Happy Flipping Thanksgiving

I am very much aware that I have much to be grateful for, but this Thanksgiving finds me on the edge of depression. It didn't help that I woke up this morning to a story on NPR about displaced New Orleans residents missing their food on Thanksgiving. One of the guys they interviewed was clearly bullshitting the interviewer, though. I'd like to say for the record that it is not common practice to eat nutria for Thanksgiving or otherwise in New Orleans. A couple of years ago, I did cook a rabbit for Easter which the brother of the IRMS had shot in his backyard. I felt very down-home coon-ass and a little guilty.

According to the Weather Channel, the expected high temperature today in New Orleans is 77. The expected high temperature here is 47. It snowed last night, but it didn't stick except for a little on the cars. I shouldn't whine, but I am just so weary of the cold and the traffic and the commute and sleeping in a bed that isn't mine. I mostly like the work I'm doing except for sometimes when I feel like I'm screwed something up and I get no feedback whatsoever. But four hours of commuting a day is too much.

People have been very sweet to me, but I'm lonely for the people who really know me. I miss privacy. I'm worried about money. And I have a paranoid fear that MM is bailing on me again. I do hope that it's only that. You'd think I'd be immune to him by now.

Johnny Fasullo, WWOZ's Ragin Cajun, died last week. When I first moved down there, his voice on the radio was one of the things that made me feel I was somewhere strange and exotic. I could barely understand what he was saying. His show was a bit cheesy--the guy who came on after him played better Cajun music. But he was a sweety and a character, Catholic and socially stunted and devoted to his mama, from across the pond in Marrero.

Also, I read that Irvin Mayfield's dad died in the flood. But I ought not make a list of things to feel sad about.