squat variations
Saturday night I rolled into New Orleans at 9:30, having biked somewhere between 110 and 120 miles over the course of the day, which began in a trailer home 30 miles north of Baton Rouge. I'll bet they're still talking about me there. So I beat the rain and did my first day of over 100 miles, arriving just in time to get directed to Zotz for a benefit show where I met a number of locals. And let me say that people in this town, if nothing else, have a beautiful fashion sense; even the crusties dress in fancy neo-romantic black. That night I slept stretched across three kitchen chairs in the house of a locally well-known guitarist named Roberto, and although I was glad to be out of the elements, decided that was no good for a long-term arrangement. The next day I went back to Zotz and met a few more folks who helped with job suggestions and orientation around free food and whatnot, and got to play with some of the classy old-time jazz musicians who play the streets and cafes in this town. That sort of things sucks me in every time. Before I knew it 7:00 had rolled around, time for free krishna food up the street, and many meetings.
Just before we all headed over there, I ran into some familiar-looking folks, half of whom, it turns out, I'd met before one place or another. They have a squat. They said I could stay for a night.
David and K I knew from The Organization from SUNY Purchase. Hazel I'd met briefly at NCOR. The rest--Julia, Nat, Adam and Sarah--have proven to be of equal quality, although Hazel reminds me of Adam from Bar Harbor, which is confusing because there's already an Adam. But yeah. One night turned into two, then three, and I expect I'll be there again tonight. I'll probably have to find another place to stay by the time they leave town in a day or two, but I'll be happy for something other than a squat by then anyway. It's not that I insist on central heating, but even a woodstove is impracticable here, both for the security of the squat and the lack of burnable wood. Working cookstoves large enough to cook for eight have also been in short supply, so there's been a lot of bread dumpstered from whole foods, and random and sundry, but only last night was there an actual meal--a heavy, spicy Thai coconut soup--and eggs this morning. Where has the time gone? I've been doing yoga again. Monday I wandered around with Julia, who I adore as a traveling companion, since we have the most wonderfully broad conversations at all odd hours and while table-diving and wandering the quarter. Tuesday was an abortive attempt at finding "nature" which devolved into dumpstering and liberation of high quality foods, followed by the State of the Union drinking party at the Iron Rail.
Iron Rail is the local anarchist infoshop, in the same building as Plan B, the community bike shop. In addition to a nice library and free internet, as well as Books 2 Prisoners (oh, right, Monday night, wrote letters, packaged books, and ran into Thea from Ithaca, who was as surprised to see me as I her) acrobatics classes, movie nights, and effigy burnings. Well, occasionally. After drinking a few every time W said "America," "terror," "Iraq," or "freedom," and many a thrown vegetable, a well-dressed member of the collective made a "state of the Iron Rail" address, promising us that the rev(olution) was underway, and that we should act as though nothing was different in order to lull the few remaining captains of industry into a false sense of security. Then W, who had been captured and held in an undisclosed location, was produced and burned. With fireworks. It took the NOPD at least 15 minutes to arrive, and given the prior speech and sheer number of us, their presence was just funny. As they got back in their cars after issuing a verbal warning, David started singing the chorus of "Dusty Old Dust" and within seconds we had a resounding chorus of "so long, it's been good ta know ya!" echoing through the streets. Following that was a mellow screening of "Death of a President," the well-executed BBC mockumentary of the assassination of W and the aftermath.
Today I kept trying to get someone to go explore with me, and no one would, and since I didn't have a key to the squat, I didn't get up the gumption to go myself. Instead I finally started to get the hang of juggling and made an attempt at the fiddle. It's been consistently miserable and grey here, so I don't mind having only been outside once briefly today until the 8:00 meeting at Iron Rail. I'm starting to get an idea of the work I want to do while I'm here, and also know my tentative schedule once I leave:
February 16-18 - Bayou Bedlam contra dance festival in Houston, TX
February 19-21 bike to Austin (at least for two of those days)
February 22-26 - Earth First! 2007 Winter Organizer's Conference in Austin, TX
I'm figuring on the ~450 miles from here to Houston taking 8 days at a very moderate pace, so I'll be leaving by around the 8th, maybe sooner, depending on what else happens. Arriving early wouldn't be the end of the world, since there seems to be a vibrant anarchist community in Houston, judging by a zine I found at Iron Rail.
Tomorrow, however: Yoga in the AM, making postcards, exploring, looking for work. I can't have another indoor day.
Friday: Critical Mass!
Just before we all headed over there, I ran into some familiar-looking folks, half of whom, it turns out, I'd met before one place or another. They have a squat. They said I could stay for a night.
David and K I knew from The Organization from SUNY Purchase. Hazel I'd met briefly at NCOR. The rest--Julia, Nat, Adam and Sarah--have proven to be of equal quality, although Hazel reminds me of Adam from Bar Harbor, which is confusing because there's already an Adam. But yeah. One night turned into two, then three, and I expect I'll be there again tonight. I'll probably have to find another place to stay by the time they leave town in a day or two, but I'll be happy for something other than a squat by then anyway. It's not that I insist on central heating, but even a woodstove is impracticable here, both for the security of the squat and the lack of burnable wood. Working cookstoves large enough to cook for eight have also been in short supply, so there's been a lot of bread dumpstered from whole foods, and random and sundry, but only last night was there an actual meal--a heavy, spicy Thai coconut soup--and eggs this morning. Where has the time gone? I've been doing yoga again. Monday I wandered around with Julia, who I adore as a traveling companion, since we have the most wonderfully broad conversations at all odd hours and while table-diving and wandering the quarter. Tuesday was an abortive attempt at finding "nature" which devolved into dumpstering and liberation of high quality foods, followed by the State of the Union drinking party at the Iron Rail.
Iron Rail is the local anarchist infoshop, in the same building as Plan B, the community bike shop. In addition to a nice library and free internet, as well as Books 2 Prisoners (oh, right, Monday night, wrote letters, packaged books, and ran into Thea from Ithaca, who was as surprised to see me as I her) acrobatics classes, movie nights, and effigy burnings. Well, occasionally. After drinking a few every time W said "America," "terror," "Iraq," or "freedom," and many a thrown vegetable, a well-dressed member of the collective made a "state of the Iron Rail" address, promising us that the rev(olution) was underway, and that we should act as though nothing was different in order to lull the few remaining captains of industry into a false sense of security. Then W, who had been captured and held in an undisclosed location, was produced and burned. With fireworks. It took the NOPD at least 15 minutes to arrive, and given the prior speech and sheer number of us, their presence was just funny. As they got back in their cars after issuing a verbal warning, David started singing the chorus of "Dusty Old Dust" and within seconds we had a resounding chorus of "so long, it's been good ta know ya!" echoing through the streets. Following that was a mellow screening of "Death of a President," the well-executed BBC mockumentary of the assassination of W and the aftermath.
Today I kept trying to get someone to go explore with me, and no one would, and since I didn't have a key to the squat, I didn't get up the gumption to go myself. Instead I finally started to get the hang of juggling and made an attempt at the fiddle. It's been consistently miserable and grey here, so I don't mind having only been outside once briefly today until the 8:00 meeting at Iron Rail. I'm starting to get an idea of the work I want to do while I'm here, and also know my tentative schedule once I leave:
February 16-18 - Bayou Bedlam contra dance festival in Houston, TX
February 19-21 bike to Austin (at least for two of those days)
February 22-26 - Earth First! 2007 Winter Organizer's Conference in Austin, TX
I'm figuring on the ~450 miles from here to Houston taking 8 days at a very moderate pace, so I'll be leaving by around the 8th, maybe sooner, depending on what else happens. Arriving early wouldn't be the end of the world, since there seems to be a vibrant anarchist community in Houston, judging by a zine I found at Iron Rail.
Tomorrow, however: Yoga in the AM, making postcards, exploring, looking for work. I can't have another indoor day.
Friday: Critical Mass!