Sure, it's Mardi Gras

But what I really want to say is Harlan T. Bobo is a damn genius. He's so good, he almost makes moving back to Memphis look like an attractive option. For real, look him up, buy his CD, thank me later.

I am abstractly pleased that Mardi Gras is happening and so far it's going well, nothing too bad has happened (that I know of) and the city is full of people spending money. But personally I'm ready to get everyone out of my house and sleep in my own bed again.

C'est levee...

was the theme of the Krewe du Vieux parade tonight. I still love New Orleans, because it has a sense of humor in the worst of times, it knows how to have fun, it has cultcha and Hubig's pies. Tomorrow I'll tell you about the corner store that is the bane of my existence, but here are some pictures from tonight.

God bless Jerry Bruckheimer

Yes, Jerry Bruckheimer. He's producing a movie that was scheduled to be filmed in New Orleans before the hurricane. He looked at other locations after the hurricane, but decided he still wanted New Orleans. They incorporated the hurricane aftermath into the script, and begin filming today. It might be an expensive piece of Hollywood hackery, but it's a great thing for the city.

In other movie news, the Canal Place cinema is finally going to reopen this weekend.

The lower nine

Today I took a ride into the Lower Ninth Ward and Chalmette. There were other people out gawking. The big barge that crashed through the levee has become a bit of a tourist attraction. I didn't photograph the barge, and the pictures I took don't really give a sense of how bad it really is. For one thing, you want to take pictures of things that are recognizable, rather than piles of unidentifiable rubble, which is what half the area has been reduced to. And the other thing is you don't get a sense of how vast this waste is. It's like a bomb dropped. People don't want their homes bull-dozed--it's become a big issue. There are No Bulldozing signs up all over the place. I deeply sympathize with the people who have lost their home and their neighborhood, and all they have. But when your house has been lifted off its foundation and deposited on top of a car, when the walls and the roof have collapsed, I don't think you can do anything but knock it down and haul it away. I don't think you're dealing with reality if you think such a house can or should be saved. And I think I'm coming to the unpopular opinion that the neighorhood should not be rebuilt.

In Chalmette, a the parking lot of an abandoned Wal-Mart is now a FEMA trailer park and another strip-mall lot is now a new dump.

The first four steps of the Katrina 12-Step program:

1. We admitted that we were powerless over Katrina, that our lives had become unmanageable

2. Came to believe that government and insurance companies could restore us to sanity

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the Fashion God Michael Brown as we understood him

4. Made a searching and pointless inventory of our possessions.

For the rest of the steps and the "projected path" of this year's parade, I direct you to http://www.kreweduvieux.org/MdM2006.pdf


P.S. The psychopath emailed me today, as I feared and suspected he would. Of course I am not going to reply. He is free to assume that I changed my email address.

The psychopath

I've got a writing assignment due Monday for my legal research and writing class. When I got burned out on working on it tonight, I decided to take myself to the movies. I actually like to go alone, even on Saturday night. I went to see Match Point, and it was good.

But on the way out I saw the IRMS. The Psychopath. We had an extremely brief conversation confirming that we both are okay after the storm. It should have been painless.

But if I could choose one of my exes to disappear from the face of the earth, or at least to send to some corner of the earth I'd never visit, it would be him. I'm a little bit afraid of him. I honestly do think he's a psychopath, for one thing, no exaggeration. And I'm also so, so ashamed of myself for going out with him past the first date, and for really compromising my integrity for the sake of trying to work things out with him--when I had an aversion for him from the beginning. The whole thing made me doubt my own sanity and judgment and led me to think I was better off staying out of relationships altogether.

All I can say to my credit is that I came to my senses and broke up with him. And that the state of mind I was in that lead me into that mess was largely caused by the fall out of falling out with Mr. M. And now Mr. M is back in my life, and he's a better man by far. It doesn't even make sense to compare them that way, as if the IRMS is good and Mr. M is better. The IRMS is a psychopath and Mr. M is a sweetie pie with integrity. The psychopath often made me cry and rarely made me laugh. The opposite is true of Mr. M, and the tears are over the situation and not something he did to me.

But Mr. M is not actually here, is he? Part of the sting was that the IRMS was with a woman, poor thing, and to whatever extent he still has the power to draw me into his headgames, it's like he's won because he's with someone and I was out on a Saturday night alone.

And it doesn't seem right that a twisted headcase like that is walking around and screwing around and feeling just fine, when Mr. M is sick and alone tonight.

It all fits in rather well with the theme of the movie, come to think of it.

Then I was going to see the Red Stick Ramblers at One Eyed Jacks. It was further depressing to drive into town on deserted, decrepit and destroyed Claiborne Avenue. And then you can't park anywhere near the Quarter, but I guess that's a good sign in a way. But I gave up and came home and I'm going to bed alone just like my dear Mr. M.

P.S. At least I looked good when I ran into the psychopath.

P.P.S. He's a psychopath and he's only months away from graduating from medical school, god help his patients.