A blessing and a curse
It's funny/odd how differently people react to psychotic breakdowns. Some get twitchy and nervous, skin crawly and exhausted. Some, boil over with pent up anger and go from room to room yelling at everything. Such has been my day.
The rain, oh my god. The rain has not stopped for three days. We are eating toaster crumbs in here. The walls are caving in. The animals are getting all eeshy, and there's a palpable smell permeating from some eerie source. Altogether, frighteningly reminiscent of today's honoree.
Ah, the K-bitch.
Five years, WTF. It feels like forever ago, almost. That is, if I don't walk outside, or turn on the news, or go on the Internet, or talk to anybody. And it's funny, how long ago it can feel, when you can't even turn on a preseason game without hearing at least twice, the phrase "the devastation of Katrina" or some such non-football related crap.
We won the friggin Super Bowl, you know...
Oil spill? Katrina.
Tom Porteous? Vince Marinello? Katrina.
To the Elsewherer looking in, Katrina seems to be the answer to everything around here. Of course around here, we just keep trying to find some answers.
Yes, New Orleans is "back in business". We have been for some time. So long as you stick to the better populated areas where there's plenty of electricity, there is very little chance you will be crushed underneath twenty tons of crumbling building. So long as you are not stupid enough to drunkenly stampede around as though you believe that New Orleans is just some big, wonderland amusement park erected solely for your enjoyment and none of the wax statues can really hurt you, it is unlikely you will become the twenty-nine hundred and somethingth victim of violent crime this year. Yes, you can drink the water. Yes, you can eat the seafood. I do.
But further progress has been slow-ward progress these days. We crescendoed, we ebbed. Settlements trickle in, there are spurts of rebuilding in little patches here and there. Protesters protest policies as quickly as policy makers make new ones. Bales of businesses spring up, half of them die off in their first year, the rest become stable enough to sustain themselves. It's kind of like watching baby sea turtles hatch.
And I kind of feel just as helpless as if I were watching those sea turtles scramble to the big water. There's really no help I can offer right now, no sustenance, no gentle nudge forward. I'm struggling to stay afloat myself. I'm kind of cranky.
Is it end-of-summer ennui that's got me? Mabon can be a real motherfucker that way (get it?? lol). Or maybe I'm finally showing signs of my embitterment. I'm more snarky; less social, if such a thing is even possible. Of course there have been factors. My landlord and my upstairs neighbor are both a couple of infuriating psychotics, hell bent on driving me up the clock tower. No really, ask anyone. My workplace has been overrun by crack addicts and hustlers. And the weather is just freaking ridiculous.
But when I really look around and assess my five-year amassment of goods and experiences... heh. Yeah, no MAC-10. So, no clock tower. And also... no regrets. Wow, it's weird to read myself type that. And of course, I'd love to just get my hands on that butterfly that flapped its damned wings in Tokyo back in August '05... But all things considered, I think I can see it from here. I think a lot of other neighbors can see it, too. So okay, this has been one dead-ass freaking summer. But sometimes slow is good. Sometimes slow helps turn the volume down.
Me, I'd rather have the money.
But for now, after 1826 days of treading water, I could get into some calm seas for a little.
It certainly does not mean we can't still boogie down.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=diiL9bqvalo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQObWW06VAM
Also, Happy birthday to John McCain (my favie Republican), ...and to Michael Jackson. Still miss you, Jacko. I hope the man in the mirror is really, really happy in heaven.
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