View current page
...more recent posts
In New Orleans
Under an indigo sky Sunday at sunrise I followed glowing white jet trails out of the Shenandoah Valley with the eyelash of a crescent moon and a purple pink and orange cumulus finger pointing the way South. I did not need a map with that kind of help.
I left the big house in Little Washington about five-thirty a.m., drove a good bit, marveled at the deep snow near Bristol, Tennessee, and slept eight hours in a fancy businessman's motel between Birmingham and Tuscaloosa. I saw the first sign for New Orleans about 7:30 this morning, Monday.
I stopped near Meridian, Mississippi at a Waffle House and had eggs and bacon and grits with the decidedly southern, somewhat creole, morning crew, who were all in bad moods. My waitress was wearing a Santa's hat and she checked both dessert cases before breaking the disappointing news to me that I wouldn't be leaving with my to-go request for chocolate cream pie.
Nobody called me baby but that's ok because instead of that I had a real nice conversation with the woman at the gas station next door and she waited a respectful amount of time before explaining to me how to reset the gas pump if I wanted the gas to be pumped faster than it was, which was at a rate about equal to one cent per second. "But you could probably get out of here by noon if you just want to wait it out," she said. I went out and reset the pump and came back in and bought two real-life looking snakes, which she said were a real popular item.
I would not describe the general mood in New Orleans as happy, Christmas around here in the ghetto only brings out the reality of life's constraints on those with lesser amounts of disposable income. But poor kids see all the same shit on TV and want it just as badly as rich kids, and so by these last few days before the big day, parents have had it with demands they cannot meet and might be heard to bark, "No, you is not getting that goddamn bicycle so quit buggin Santa 'bout it cuz he can't hear you, and I'm sick of hearin you."
My neighbor's friend got killed recently on the I-10 and two neighbor men have had serious medical issues in my absence. One broke both his arms and "has to have his wife wipe his ass," and the other guy might have more cancer than a person would like.
The new streetcar line up Canal is not running but is more or less finished and they have also repaved the street itself, which is a very good thing because all the construction equipment had torn it up rather thoroughly.
There was a nice young man named Daniel cutting down the trees on the side of my house when I arrived. I knew it was going to happen eventually, the two big trees up near the front were great shade providers but were actually on the Pentecostal's property. The mulberry and the elderberry trees, which were inside my line were also cut down but I'm not feeling it. Not to say that I won't play the hey you cut down my fuckin tree card later on. Perhaps on a day I feel the need to direct my enmity towards a religious organization. The church is getting ready to put up a fence. Mr. Clarence bought that little square of land to my left and is putting up a fence on that side too. Better Mr. Clarence got it than somebody else, I think.
Tomorrow I might drive to Austin or I might drive to Dallas or I might just lay about here and drive to Dallas on the 24th and when laying about is one of the options I would bet on it.