life-changer. People do think of you differently if you're driving a BMW--they think you're a bitch. (But that's just cause they're jealous or intimidated, of course.) I don't think I'll be able to get any slacker hipster boys in that car, but that's probably for the best.
Speaking of boys, men, dating, sex, etc.--I had a chance to see 9 1/2 Weeks a few days ago (don't ask). I was really creeped out by Mickey Rourke (as well as Kim Basinger's "acting" and 80s fashions)--but it was a relief, a feeling of great freedom, to feel turned off by him. The good thing about the debacle with the Insane Republican Med Student is that it cured me of my perverse attraction to creepy misogynistic control freaks. That night I had a very pleasant dream about being in my bed in my house in New Orleans with sweet, likeable John Cusack. I didn't want to wake up.
I still think romance is a crock of shit, but if I again find myself all tangled up over someone, I hope it will be someone more like the typical John Cusack character (unless we're talking Grosse Pointe Blank)(Being John Malkovich wasn't typical) and less like the typical cocky, creepy Mickey Rourke character--not even Mickey Rourke in Diner, which was the closest he ever came to being likeable.
I can hear you all laughing at me, but I don't care.
I took a walk down there tonight and smoked some Sherman MCDs, the pretentious cigarette of my tragic youth. No, I don't really smoke, but I'm regressing. Now I have a cigarette hangover and I smell unpleasantly like stale cigarette smoke.
While walking, I saw an odd, shaggy-looking rat run down an alley. It looked like a nutria--made me feel right at home--but nutria haven't made it this far north, have they?
I was going to have a cocktail to go with my cigarettes, but all the bars seemed to be sports oriented and filled with lathered-up Cardinals fans watching the game.
So, I don't know if there's any culture down there to speak of, but still that's where you'd want to live if you had to live around here. And it's surrounded by rings and layers of strip malls and tacky-looking subdivisions.
About ten years or so, the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers flooded badly around here and some areas were under several feet of water for months. It would have been a New Orleans-scale disaster, except that not much had been built in the flood plains. But now, development has sprung up all over the place in those areas that were badly flooded a decade ago. Since I've been here, they approved another mall to be built in a flood plain here in St. Charles County. Of course they're going to prevent it from flooding again by building new, bigger, higher levees. And you wonder if these people are aware of recent events a few hundred miles south on this same river, or if they can't connect the dots. Anyway, it's not like this place needs another fucking mall, strip mall or big box development. I don't think there's anyplace in the Greater St. Louis area where you're more than two miles from a Target, a Wal-Mart, a Steak n Shake (not a bad thing), a Home Depot, a Best Buy, a Circuit City, an Olive Garden, etc, etc. Real estate developers = Satan.
On another subject, I wasn't going to brag about my car but... I really, really love it. It's a ten-year-old 318is--an aged starter BMW, so it's not quite the height of decadent luxury. It's a "luxury compact" with a 5-speed manual transmission and a 1.8 liter 4-cylinder engine, which is not a terrifically fast accelerator. But that's about the only bad thing I have to say about it--and anyway, my last car was a 1972 Beetle, so what do I know about acceleration? And if you give it a couple minutes it can get pretty fast. It's great at high speeds, very solid and smooth, with a little bit of that European-car engine whine. It handles like you think a BMW oughta, I definitely have gained an understanding of what the hype is about. The interior is clean tan leather, the exterior is dark green and at first glance looks pretty cherry, though closer inspection reveals that the clearcoat is rubbing off the back bumper and the baseboard on the driver's side is cracked from an accident. Still, it's the best car I've ever owned. It almost seems like a life-changer. People do think of you differently if you're driving a BMW--they think you're a bitch. (But that's just cause they're jealous or intimidated, of course.) I don't think I'll be able to get any slacker hipster boys in that car, but that's probably for the best.
Speaking of boys, men, dating, sex, etc.--I had a chance to see 9 1/2 Weeks a few days ago (don't ask). I was really creeped out by Mickey Rourke (as well as Kim Basinger's "acting" and 80s fashions)--but it was a relief, a feeling of great freedom, to feel turned off by him. The good thing about the debacle with the Insane Republican Med Student is that it cured me of my perverse attraction to creepy misogynistic control freaks. That night I had a very pleasant dream about being in my bed in my house in New Orleans with sweet, likeable John Cusack. I didn't want to wake up.
I still think romance is a crock of shit, but if I again find myself all tangled up over someone, I hope it will be someone more like the typical John Cusack character (unless we're talking Grosse Pointe Blank)(Being John Malkovich wasn't typical) and less like the typical cocky, creepy Mickey Rourke character--not even Mickey Rourke in Diner, which was the closest he ever came to being likeable.
I can hear you all laughing at me, but I don't care.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Friday, October 14, 2005
Still waiting
Miss S is in New Orleans, packing up. She says it's sad and strange and too quiet. Even in the relatively untouched Irish Channel, there are random spots of devastation. The brick building on the corner of Magazine and Jackson, that housed a florist and upstairs apartments, crumbled under a collapsed roof.
But Slice, Juan's Flying Burrito, Parasol's, the Creole Creamery, the Sav-A-Center on Tchoupitoulas and the A&P on Magazine are all open. Thus, pizza, tacos, cocktails, ice cream and groceries are available. I've also read that Cafe du Monde will reopen next week. Also, I hear men now outnumber women there by about ten to one. So if I liked the National Guard type, I guess I'd be set.
I want to go back. Instead I'm still waiting. I've been talking to a guy from Tulane's career services who is working out of an office at Washington University. He says give the DOJ till the 20th! Jeez. In addition to the paranoia of imagining what they're going to find objectionable about me, it's frustrating because that's my way out of this house, and it keeps getting pushed back. I can't go back to New Orleans just yet because someone else is staying in my house, and there's nowhere else for me to stay there.
I'm lonely here, and I'll be lonely in DC, and I'll be lonely when I go back, because none of my friends except A plan to move back. But I'll have the house and the livestock and a built-in social group through school.
I love my parents and I want them to be happy, but I'd like them to be happy at a bit of a distance. Anyway, I think they're about as happy as they're capable, and it seems the only thing I could do to make them happier would be to be an entirely different kind of person.
But Slice, Juan's Flying Burrito, Parasol's, the Creole Creamery, the Sav-A-Center on Tchoupitoulas and the A&P on Magazine are all open. Thus, pizza, tacos, cocktails, ice cream and groceries are available. I've also read that Cafe du Monde will reopen next week. Also, I hear men now outnumber women there by about ten to one. So if I liked the National Guard type, I guess I'd be set.
I want to go back. Instead I'm still waiting. I've been talking to a guy from Tulane's career services who is working out of an office at Washington University. He says give the DOJ till the 20th! Jeez. In addition to the paranoia of imagining what they're going to find objectionable about me, it's frustrating because that's my way out of this house, and it keeps getting pushed back. I can't go back to New Orleans just yet because someone else is staying in my house, and there's nowhere else for me to stay there.
I'm lonely here, and I'll be lonely in DC, and I'll be lonely when I go back, because none of my friends except A plan to move back. But I'll have the house and the livestock and a built-in social group through school.
I love my parents and I want them to be happy, but I'd like them to be happy at a bit of a distance. Anyway, I think they're about as happy as they're capable, and it seems the only thing I could do to make them happier would be to be an entirely different kind of person.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Waiting
Last summer, I tried to buy a house in New Orleans, but everything fell apart at the last minute. By that point, law school and the end of my employment were looming and I gave up. Now that seems like yet another way that I was lucky. The day after the deal fell through, I found that adorable rental house, with an option to buy in a year or so. It was perfect.
I still get email from the real estate agent I was working with, who is now back in New Orleans. Her house is in the Bywater, where they seem to have fewer utility services than uptown. That's also where A lives--he said they won't have home phone service until MARCH. They basically have to reinstall the entire infrastructure. But uptown is in better shape. The real estate agent mentioned that, although the CCs on the corner of Jefferson and Magazine is closed, somehow its wireless internet is still going strong. So all these people from across town gather outside its windows to access the internet and send email.
It's been a week since I did my mountain of paperwork for my internship and related background check. I was feeling paranoid because I hand't heard anything, and I started to wonder if I had amnesia about engaging in some traitorious subversive activity. But yesterday I got a phone call, asking me to fax over one more document. Was there a problem? I asked, trying not to sound too nervous. No, they were just getting around to reviewing my file. But when they want me to do something, I have to do it right that second. I think--I hope--everything should be finished today, and I will find out when and where I have to report for work.
Which gives me something new to worry about. I was looking at last year's cases, which they list online. About half the time they seem to be on what I would consider the right side, and half the time they're not. They're the EPA's legal defenders, and I think its fair to say that the EPA is, moderately speaking, not what it should be.
It's depressing. Politically and environmentally, what's happening in the wake of the hurricanes in Louisiana is depressing. Because nothing, NOTHING, that should be done is being done. For one thing, this should have been a huge national wakeup call about the rapid disappearance of the Louisiana coast and the many devastating consequences of that. But even now, no one is paying attention, and our last-minute opportunity is being squandered.
I pushed Mike Tidwell's Bayou Farewell last week. I have the pushy urge to send a copy to everyone I know. Could you read it as a favor to me, please? Here's something from the introduction, which was published in 2003 and probably writting in 2002 or earlier:
"A devastating chain reaction has resulted from the taming of the Mississippi, and now the entire coast is disappearing at breakneck speed, with an area equal to the size of Manhattan succumbing every ten months. It is, hands down, the fastest-disappearing landmass on earth, and New Orleans itself is at great risk of vanishing.
"What's being lost is an American treasure, a place as big as the Everglades and just as beautiful, where sky and marsh and wildlife converge, where millions of migratory birds thrive on wetlands that once served as muse to John James Audubon. This world, containing a staggering 25 percent of America's coastal wetlands, may be totally gone in the next few decades, taking with it a huge part of America's economy and a shield against hurricanes for two million citizens.
"Yet almost no one outside the affected area, outside lower Louisiana, knows what's happening here..."
By the way, that wasn't a typo: an area the size of Manhattan disappears every TEN MONTHS. If Massachusetts or California or just about any other state was losing landmass at that rate, it would cause a national uproar. But this is happening in poor, corrupt, fucked-up Louisiana, and no one gives a shit.
I can't stand it.
I still get email from the real estate agent I was working with, who is now back in New Orleans. Her house is in the Bywater, where they seem to have fewer utility services than uptown. That's also where A lives--he said they won't have home phone service until MARCH. They basically have to reinstall the entire infrastructure. But uptown is in better shape. The real estate agent mentioned that, although the CCs on the corner of Jefferson and Magazine is closed, somehow its wireless internet is still going strong. So all these people from across town gather outside its windows to access the internet and send email.
It's been a week since I did my mountain of paperwork for my internship and related background check. I was feeling paranoid because I hand't heard anything, and I started to wonder if I had amnesia about engaging in some traitorious subversive activity. But yesterday I got a phone call, asking me to fax over one more document. Was there a problem? I asked, trying not to sound too nervous. No, they were just getting around to reviewing my file. But when they want me to do something, I have to do it right that second. I think--I hope--everything should be finished today, and I will find out when and where I have to report for work.
Which gives me something new to worry about. I was looking at last year's cases, which they list online. About half the time they seem to be on what I would consider the right side, and half the time they're not. They're the EPA's legal defenders, and I think its fair to say that the EPA is, moderately speaking, not what it should be.
It's depressing. Politically and environmentally, what's happening in the wake of the hurricanes in Louisiana is depressing. Because nothing, NOTHING, that should be done is being done. For one thing, this should have been a huge national wakeup call about the rapid disappearance of the Louisiana coast and the many devastating consequences of that. But even now, no one is paying attention, and our last-minute opportunity is being squandered.
I pushed Mike Tidwell's Bayou Farewell last week. I have the pushy urge to send a copy to everyone I know. Could you read it as a favor to me, please? Here's something from the introduction, which was published in 2003 and probably writting in 2002 or earlier:
"A devastating chain reaction has resulted from the taming of the Mississippi, and now the entire coast is disappearing at breakneck speed, with an area equal to the size of Manhattan succumbing every ten months. It is, hands down, the fastest-disappearing landmass on earth, and New Orleans itself is at great risk of vanishing.
"What's being lost is an American treasure, a place as big as the Everglades and just as beautiful, where sky and marsh and wildlife converge, where millions of migratory birds thrive on wetlands that once served as muse to John James Audubon. This world, containing a staggering 25 percent of America's coastal wetlands, may be totally gone in the next few decades, taking with it a huge part of America's economy and a shield against hurricanes for two million citizens.
"Yet almost no one outside the affected area, outside lower Louisiana, knows what's happening here..."
By the way, that wasn't a typo: an area the size of Manhattan disappears every TEN MONTHS. If Massachusetts or California or just about any other state was losing landmass at that rate, it would cause a national uproar. But this is happening in poor, corrupt, fucked-up Louisiana, and no one gives a shit.
I can't stand it.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Aural artifact
This afternoon I tried to call some people who I think might be back home in New Orleans. I found that it's still pretty hard to get through to a home number or a cell number. Then I just started to call all the numbers in my address book just to see what was working.
I tried WWOZ's livewire, a recorded announcement of club listings. I got through and listened to the list of bands that were playing in New Orleans on Saturday, August 27--exactly six weeks ago.
You can hear it for yourself at 504-780-3222.
I tried WWOZ's livewire, a recorded announcement of club listings. I got through and listened to the list of bands that were playing in New Orleans on Saturday, August 27--exactly six weeks ago.
You can hear it for yourself at 504-780-3222.
Lonely & bored
The earthquake in Pakistan is much worse than Hurricane Katrina, but so far away. Catastrophes are endless and constant. The one that has blown my life inside out is just as abstract to the vast majority of people as the latest earthquake is to me. Maybe someday we'll be better people who feel everyone's pain equally--but then we would never stop suffering.
Haven't heard yet about the big scary background check. In the meantime I'm lonely and bored, bored and lonely, borderline depressed, and occasionally horny; sick of all 781 songs currently on my ipod; and disappointed with humanity in general and the dateable male population in particular. I wish we all were better. Except for you--you're perfect.
Haven't heard yet about the big scary background check. In the meantime I'm lonely and bored, bored and lonely, borderline depressed, and occasionally horny; sick of all 781 songs currently on my ipod; and disappointed with humanity in general and the dateable male population in particular. I wish we all were better. Except for you--you're perfect.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
I miss Bill Clinton
When he was president, I was frustrated and disappointed with him; now I'd give my left tit to have him back. How come it's an ex-president who's on the news talking sensibly about how to bring back New Orleans?
The expected high temperature there is 88. October is a great time to be in New Orleans--the heat gets less relentless, but it's still sunny and warm. Here it's getting cool and dark. I always have a hard time with the change of seasons. This year could be harder than ever--or maybe I'm so much in an imperturbable survival mindset that I won't feel it at all.
The expected high temperature there is 88. October is a great time to be in New Orleans--the heat gets less relentless, but it's still sunny and warm. Here it's getting cool and dark. I always have a hard time with the change of seasons. This year could be harder than ever--or maybe I'm so much in an imperturbable survival mindset that I won't feel it at all.
Screw Bellsouth
I just got a $155 bill from Bellsouth for a) residential service that hasn't been functional for 5 1/2 weeks; b) internet service that, even if it was working, I haven't been able to use for 5 1/2 weeks due to the fact that I had to evacuate from a monster hurricane; and c) crappy Cingular cell phone service and 5 1/2 weeks of shitty reception, dropped calls, and not being able to call other 504 numbers or being accessible to people who were trying to call me.
Then I had to pay $25 to suspend service that isn't even working right now. I called them up to scream at them, but no one's answering the phone right now.
I also got a $200 bill from Entergy. Fuck em all.
Don't ever get Cingular wireless.
Then I had to pay $25 to suspend service that isn't even working right now. I called them up to scream at them, but no one's answering the phone right now.
I also got a $200 bill from Entergy. Fuck em all.
Don't ever get Cingular wireless.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
T the Underaged
The last time I got laid was way back in April, with T the Underaged. We had a long, long flirtation capped by a single sexual encounter. I expected it to be more than that, but I think I scared him off. I seemed to be cast in a Mrs. Robinson role with him--he was twelve years younger than me. The highlight of that night wasn't the sex--it was the drunk elderly retired gynecologist who bought us beers at the Half Moon and told T he should marry me.
But he was a good guy, very likeable. And he worked for the city. He was a mayoral appointee. He'd just bought a little house in the Irish Channel. And now I assume he's been laid off. His house might be okay. I hope he's okay. I'd like to get in touch, but it seems awkward.
My libido has started to stir a little bit, but I wish it wouldn't. Now is not a good time to be horny.
But he was a good guy, very likeable. And he worked for the city. He was a mayoral appointee. He'd just bought a little house in the Irish Channel. And now I assume he's been laid off. His house might be okay. I hope he's okay. I'd like to get in touch, but it seems awkward.
My libido has started to stir a little bit, but I wish it wouldn't. Now is not a good time to be horny.
All of the above
I've mentioned A's blog before (rantautology.blogspot.com) but I'll plug it again because he wrote a good post from New Orleans a couple of days ago. And again I wish I was there, but instead it seems I'm going to DC, assuming I pass the background check.
Miss S is going back next week, but only to get her stuff. She is right and sensible and wise when she says that era in New Orleans is over. That time in our lives is over, abruptly, and we have no choice but to move on.
I want to be in New Orleans with the hipster holdouts, but my life is going in a different direction. I'm glad of it, but want to hold on to my old life while I start a new one. I want everything. I want to be a New Orleans music slacker and coffee-shop boho and a great, prolific writer and a workaholic environmental lawyer doing my part to save the world.
But I'm not sure it works that way, that you can have it all at once. Maybe you can have it all, but you have to have it one thing at a time. Maybe the golden age of hanging out in the land of dreamy dreams is over. Maybe now is my personal age of ambition and working like a maniac.
Still, I'd like to be doing the work in New Orleans as it was two months ago, fueled by coffee from the Rue and lunches from the Oak Street Cafe, listening to good radio, commuting by bike and blowing off steam at the Circle Bar and the Dragon's Den, still rubbing elbows with the freaks, musicians, artists and hipsters.
Miss S is going back next week, but only to get her stuff. She is right and sensible and wise when she says that era in New Orleans is over. That time in our lives is over, abruptly, and we have no choice but to move on.
I want to be in New Orleans with the hipster holdouts, but my life is going in a different direction. I'm glad of it, but want to hold on to my old life while I start a new one. I want everything. I want to be a New Orleans music slacker and coffee-shop boho and a great, prolific writer and a workaholic environmental lawyer doing my part to save the world.
But I'm not sure it works that way, that you can have it all at once. Maybe you can have it all, but you have to have it one thing at a time. Maybe the golden age of hanging out in the land of dreamy dreams is over. Maybe now is my personal age of ambition and working like a maniac.
Still, I'd like to be doing the work in New Orleans as it was two months ago, fueled by coffee from the Rue and lunches from the Oak Street Cafe, listening to good radio, commuting by bike and blowing off steam at the Circle Bar and the Dragon's Den, still rubbing elbows with the freaks, musicians, artists and hipsters.
Monday, October 03, 2005
What to do?
I thought the DOJ had blown me off, but they called today and offered me a paying internship in the division of the environment and natural resources, assuming I pass the background check. In the meantime, the university wants me to start tomorrow. What to do?
I don't want to pass up this opportunity--it's usually very hard to get an internship at the DOJ. I'd rather be in DC than here, and in fact I think it's likely I'll eventually end up in DC if I don't stay in New Orleans.
But I don't feel right about dumping the obligations I've acquired here. I guess the hard thing is that the job at Washington University would represent an opportunity and a promotion if I had stayed in the job that I just left to go to law school.
The silver lining is that I've just demonstrated that I'm actually pretty marketable--my stuckness was a function of New Orleans' bad and very limited economy and the appeal of its non-work-related activities, and not a reflection on my skills and talents.
I don't want to pass up this opportunity--it's usually very hard to get an internship at the DOJ. I'd rather be in DC than here, and in fact I think it's likely I'll eventually end up in DC if I don't stay in New Orleans.
But I don't feel right about dumping the obligations I've acquired here. I guess the hard thing is that the job at Washington University would represent an opportunity and a promotion if I had stayed in the job that I just left to go to law school.
The silver lining is that I've just demonstrated that I'm actually pretty marketable--my stuckness was a function of New Orleans' bad and very limited economy and the appeal of its non-work-related activities, and not a reflection on my skills and talents.
Guilt & Music
I was going to post a picture of my new car, but I don't want to do anything that would seem like bragging about owning a BMW. I've never suffered much from liberal guilt--unlike A, who sometimes seems to feel guilty for sucking air. But Katrina has drawn such a stark line between New Orleans' haves and have-nots. There were times when I felt in danger of landing on the wrong side of the line, but it turns out that I am safely amongst the "haves." And yet I don't feel like I have enough to be much help to anyone else right now.
Before now, I didn't realize how large A looms in my head. It's not like we're the best of friends. I haven't talked to him in at least three weeks. But I have an ongoing mental conversation with him. We have intellectual chemistry of some strange sort.
Last year, the sometimes-great, sometimes-tedious Dirty Dozen Brass Band released an album called "Funeral for a Friend" in honor of Tuba Fats. They're at their old-school best on it. But now it seems like a record of mourning for New Orleans.
Other New Orleans music getting heavy play on my ipod:
Treme Brass Band “Gimme My Money Back”
Lil Rascals Brass Band “Knock With Me-Rock With Me”
Rebirth Brass Band “Let Me Do My Thing” “Do Whatcha Wanna”
R. Scully “Corkscrew” “It Ain’t So Bad, Goodbye” "Gas Money" "Night is Welcome" "Little Miss"--oh hell, his whole recond.
Morning 40 Federation “Professional” “Stinky” “9th Ward”
Mystikal, “Bouncin Back”
The Party Boys “We Got a Party”
And of course, Professor Longhair “Go to the Mardi Gras”
I think I'll probably cry like a baby if I ever hear "12 Yats of Christmas" again, especially with its reference to the 17th Street Canal.
Anyway, instead of my car, I'll post Miss P. In this case the "P" stands for "pissed."
Before now, I didn't realize how large A looms in my head. It's not like we're the best of friends. I haven't talked to him in at least three weeks. But I have an ongoing mental conversation with him. We have intellectual chemistry of some strange sort.
Last year, the sometimes-great, sometimes-tedious Dirty Dozen Brass Band released an album called "Funeral for a Friend" in honor of Tuba Fats. They're at their old-school best on it. But now it seems like a record of mourning for New Orleans.
Other New Orleans music getting heavy play on my ipod:
Treme Brass Band “Gimme My Money Back”
Lil Rascals Brass Band “Knock With Me-Rock With Me”
Rebirth Brass Band “Let Me Do My Thing” “Do Whatcha Wanna”
R. Scully “Corkscrew” “It Ain’t So Bad, Goodbye” "Gas Money" "Night is Welcome" "Little Miss"--oh hell, his whole recond.
Morning 40 Federation “Professional” “Stinky” “9th Ward”
Mystikal, “Bouncin Back”
The Party Boys “We Got a Party”
And of course, Professor Longhair “Go to the Mardi Gras”
I think I'll probably cry like a baby if I ever hear "12 Yats of Christmas" again, especially with its reference to the 17th Street Canal.
Anyway, instead of my car, I'll post Miss P. In this case the "P" stands for "pissed."
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Kalamu
I can't stand that writers from outside of New Orleans are there now, writing about it, and here I am stranded in the Midwest. But David Remnick has a pretty good article in the New Yorker about New Orleans, the city's poor black refugees, their conspiracy theories, their plight.
He interviewed Kalamu ya Salaam, who I think is a bit of a blowhard (he used to do a show on WWOZ and he could be annoying) and who I regret to report is willing to believe the paranoid theories that The Man flooded the 9th Ward on purpose. Even so, some of what he says is, I think, both true and sad:
"You are going to see a lot of suicides this winter. A lot of poor people depend entirely on their extended family and their friends who share their condition to be a buffer against the pain of that condition. By winter, a lot of the generosity and aid that's been so palpable lately will begin to slow down and the reality of not going home again will hit people hard. They will be very alone.
"People forget how important all those Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs are for people. It's a community for a lot of people who have nothing. Some people have never left New Orleans. Some have never seen snow. So you wake up and you find yourself beyond the reach of friends, beyond the reach of members of your family, and you are working in a fast food restaurant in Utah somewhere and there is no conceivable way for you to get back to the city you love. How are you going to feel?"
He interviewed Kalamu ya Salaam, who I think is a bit of a blowhard (he used to do a show on WWOZ and he could be annoying) and who I regret to report is willing to believe the paranoid theories that The Man flooded the 9th Ward on purpose. Even so, some of what he says is, I think, both true and sad:
"You are going to see a lot of suicides this winter. A lot of poor people depend entirely on their extended family and their friends who share their condition to be a buffer against the pain of that condition. By winter, a lot of the generosity and aid that's been so palpable lately will begin to slow down and the reality of not going home again will hit people hard. They will be very alone.
"People forget how important all those Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs are for people. It's a community for a lot of people who have nothing. Some people have never left New Orleans. Some have never seen snow. So you wake up and you find yourself beyond the reach of friends, beyond the reach of members of your family, and you are working in a fast food restaurant in Utah somewhere and there is no conceivable way for you to get back to the city you love. How are you going to feel?"
Home
My neighbors are going home. The news this morning was about people moving back into New Orleans and about bars and clubs reopening. Besides Bourbon Street, they mentioned Molly's in the Quarter and the Maple Leaf, which is two blocks from my house.
I wish I could go home right now, today. I'm working almost as hard as I would be in law school and I'm enjoying it much less. Some of what I'm doing is interesting, but teaching the ACT to high school students sucks big donkey balls.
In the spring, we're going to have classes six days a week. I'm stressed out just thinking about it. I need a massage and a vacation.
I hope K doesn't change her mind about letting me keep the house. I hope she doesn't decide to raise the rent. Rents have quadrupled in the parts of town that are liveable. And even though we dodged a bullet in the flood, I'm still a bit worried about mold.
The car is great. Getting it licensed in Missouri is proving to be a big pain in the ass. I'm scared I'm going to wreck it in the insane traffic around here. But it's great. There's this little built-in tool kit, each tool in its special slot, attached to the inside of the trunk lid. On the dash, there's a gauge that tells you how many miles per gallon you're getting at any particular moment. It's a good-looking, good-driving car. I'm happy with it.
I wish I could go home right now, today. I'm working almost as hard as I would be in law school and I'm enjoying it much less. Some of what I'm doing is interesting, but teaching the ACT to high school students sucks big donkey balls.
In the spring, we're going to have classes six days a week. I'm stressed out just thinking about it. I need a massage and a vacation.
I hope K doesn't change her mind about letting me keep the house. I hope she doesn't decide to raise the rent. Rents have quadrupled in the parts of town that are liveable. And even though we dodged a bullet in the flood, I'm still a bit worried about mold.
The car is great. Getting it licensed in Missouri is proving to be a big pain in the ass. I'm scared I'm going to wreck it in the insane traffic around here. But it's great. There's this little built-in tool kit, each tool in its special slot, attached to the inside of the trunk lid. On the dash, there's a gauge that tells you how many miles per gallon you're getting at any particular moment. It's a good-looking, good-driving car. I'm happy with it.
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