It's A Long, Long Road That Has No Turning
I haven't been able to be here lately. It's not that I haven't wanted to, but I've felt incapable of talking about the BP disaster and irresponsible talking about anything else. My mind is full of the images: the hurt in the eyes of people in Grand Isle and Lower St. Bernard and Plaquemines, the ancient innocents mired and dying in filth. The land the way I last saw it, the land the way it must look now. The water, too. I'm reading The End of Oil by Paul Roberts in a last-ditch effort not to give up hope, but it's hard. Chris is proactive. Just as he did after the federal levee failure, he's doing research and trying to figure out how he can use his resources to make some kind of difference. And just as I did after the federal levee failure, I'm taking tranquilizers to keep myself from raging every minute of every day, and I'm losing my appetite and generally becoming useless. Falling apart like I did in 2006-2007 isn't an option; I have more responsibilities now, and I hope a little more resilience. (Plus I'm not hooked on opiates. That helps.) It gets harder and harder to read the news every morning, yet I need to know these things. I wish I could be more like Chris. A little of his bravery has rubbed off on me over the years, but I still have a tendency to take to my bed in times of trouble.
To my garden, too, but in this season of hell (the New Orleans summer, not the new hell) it's hard to do more than the watering and other bare-bones maintenance. I tried on Saturday and got a touch of heat exhaustion. No big deal, just a little dizzy and headachy. The next morning, after OLGC rosary, I stopped by Borders to grab a new copy of From Hell (finally read my old one to death the night before). As I was walking back to my car, one of the handicapped parking space signs slewed drunkenly sideways and clattered over, having simply melted its way out of the stewing asphalt. After that, I felt a little hot.
To my garden, too, but in this season of hell (the New Orleans summer, not the new hell) it's hard to do more than the watering and other bare-bones maintenance. I tried on Saturday and got a touch of heat exhaustion. No big deal, just a little dizzy and headachy. The next morning, after OLGC rosary, I stopped by Borders to grab a new copy of From Hell (finally read my old one to death the night before). As I was walking back to my car, one of the handicapped parking space signs slewed drunkenly sideways and clattered over, having simply melted its way out of the stewing asphalt. After that, I felt a little hot.