August 28th, 2005

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

Impotency: It's Not Just About Penises Any More!

Not that there's a lot one can do about a disaster like Katrina swirling and swooping her way towards New Orleans like some over-zealous Goth girl, but good god DAMN, I feel absolutely useless and impotent, nestled safely in my New York lakehouse cottage.

I spent the morning watching The Hysteria Channel I mean The Weather Channel, which is never a good idea on a nice day. I emailed Ben tons of pre-evacuation instructions for the house, the cats, etc., only to find out he and Pamela left already for Lafayette and All Points Westward.

It's three hours later, they're driving Airline Highway, and they're not even close to the airport yet.

I am nerve-wracked and anxious and pacing and pulling out my hair — it would be easier to actually be in New Orleans, than to be far away. The not-knowing'ness is the sting.

Heard a Bush announcement on CNN that amounted to, "It's really awful when American cities are going to be wiped out, but we have got to stop the TERRISTS in IRAQ! That, followed by a breathlessly orated newsbreak about how there are going to be more security cameras on New York City public transpo vehicles. It's all feeling a bit Orwellian/Doomsdayish right about now, innit?

I urge you to invoke the deity or universal superhero friend of your choice and beg him/her/it to make Katrina's blow as cushy as possible.

I love my city. I love my friends. I love my house. I love my poor, abandoned kitty. I want them all to be safe and intact when and if I can finally make it home.

Ben told me a joke once: "What's the difference between praying in church and praying in a casino? In a casino, you mean it."

Yah, well, mean it now, too.