Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Re-entry has been a little rough all around, and I’m going to blame my mental coma on the heat. We were spoiled in Europe, where it’s basically still spring, lovely, cool and beautiful. We returned to full on NOLA- 97 degrees all week, and we won’t even discuss the humidity or drought.

In life’s Pinky and the Brain continuum, I’m afraid this has been a solidly “Pinky” week, where I make leaps of judgement that seem very logical…to me…at the time…as long as you don’t look too closely…

That aside, there have been two things that have taken a whole lot of mental space that I really should’ve picked up sooner than I did:
Read the rest of this entry »

Hey y’all…

So yeah, been a bad girl and haven’t been posting. Again. I know I promised to be better but I at least wanted to pop in, make sure you knew I was still here and still dedicated… and that I was going to have to step out for a few more weeks. It’s for good stuff all around, but other than a few very brief posts I have auto scheduled, I’m going to be MIA for a few weeks while I’m away both physically and mentally.

Things I’ve learned during my transition period so far:

1. I have a metric crapton of pictures. I’ve kindly been invited to do a show of some of my cemetery photographs in a local cafe, which is totally flattering and wonderful, even though it’s made me face the depth of my photographic illness. I’ve discovered that I have several (like 5) thousand cemetery photos taken over the last decade, most of which haven’t been looked at in a long time, many still on film only, and oh, btw, I have no idea how one goes about putting this sort of thing together, so it’s been a really interesting process, but I think we’re getting there, finally.
2. Weird cherry picking process makes me bang my head repeatedly, which isn’t good for concentration I’m actually having to do this bizarre dance with what pics to use and what not to use, because I’m working on (shhhh, top secret! Double pinky swear not to say anything, okay?) a book that involves some of these same photos + some quasi-genealogy, complicating things. But, hey, since when do I do simple?
3. Writing writing not going so well, and drastic measures are called for. Just to be confusing, there’s also the “real” book I’m (theoretically) working on. (Not that you could tell.) I’m starting to reach the panic stage, where I can foresee myself dramatically flinging the bastard into the fireplace flames, drunkenly crying “L’chaim!”

   This sounds far fetched, perhaps and in the particulars I suppose it is- it’s New Orleans in the summer, fer godsakes. There’s no WAY I’m lighting a fire! But in practice, it’s something I’ve done it before. In fact, I have the better part of a pretty good vampiresque parody done that I tossed aside because a) I lost touch with it, and b) panic set in, although, honestly, also playing a part was c)how freaking tired can you get of vampires? They’re everywhere! They weren’t when I started, but by the time I got serious, they were deep into oversaturation territory.

4. Depression/obsession blows like the oil rig that causes it. It is so so SO easy to start reading the horrifying news stories and have a months-long freakout at the bottom of deep dark pit of despair. I’ve been trying to wean myself from the obsession, and it’s not been easy. When we were in NY for 9/11 I watched coverage for months, curled up and miserable on the couch. After Katrina I drove and drove and drove around until I ended up on a shrink’s couch. I cannot afford to do it again, so I’ve got to call for a mental moratorium, even though it sort of seems like cowardice.
5. If I don’t do something about planning this wedding, Charlie will kill me if my sister doesn’t get me first. Ummmm…. pretty self explanatory, really. Though the venue and date are now set at least…which happened just yesterday. I know, I know, I’m a bad bride, but this should not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me, really. It’s hard for me to worry about those kinds of things. It’ll happen, it’ll be fine, it’ll be a party, and that’s that.





So a drastic change of scenery, both internal and external is the ticket. That’s where the stepping out comes in while I take a geographical and mental sabbatical. I’ll be back soonish and will start posting more bits of fiction and suchlike for those who care, and to hold myself accountable if nothing else.

And that’s that. I’ll leave you with one of the photos that I’m on the fence about including before saying hasta luego. I like the perspective and the white against the blue, but not sure if it’s a keeper or not- thoughts or comments welcome as always:

I didn’t want to dwell very much on the situation in the Gulf earlier. Now I find that our friend Craig has done it for me and captured the feeling perfectly:

Stella Got Her Groove Back — just in time to discover she had colon cancer.

I hadn’t realized how much this damn oil situation in the Gulf had been affecting me. Not directly, mind you. But in a more general and more consuming fashion. We thought we had finally killed the loup-garou, but now he’s back — more menacing and more pervasive than ever — and for potentially a much longer while.

Check him out at BeerFoodDude, and in person with the lovely Kim cooking their asses off at the Avenue Pub.

You know, it should have been a phenomenal weekend. Jazzfest. Visitors. Nagin went on the radio to tell us- to “kiss my chocolate buttocks” as he locks the door behind him. Words fail. And yet, all things being equal, it’s just so very HIM. Despite being childish and petty (as per usual) it’s kind of funny, because it reminds us of why we’re so thrilled to have a new Mayor sworn in on Monday!

But no. Everyone is walking around shell shocked in a way that’s reminiscent of Katrina. It’s the same feeling of quasi-helplessness in the face of a manmade screwup. The same wondering how bad the butcher’s bill is going to be when it comes due.

And the same thinking about the lovely things being damaged…possibly irreparably, and the memories you’d made there.

Here’s one of mine.

Ali was only 10 when we took this trip to Grand Isle, which is at the very tip of Louisiana hanging out into the tainted Gulf of Mexico. It was a trip of firsts- her first kite, her first fishing pole, and of course, her first (and to my knowledge only) fish.

The city smelled of oil night before last; now the wind’s blowing in the opposite direction and we’re not being hit with it in town…but of course Grand Isle is a lot closer to the problem and I can’t help but wonder what they’re smelling tonight.

If you’re anywhere in the area and can get involved, CNN has a list of organizations looking for volunteers here.

(oops. I just realized this never got moved out of drafts. Publishing now, though late. Mea Culpea.)

Last week Charlie and I lucked into seats at the Prytania Theater for the big Saints-Vikings game. This was huge. It was the first time the game was being shown at a movie theater in New Orleans and we just happened to show up to watch a movie the night they put the announcement up.

The Prytania is the last single screen, independently owned theater in New Orleans. It rocks. The owner’s always around, wearing his crazy ties and keeping his eye on everything. The balcony is small but cool, and an old organ still sits up front, beside the screen.

They’d decided to open the theater up for a viewing of the big game on the huge screen- for free. They were under the impression that as long as they didn’t charge they weren’t violating any rules, but since then the NFL has stomped on them, which is utterly ridiculous. They’ve hit them with a cease-and- decist order among other things and things aren’t looking good for a repeat for the Superbowl.

At any rate the Prytania hadn’t ever taken as much abuse as it got that night with stomping feet, screaming and running around. The Who Dats shook the walls.

And when they won? forget it.

At that point it was decided we should head down the the French Quarter and see what it was like. Not surprisingly, it was like this:

This place is going to be insane for the next two weeks. More insane, I mean. Come for a visit if you can- the real party’s gonna be here, not in Miami, and surely not in Indy.

(Okay, so Twelfth Night was a couple of weeks ago. I’m catching up now.)

The Phunny Phorty Phellows kick off Carnival season in style- with a streetcar ride, tossing beads as they go. I hadn’t gotten out to see them on their ride before, and was surprised that they don’t set a slow, maximizing sort of pace, but the typical “now you see us, now you don’t” streetcar speed.

There weren’t huge crowds for this one, but they always had people around because drivers on St. Charles Ave would see them, do a quick whip around, get ahead of the streetcar, park, and run over.

I have to say, they looked like they were having a hell of a good time:

I’m working on trying to unravel this mess. Some jackass got into the server and screwed everything up.

The site is red listed everywhere now. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to fix that, but…

Well, I’m working on it.

UPDATE: most of the database has been recovered (the posts if not the categories, keywords, etc etc), and that’s the most important thing. Time for a big drink and bed. All the other stuff will have to wait for now.

I should be doing a big wrapup and commentary about Katrina’s fourth anniversary. I should have spent the day going to remembrances and speeches.

Instead, I went for a walk, which was the sensible thing to do. Much of life in New Orleans is still spent with Katrina at its core- volunteerism, fighting against the bureaucracy and incompetence, and just generally doing our best. Next year, the 5th anniversary, I’m sure we’ll go do something big and powerful to remember.

Today was more quiet and meditative, spent walking with a friend in the bayous and swamps. It’s a wonderful time to do so- flowers are everywhere, banana spiders are spinning their massive webs, bees are buzzing and gators are sunning. Even though there trees brought down by Katrina still liter the grounds of the park, there’s new life- vines cover them, mosses and mushrooms grow and the crickets sing.

It was hard to imagine a better way to spend the day.

[flickr album=72157622178989958 num=15 size=Thumbnail]

jxq9r2adsk

This is just to register for Technorati. Thanks!

Sorry, all. I’m a terrible blogger, a somewhat better mom.

I didn’t even realize the stupid domain had expired, because I was off doing graduation things with/for my daughter, not paying attention to emails and whatall.

But after a minimum of begging and pleading, lunarpages came through and fixed it in short order.

Actual content to come shortly.