I've been sick with a bad cold and busy and tired, but nevertheless I dragged my butt out of the house last night to see and hear the Morning 40 play Le Bon Temps. It was so crowded that at first I couldn't get in the building. Girls were standing and dancing on the benches by the wall, and everyone was packed in, smoking, drinking and bopping around. I saw Chuck and Eddie from my old neighborhood. I didn't stay too long, but I was there long enough to hear the whole personal hygiene subset and "Sorry Mom." They sounded good. It was just like old times, only better because it meant more.
I needed that. Earlier in the evening I was talking to Mr. M on the phone, and I realized I sounded like I was falling apart. I'm not really in as bad shape as I sounded, but I am stressed, and I have been having a lot of bad dreams. Despite how good the show made me feel last night, I still went to bed and had a dream about catching a burglar in my house. I acted all tough and grabbed him by the hair and dragged him outside and kicked him out, but he just laughed at me and demonstrated that he could easily open the gate and get back inside anytime he wanted.
It's about feeling vulnerable. I've been feeling more aware of mortality and the speed of time passing and the cruel capriciousness of life. You can't be safe and you can't be sure of anything. But you can appreciate and cherish the people and things you love, and wholeheartedly enjoy the good things while they last. I want to appreciate what I have when I have it, not wait till I've lost it.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Chocolate city
I've been pretty sympathetic to Mayor Nagin through this whole mess, and I'm even sympathetic to what I think he was trying to say in his MLK Day speech. But at best he showed clumsy political skills in pissing off both blacks and whites in New Orleans.
In the meantime, Wynton Marsalis, of all people, made the speech that needed to be made:
Um, the link-making function doesn't seem to be funtioning, but it's at http://www2.tulane.edu/marsalis011606.cfm
In the meantime, Wynton Marsalis, of all people, made the speech that needed to be made:
Um, the link-making function doesn't seem to be funtioning, but it's at http://www2.tulane.edu/marsalis011606.cfm
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Friday the 13th, and the end of my first week back at school
Yesterday I unintentionally found myself driving through Lakeview. I don't know what to say--it's bad. Blocks and blocks of newish upper-middle-class suburban-style homes, every one of them gutted and abandoned. You can see the water-line marks at around the second story.
All over town, people have spray-painted messages on moldy refrigerators and abandoned buildings, from "NOPD Beat Me Down" to "Rest in Peace, Sweet Kitty." An entire block of apartments across the street from the seminary on Carrolton is burnt to the ground.
Last night there was a big house fire about two blocks from my house, with three or four fire trucks on the scene and big billows of smoke floating over the neighborhood. It seemed like it took a long time to put it out.
Today I drove by to see what was left--the back of a camelback was burnt to a crisp, but people were sitting on the stoop in front of the house.
And among this, I'm studying and going to class. But I like it. I really like law school. I love my professors. It's the being a lawyer and paying off my student loan that concerns me.
Most of my fellow students are much younger than me, and most are brand new to New Orleans. There's a group who seem to be having a great time discovering the music and club scene. They've been to see the Rebirth and the Maple Leaf and the Soul Rebels at Le Bon Temps. Part of me feels crotchety and snotty and possibly kind of bitter listening to them--oh, you think you know about New Orleans music and clubs, clueless young whippersnappers? But I'm also so happy to know all that still exists to be discovered.
I myself went out to hear the Plowboys last night. They were in fine form, and it was good to see Dave Clements smiling face and that blonde girl who goes to all their shows and dances by herself. I was going to see Ryan Scully tonight, but I got there at about a quarter to eleven and there was no sign of him, and I'm too wiped out to sit around and drink for an hour and wait for him to start. So for now it's enough to know that he's alive and well and present in New Orleans. And the full Morning 40 Federation are playing a week from tonight.
For awhile I was in a deep lonely funk (actually that's been one of the main features of my post-Katrina experience) missing my friends and Mr. M. But Mr. & Mrs K are coming over for dinner tomorrow and Mr. A has emerged from isolation, and I'm starting to make friends with a couple of my fellow students. And there's always Hank and Miss P and work, work, work.
My relationship with my parents is going through a rocky phase, but that's a story for another day...
All over town, people have spray-painted messages on moldy refrigerators and abandoned buildings, from "NOPD Beat Me Down" to "Rest in Peace, Sweet Kitty." An entire block of apartments across the street from the seminary on Carrolton is burnt to the ground.
Last night there was a big house fire about two blocks from my house, with three or four fire trucks on the scene and big billows of smoke floating over the neighborhood. It seemed like it took a long time to put it out.
Today I drove by to see what was left--the back of a camelback was burnt to a crisp, but people were sitting on the stoop in front of the house.
And among this, I'm studying and going to class. But I like it. I really like law school. I love my professors. It's the being a lawyer and paying off my student loan that concerns me.
Most of my fellow students are much younger than me, and most are brand new to New Orleans. There's a group who seem to be having a great time discovering the music and club scene. They've been to see the Rebirth and the Maple Leaf and the Soul Rebels at Le Bon Temps. Part of me feels crotchety and snotty and possibly kind of bitter listening to them--oh, you think you know about New Orleans music and clubs, clueless young whippersnappers? But I'm also so happy to know all that still exists to be discovered.
I myself went out to hear the Plowboys last night. They were in fine form, and it was good to see Dave Clements smiling face and that blonde girl who goes to all their shows and dances by herself. I was going to see Ryan Scully tonight, but I got there at about a quarter to eleven and there was no sign of him, and I'm too wiped out to sit around and drink for an hour and wait for him to start. So for now it's enough to know that he's alive and well and present in New Orleans. And the full Morning 40 Federation are playing a week from tonight.
For awhile I was in a deep lonely funk (actually that's been one of the main features of my post-Katrina experience) missing my friends and Mr. M. But Mr. & Mrs K are coming over for dinner tomorrow and Mr. A has emerged from isolation, and I'm starting to make friends with a couple of my fellow students. And there's always Hank and Miss P and work, work, work.
My relationship with my parents is going through a rocky phase, but that's a story for another day...
Friday, January 13, 2006
Bush
President Bush visited the least-damaged neighborhood in town, and said how well New Orleans is recovering. Don't believe it for a second. Two-thirds of the city is a moldy, decaying, deserted wreck; and there's not much in the way of big, visible recovery efforts.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Here I am
First of all, let me say that I had a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful time with Mr. M. It just works with him, we seem to go together very nicely, despite the trauma and drama and difficulties and obstacles working against us. It's hard to see him suffer, and to see him aging on fast forward. And my own romance-induced insecurities raised made a little appearance and almost caused a junior spatlet. But he was very kind and good to me and sweet and funny.
So I have stopped second-guessing my feelings for him. I've dated to the point of exhaustion and I know how rare this is and I love him. That doesn't guarantee everything's going to work out. But he's the one I want, or I'll take old-maidhood.
No sooner did I get home, though, than my dad called and wanted me to come get Hank and Miss P. Which I did. Now they are both back with me and seem happy to be here. They both doubled in size during their suburban sojourn.
And now school is upon me. I have homework today and classes tomorrow. It's already having the desired effect of keeping me too busy to notice the condition of the city around me. I want to be a good correspondent on post-Katrina life in New Orleans, but I may barely be a correspondent at all.
So I have stopped second-guessing my feelings for him. I've dated to the point of exhaustion and I know how rare this is and I love him. That doesn't guarantee everything's going to work out. But he's the one I want, or I'll take old-maidhood.
No sooner did I get home, though, than my dad called and wanted me to come get Hank and Miss P. Which I did. Now they are both back with me and seem happy to be here. They both doubled in size during their suburban sojourn.
And now school is upon me. I have homework today and classes tomorrow. It's already having the desired effect of keeping me too busy to notice the condition of the city around me. I want to be a good correspondent on post-Katrina life in New Orleans, but I may barely be a correspondent at all.
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