What I am thinking about...
So I have stayed away from leaping into the volley of 'the situation in New Orleans is fucked up' for the most part. I have read and listened to a dearth of viewpoints and kept my own until today. Part of me thinks it's because I don't know how to deal with it, another part just wants to do more but there is this rather occluded part of me that is screaming in grief I never expected. I shall explain.
I can't find mathanwy.
It really is just that simple.
When we agreed to disagree back in November I was not expecting for him to leave. I was not expecting his explanation that he loved me but didn't deserve me; that he was a right coward and little more than a street rat undeserving of beauty, security and love. I was hysterical at first then angry which ebbed to a slow simmer until I managed to set it aside and 'get on with my life' if you will.
Time passed and then the calls began.
The first couple I saw and didn't answer, since back then I made it a point not to answer numbers I did not recognize. There was no message so I thought nothing of them. November passed and December began I worried but with no way of contacting him I set it aside. I missed him, like a piece of me gone missing, covered up with the mud of platitudes and the poems of Millay (...Some nights of apprehension and hot weeping, I will confess; but that's permitted me; Day dried my eyes...). Only to remember him with Neruda's 'Poema Veinte. Then in the middle of December he began leaving me messages, apologies and wishes to make amends but as he was living on the streets, by desire and design, there was no way for me to contact him back. I kept missing them and then, in an effort to bridge the gap I called one of the 'unrecognized numbers' on my called ID that corresponded with the timestamp of his voicemail. It was a pay phone on Bourbon Street.
As the holidays passed the missed calls went away. Life has a good way of distracting you when you are not ready to think about some things, I suppose in hindsight I am grateful for the halcyon. I didn't realize it how long it had been since I had honestly dated until the beginning of the summer when I noticed how not happy I am when I don't feel romantically loved. Funny that. In truth it took me another three months to get around to it, even now it's a fragile trepidacious thing.
Still there is this unresolved part of me, a loose end not tied -- that I am not even sure I want to tie that wishes I could just find pull mathanwy out of whatever mire he submerged himself in and make it all better. Now with Hurricane Katrina and knowing him as I have I wonder if it is really much too late, I am certain in the very core of me that he is still there, yet between his nihilistic tendencies and criminal inclination I know little good could spring from it even if I fervently hope otherwise. Love is strange like that.
So if I come across as too sympathetic to those in the febrile mayhem of New Orleans I have good reason. If I hope that the military hesitates before firing on armed civilians, looting or otherwise, it is more than a general humanitarian wish. Beyond my love affair with the Crescent City and a desire to see it survive and thrive, there is someone there I need to find. I am not ready for goodbyes just yet -- who knows if I ever will be. I'd like to just know he is okay.
It really is just that simple.
He said:
As I write this, the remains of New Orleans are coming under military occupation -- which, perhaps, should have happened four days ago. If there had been efficient and swift response then, surely the shoot to kill orders that have been purportedly issued would not now be necessary -- and I firmly believe they ARE necessary. In the face of the devolution of civilization, the only response is overwhelming force. All of civilization is held together by the fear that there is something bigger than you, with a larger stick, that will smack you down. With the collapse of authority, no one is wielding the stick in New Orleans. It is time to return, and come bearing that stick.
More people will die before something called normalcy is restored. That's the sad truth.
I replied:
I find your statement infuriating. This is why.
Days of drowning, dehydration and starvation unhinge even the most rational of people. Losing your loved ones or worse having to watch them die would give just about anyone the need to grieve and rage. Tack onto that losing your home and all you own with no sign of recovery in sight invites the soul-killing realization that one has nothing else to lose.
So three days later someone shows up and starts telling you what to do; rustling you up like so much unwanted cattle. In a city known for it's buoyant joie de vivre despite the poverty level, crime, orphans, sex trade, illness, blight and death -- if they didn't raise up for collective or personal ends I would be surprised.
After all it's not like the world gave much of a fuck a fortnight ago.
I was going to quip that the girls getting raped by grown men in the Superdome certainly have the fear that something bigger than them with a larger stick will smack them down -- then I realized how fucked up that sounds.
The grand humanitarian effort is mobilized with much pomp and press coverage. Fortify this with blaring announcements that resistance if futile and threats will be put down without hesitation.
Easy to resort to massive brute force when the people won't listen.
It's easy to shoot first and ask questions later.
'They' are armed, who cares if they are starving and desperate? If they spit on the help that shows up a day late and a dollar short they deserve to be shot on sight. How dare they! They should just be grateful that we all showed up to help them in a wave of 'we really care' charity. Right?
Let the good times roll indeed.
I can't find mathanwy.
It really is just that simple.
When we agreed to disagree back in November I was not expecting for him to leave. I was not expecting his explanation that he loved me but didn't deserve me; that he was a right coward and little more than a street rat undeserving of beauty, security and love. I was hysterical at first then angry which ebbed to a slow simmer until I managed to set it aside and 'get on with my life' if you will.
Time passed and then the calls began.
The first couple I saw and didn't answer, since back then I made it a point not to answer numbers I did not recognize. There was no message so I thought nothing of them. November passed and December began I worried but with no way of contacting him I set it aside. I missed him, like a piece of me gone missing, covered up with the mud of platitudes and the poems of Millay (...Some nights of apprehension and hot weeping, I will confess; but that's permitted me; Day dried my eyes...). Only to remember him with Neruda's 'Poema Veinte. Then in the middle of December he began leaving me messages, apologies and wishes to make amends but as he was living on the streets, by desire and design, there was no way for me to contact him back. I kept missing them and then, in an effort to bridge the gap I called one of the 'unrecognized numbers' on my called ID that corresponded with the timestamp of his voicemail. It was a pay phone on Bourbon Street.
As the holidays passed the missed calls went away. Life has a good way of distracting you when you are not ready to think about some things, I suppose in hindsight I am grateful for the halcyon. I didn't realize it how long it had been since I had honestly dated until the beginning of the summer when I noticed how not happy I am when I don't feel romantically loved. Funny that. In truth it took me another three months to get around to it, even now it's a fragile trepidacious thing.
Still there is this unresolved part of me, a loose end not tied -- that I am not even sure I want to tie that wishes I could just find pull mathanwy out of whatever mire he submerged himself in and make it all better. Now with Hurricane Katrina and knowing him as I have I wonder if it is really much too late, I am certain in the very core of me that he is still there, yet between his nihilistic tendencies and criminal inclination I know little good could spring from it even if I fervently hope otherwise. Love is strange like that.
So if I come across as too sympathetic to those in the febrile mayhem of New Orleans I have good reason. If I hope that the military hesitates before firing on armed civilians, looting or otherwise, it is more than a general humanitarian wish. Beyond my love affair with the Crescent City and a desire to see it survive and thrive, there is someone there I need to find. I am not ready for goodbyes just yet -- who knows if I ever will be. I'd like to just know he is okay.
It really is just that simple.
He said:
As I write this, the remains of New Orleans are coming under military occupation -- which, perhaps, should have happened four days ago. If there had been efficient and swift response then, surely the shoot to kill orders that have been purportedly issued would not now be necessary -- and I firmly believe they ARE necessary. In the face of the devolution of civilization, the only response is overwhelming force. All of civilization is held together by the fear that there is something bigger than you, with a larger stick, that will smack you down. With the collapse of authority, no one is wielding the stick in New Orleans. It is time to return, and come bearing that stick.
More people will die before something called normalcy is restored. That's the sad truth.
I replied:
I find your statement infuriating. This is why.
Days of drowning, dehydration and starvation unhinge even the most rational of people. Losing your loved ones or worse having to watch them die would give just about anyone the need to grieve and rage. Tack onto that losing your home and all you own with no sign of recovery in sight invites the soul-killing realization that one has nothing else to lose.
So three days later someone shows up and starts telling you what to do; rustling you up like so much unwanted cattle. In a city known for it's buoyant joie de vivre despite the poverty level, crime, orphans, sex trade, illness, blight and death -- if they didn't raise up for collective or personal ends I would be surprised.
After all it's not like the world gave much of a fuck a fortnight ago.
I was going to quip that the girls getting raped by grown men in the Superdome certainly have the fear that something bigger than them with a larger stick will smack them down -- then I realized how fucked up that sounds.
The grand humanitarian effort is mobilized with much pomp and press coverage. Fortify this with blaring announcements that resistance if futile and threats will be put down without hesitation.
Easy to resort to massive brute force when the people won't listen.
It's easy to shoot first and ask questions later.
'They' are armed, who cares if they are starving and desperate? If they spit on the help that shows up a day late and a dollar short they deserve to be shot on sight. How dare they! They should just be grateful that we all showed up to help them in a wave of 'we really care' charity. Right?
Let the good times roll indeed.