November 27th, 2005

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

These Days

Stark, opposing thoughts, emotions, inclinations.

We lost power again last night. I watched the beautiful green glow of the exploding transformer station out of the window, then, "Vooooom," — blackness. Fumbling yet again in the dark for the lighter and candles.

Ben and I watched DVDs on the laptop in bed. Using up one computer's battery, then switching to another.

I woke up this morning. The power was on. I went to pee. The power had gone off again.

We're losing a lot of work. It's getting expensive to be here without the means to earn our little living.

A few hours ago, I was toying with the idea of getting in the car and driving to Savannah, just to see what it's like.

And all that said thought implies.

We're growing weary of the complications and ugly dysfunction of this post-Katrina New Orleans. Hell, this city hardly ran well on the best of days before the storm.

Then I was sitting on the back deck, quietly reading my book, when the drifting sounds of a calliope doing warm-up scales floated down the Mississippi from the French Quarter.

The music began to play. Ragtime. Circus music.

I haven't heard that calliope since before the storm.

I put down my book and closed my eyes, enjoying the sun, the warm breeze, and the sounds of the past floating through my destroyed garden and up to the balcony.

And for a moment, there was no where I wanted to be but just there, in the warm November sun, listening to the French Quarter calliope come down the river.