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[personal profile] blustocking
I woke up at 10 am today to a Thanksgiving text message from a good friend. It was a nice way to start the day, so I decided to keep that going.

The New Orleans sky was filled with bags of jumbled cotton balls, darkness lurking in the distance. I rode my bike down Decatur, camera slung over my shoulder, down past the moldering hipster stores, past the moldering hipsters, past the tourist shops, past the tourists. I decided to "be a tourist in my own (home)town" and got a sm. black coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde while thinking about Apocalypse vs. Utopia. I took some photos. I wandered over the levee to the river and sat down to watch the gulls, the egrets, the ships and to listen to the tourists complain about being hustled by "where did you get your shoes". Someone should have told them. I sat down on the wooden steps leading to the sandy, lightly littered banks of the Mississippi, soaked in the humidity of November, the slight breeze coming off the muddy water, and I thought of you.

I sat there a long time, long enough to hear "Do You Know What It Means, To Miss New Or-leeeeans" at least five times. I helped an old man who was deaf and mute by taking a photo of him sitting on the steps of the levee. He tried to explain to me why he was there with gestures. He shook his head, seemed sad yet eager, and pointed to the water, then pointed to a high point on the steps. And I think he was referring to Katrina.

I rode home, the opposite direction, taking any street I fancied. Coffee in one hand, the other hand gripping my "Sweet Ride", my pink and purple nightmare with the one working brake, and still I thought of you.

I'm home now, in my lovely little room, listening to the laundry and the rain. I have the back door open and all I can see is green, green, green. The boys are gone. It's just me in this big, quiet house. And I miss my family, but it's ok. I barely have any money, and the bills keep coming, but it's ok. My job, like many jobs in this country right now, is unstable, but it's ok. I've got a million things I want to do today, this month, in my life, but it's ok. Something about this city makes it ok. There's a reason I'm here, and I'm not entirely sure what it is, but I have an idea. All I know is, it's the only place I've been truly comfortable being alone.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

And, please try not to go nuts with the purchasing tomorrow. Plastic and price tags won't save us. It's what you do, who you are, what you say, not what you buy.

(xposted to

Date: 2008-11-28 04:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
this is a great post. and it makes me want to find that kind of place for myself.

May 2010

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