Lurve and early T-givins.
Across The Canal.
Location.
1 : The Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans, Louisiana
2 : The area of Lower 9th east of the St. Claude and Claiborne Ave Industrial Canal bridges.
http://maps.google.com/maps?q=lower%20ninth%20ward&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&sa=N&tab=wl
* hey! I can see my house!
Get it right!
Sigh. I am truly amazed how many people I speak with don't know this, how many ask me, "..across what canal?"
No wonder it looks the way it does around here.
I love where I am living now. I love it. Totally, truly, LOVE. I love my low-ass-ceilinged Hobbit house. I love 99.5% of my housemates (not too shabby a stat considering the recent past). I love the weird little old landlord. I love the neighbors. I love the empty, abandoned school across the street where we walk the dogs and play on the spinny thing in the recess area. I love the levee half a block away. I call our little end-of-the-block The Compound.
I love sprawling on the funky, cushy sofa of a quiet, rainy eve, covered in dogs and watching Law & Order after Law & Order after Law & Order.
I love being back across the canal. But it's sad.
I walked around today, to the old corner store (rebuilt but different owners) where I used to go for ghetto Chinese food (it's an actual cuisine here. really), past houses where friends of mine used to live, all boarded up and empty, stripped clean of meters and anything useful to other houses. Up to Caffin Blvd where the old Walgreens is now the beginnings of a Presbyterian church. It's all folding chairs and drywall in there. I wanted to go in and offer to help paint. Outside in the parking lot, there was a little old lady sitting in a truck onto which were hung several handmade Xmas wreaths decorated all differently and colorful. I want to buy one from her, obviously proceeds going towards the building of her church.
I couldn't make myself cross the street. I wanted to walk up Caffin, pass by Fats Domino's house, cross Galvez, pass the school, head up Tonti to my old house. Based on what St. Claude looked like, I couldn't even imagine what lay in store on the side streets. There is really nothing there anymore. I wanted to see if that really ugly old stray dog was still there, the one that looked like a pig. I wanted to see if the Blue store (with the good sammiches) or the Red store (with the awesome Yat-Ca-Mein) was still open, or re-opened. I couldn't do it. I just stood there on the corner of St. Claude and cried.
The next time some fucking misguided, do-gooding, ill-informed polititian rambles on about how much "progress" this city is making, I'm going to track their slimy fucking snail trail down and beat their head in with a floor board from one of those non-houses. Don't tell me we are making progress. You can still see the water lines on some of the buildings. The ones that are high enough, that is. Don't even bother looking on houses that are less than like 12 feet high. I found one on the school across the street at the bottom of the window sills... on the second floor. In some places, you can still smell The Katrina Smell. Faintly, but it's there. It's not some other smell. There's nothing like that smell but That Smell. There are a couple of people out working on houses. But not nearly as many as there are empty houses. I got so angry thinking about how seriously many people - our residents, our neighbors - have really forgotten about the Lower Ninth. I thought about what the 'hood looked like before August of 05. I thought about how people in town are so bitter, so angry. How people around here are just as friendly to passersby, holding-the-door-open friendly, as they were before... With so much less "Progress", interest, attention. Knowing the city has turned its back on this 'hood, this embarassment, this eyesore... And deciding to not become embittered assholes about it. Refusing to allow this crap to change the way it's always been 'round here. These were my thoughts, as I just stood there on St. Claude & Caffin, crying, not able to walk further, not quite wanting to give up and head back to Jourdan.
I'll try it again. Maybe I'll make it all the way to the old place (been an empty lot for some time now. Katrina turned it into a pile of sticks. We fished stuff out of the pile for a while, then just gave up) around Yule time. Maybe New Year's.
So I headed back. Several people wished me good night, good afternoon. Smiled at me walking my silly dog in his sweater cause it's cold. Back up towards the Discount Zone, some guys who were hanging out on some concrete steps (that used to be the front stairs to a now long-gone house) asked me if they knew me. Turns out, they actually remembered me from when I was living with Sissy on Lamanche. I was "tattoo lady". Yeah. That was me. One of them asked me why I was crying, and I told him. He said, "Yeah, well, you'll make it over there someday. Welcome back Across The Canal anyway. Glad you're back to the neighborhood."
Believe me. So am I.
Location.
1 : The Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans, Louisiana
2 : The area of Lower 9th east of the St. Claude and Claiborne Ave Industrial Canal bridges.
http://maps.google.com/maps?q=lower%20ninth%20ward&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&sa=N&tab=wl
* hey! I can see my house!
Get it right!
Sigh. I am truly amazed how many people I speak with don't know this, how many ask me, "..across what canal?"
No wonder it looks the way it does around here.
I love where I am living now. I love it. Totally, truly, LOVE. I love my low-ass-ceilinged Hobbit house. I love 99.5% of my housemates (not too shabby a stat considering the recent past). I love the weird little old landlord. I love the neighbors. I love the empty, abandoned school across the street where we walk the dogs and play on the spinny thing in the recess area. I love the levee half a block away. I call our little end-of-the-block The Compound.
I love sprawling on the funky, cushy sofa of a quiet, rainy eve, covered in dogs and watching Law & Order after Law & Order after Law & Order.
I love being back across the canal. But it's sad.
I walked around today, to the old corner store (rebuilt but different owners) where I used to go for ghetto Chinese food (it's an actual cuisine here. really), past houses where friends of mine used to live, all boarded up and empty, stripped clean of meters and anything useful to other houses. Up to Caffin Blvd where the old Walgreens is now the beginnings of a Presbyterian church. It's all folding chairs and drywall in there. I wanted to go in and offer to help paint. Outside in the parking lot, there was a little old lady sitting in a truck onto which were hung several handmade Xmas wreaths decorated all differently and colorful. I want to buy one from her, obviously proceeds going towards the building of her church.
I couldn't make myself cross the street. I wanted to walk up Caffin, pass by Fats Domino's house, cross Galvez, pass the school, head up Tonti to my old house. Based on what St. Claude looked like, I couldn't even imagine what lay in store on the side streets. There is really nothing there anymore. I wanted to see if that really ugly old stray dog was still there, the one that looked like a pig. I wanted to see if the Blue store (with the good sammiches) or the Red store (with the awesome Yat-Ca-Mein) was still open, or re-opened. I couldn't do it. I just stood there on the corner of St. Claude and cried.
The next time some fucking misguided, do-gooding, ill-informed polititian rambles on about how much "progress" this city is making, I'm going to track their slimy fucking snail trail down and beat their head in with a floor board from one of those non-houses. Don't tell me we are making progress. You can still see the water lines on some of the buildings. The ones that are high enough, that is. Don't even bother looking on houses that are less than like 12 feet high. I found one on the school across the street at the bottom of the window sills... on the second floor. In some places, you can still smell The Katrina Smell. Faintly, but it's there. It's not some other smell. There's nothing like that smell but That Smell. There are a couple of people out working on houses. But not nearly as many as there are empty houses. I got so angry thinking about how seriously many people - our residents, our neighbors - have really forgotten about the Lower Ninth. I thought about what the 'hood looked like before August of 05. I thought about how people in town are so bitter, so angry. How people around here are just as friendly to passersby, holding-the-door-open friendly, as they were before... With so much less "Progress", interest, attention. Knowing the city has turned its back on this 'hood, this embarassment, this eyesore... And deciding to not become embittered assholes about it. Refusing to allow this crap to change the way it's always been 'round here. These were my thoughts, as I just stood there on St. Claude & Caffin, crying, not able to walk further, not quite wanting to give up and head back to Jourdan.
I'll try it again. Maybe I'll make it all the way to the old place (been an empty lot for some time now. Katrina turned it into a pile of sticks. We fished stuff out of the pile for a while, then just gave up) around Yule time. Maybe New Year's.
So I headed back. Several people wished me good night, good afternoon. Smiled at me walking my silly dog in his sweater cause it's cold. Back up towards the Discount Zone, some guys who were hanging out on some concrete steps (that used to be the front stairs to a now long-gone house) asked me if they knew me. Turns out, they actually remembered me from when I was living with Sissy on Lamanche. I was "tattoo lady". Yeah. That was me. One of them asked me why I was crying, and I told him. He said, "Yeah, well, you'll make it over there someday. Welcome back Across The Canal anyway. Glad you're back to the neighborhood."
Believe me. So am I.