Take me back to New Orleans, and drop me at my door (I might love you, yeah, but I love me more)
I did not drive to Birmingham tonight because I got out of work and it had been the day from hell and I hadn't eaten and I was pretty sure that a five hour drive would only end in me crashing my car. So I got dinner with nojah who I didn't see much last night and we hung out a bit, and now I am going to sleep right now so that I can get up at OHMYGOD in the morning (like 5 AM, I am not kidding) and drive to Birmingham. HOORAY. At least I will have slept.
My descent into bandom has happened very rapidly and mostly in flocked posts, but aurora_84 linked me to the stages of joining bandom and it seems fairly accurate. I'm pretty solidly into defensiveness, which consists of "YEAH I LIKE PETE WENTZ AND HIS VAST EMPIRE OF PRETTY GAY BOYS, WHAT OF IT????? GO DIE IN A FIRE IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT YOU JAGGED COCKHAMMER!!!THEY'RE HILARIOUS AND CUTE OKAY JESUS H CRIMINY" And exsequar just uploaded the live versions of P!atD songs for me and, like, I'm pretty sure this is what going mad feels like.
God. This was so unintentional. If you'd told me THIS TIME LAST WEEK that this was going to happen, I would not have believed you.
You guys. When I get back ALL OF MY SHOWS WILL HAVE STARTED. I'm going to miss the premiere of Heroes and The Office and, most importantly, Supernatural. A month is FOREVER in fandom time. Of course, it's okay because I am SO EXCITED I CAN HARDLY CONTAIN IT. I'm spending a week on a boat in the Mediteranean. I'm GOING TO TROY. And YET I'm still wondering if I can get my parents to tape the SPN premiere. I really am that much of a sad little fangirl.
***
On a much more serious and non-silly fangirl note, I also feel just . . . really weird about not being in New Orleans on August 29th. It's a ridiculous, superstitious thing, I know. The anniversary was so weird last year. Strange and unsettling and quiet and the streets were dead by 1 AM and this is New Orleans, and that's not how we roll. We should have been celebrating the very fact that we were here to celebrate. And we did. We have done that so many times in the last two years, but not on the anniversary. On the anniversary the quarter was like a ghost town. It was weird, and now it's been two years, you guys, and that's even weirder. It does not feel that long and at the same time, it feels so much longer. I won't be around on the 29th to make this post, so I'm making it now.
When I was at Writercon last summer there was a panel about Place as Character, about how places really do have metanarratives, and there are stories you can tell in New York that you can't tell in Chicago that you can't tell in San Francisco, that you can't tell in New Orleans. And I talked about it to everyone who would listen for that entire weekend and then it stayed with me because the metanarrative of New Orleans is one that I think a lot about. New Orleans is a character in every story set here. I don't think it's possible to tell a story in New Orleans without having the setting permeate everything. Hell, I can't keep a blog without that happening. When I was a sophomore in college I had a class about New Orleans in literature. The professor made me want to spork my eyeballs, so I can't claim I got much from the class itself, but from the texts? Yeah. Because what do Interview with the Vampire, A Confederacy of Dunces, Fat, White Vampire Blues, The Awakening, The Moviegoer and A Streetcar Named Desire all have in common, other than New Orleans? It's obvious when you read them back to back; it became even more obvious when I worked on the New Orleans by New Orleans writers edition of the New Orleans Review post Katrina. New Orleans' metanarrative is one of precipice, of waiting for disaster, of being afraid you'll lose yourself and being afraid you won't. Talk to anyone who moves here and gets sucked in and never leaves; read any of the books. New Orleans is dangerous; it'll eat you alive. Added to that, the threat of "The Big One" hangs over everything ( often metaphorically, but also explicitly), it permeates the literature and the art and the way New Orleans sees itself. It's decadence and celebration in the face of disaster. It's gallows humor to the core. It's eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Those are the stories that you tell here.
I remember going out the night before we evacuated for Ivan (in 2004). We were leaving the bar in the middle of the night and this incredibly drunk woman walked by us. She asked if we were leaving and we said yes, and she laughed at us. She told us that she had her inner tube and her six pack and she was going to float down the river. But that was before. And I wonder now, have wondered for awhile, if something like Katrina changes enough about the way the city sees itself that it changes the metanarrative. I wonder if you can tell the same stories here that you could tell two years ago; I wonder how resilient New Orleans is really because I don't think it's ever going to come back the same, but not coming back the same is different than not coming back at all, and I don't know. I don't think anyone does. I think it's too soon. I don't think you can know yet. Also, I'm not local and I'll never be. No matter how long I live here, there are things I'll never understand.
Of course, the gallows humor is intact. Bars in this town serve drinks name "Katrina" and "Cat 5." The metanarrative is one of transience as much as precipice, and it feels even more transient now. It's stickier than before, and messier, desperately decadent and maybe more dangerous than ever. Before Katrina I was planning on leaving after graduation - *right* after graduation. And I have all kinds of reasons for why that didn't happen, and some of them are even true, but at my most honest I can admit that there is a part of me that is deeply afraid that New Orleans wouldn't be here if I left and then wanted to come back. As I was packing up my stuff for this trip, nojah asked me if there was anything I wanted her to save in the event of the unthinkable, if it happened again. And I said no, because I'm taking everything I absolutely cannot lose to Birmingham. And we just looked at each other. And she said, I can't believe we have to have this conversation. And maybe we don't? But it feels like we do. There's an impermanence to everything, to my entire adult life and maybe that's just being 23 and unsettled. I don't know, I have nothing to compare it to, but maybe it's being 23 and unsettled and here. I've changed a lot in the past two years, in the way I see myself and the way I relate to the world and I think it's for the better, but some of it's because of events that are seemingly innocuous and some of it is because of people who will never know how important they were, that they were catalysts and so much of it is because of that damn storm. And I hate that I owe part of myself to that. But I do. How could I not? I owe so much of myself to New Orleans and the experiences I've had here and the things I've done here that I would not have done anywhere else. Just, how could I not?
I also can't believe I'm leaving this post unlocked. But I am, so. This has nothing to do wtih Turkey. There will be at least one more good-bye post about how psyched I am about my TRIP OF A LIFETIME. It's just that I need to say this. I need to say it on August 29, actually, but I can't, so I'm saying it now.
Here, have some Cowboy Mouth. They are from here and they are awesome and here are their New Orleans songs. And also "Jenny Says" because it's "Jenny Says." "Home" and "The Avenue" will make you cry forever. The first time I heard them was when I saw Cowboy Mouth at Jazzfest right before graduation. The entire crowd started singing along. I cried forever.
Home
The Avenue
Louisiana Lowdown
New Orleans
Jenny Says
My descent into bandom has happened very rapidly and mostly in flocked posts, but aurora_84 linked me to the stages of joining bandom and it seems fairly accurate. I'm pretty solidly into defensiveness, which consists of "YEAH I LIKE PETE WENTZ AND HIS VAST EMPIRE OF PRETTY GAY BOYS, WHAT OF IT????? GO DIE IN A FIRE IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT YOU JAGGED COCKHAMMER!!!THEY'RE HILARIOUS AND CUTE OKAY JESUS H CRIMINY" And exsequar just uploaded the live versions of P!atD songs for me and, like, I'm pretty sure this is what going mad feels like.
God. This was so unintentional. If you'd told me THIS TIME LAST WEEK that this was going to happen, I would not have believed you.
You guys. When I get back ALL OF MY SHOWS WILL HAVE STARTED. I'm going to miss the premiere of Heroes and The Office and, most importantly, Supernatural. A month is FOREVER in fandom time. Of course, it's okay because I am SO EXCITED I CAN HARDLY CONTAIN IT. I'm spending a week on a boat in the Mediteranean. I'm GOING TO TROY. And YET I'm still wondering if I can get my parents to tape the SPN premiere. I really am that much of a sad little fangirl.
***
On a much more serious and non-silly fangirl note, I also feel just . . . really weird about not being in New Orleans on August 29th. It's a ridiculous, superstitious thing, I know. The anniversary was so weird last year. Strange and unsettling and quiet and the streets were dead by 1 AM and this is New Orleans, and that's not how we roll. We should have been celebrating the very fact that we were here to celebrate. And we did. We have done that so many times in the last two years, but not on the anniversary. On the anniversary the quarter was like a ghost town. It was weird, and now it's been two years, you guys, and that's even weirder. It does not feel that long and at the same time, it feels so much longer. I won't be around on the 29th to make this post, so I'm making it now.
When I was at Writercon last summer there was a panel about Place as Character, about how places really do have metanarratives, and there are stories you can tell in New York that you can't tell in Chicago that you can't tell in San Francisco, that you can't tell in New Orleans. And I talked about it to everyone who would listen for that entire weekend and then it stayed with me because the metanarrative of New Orleans is one that I think a lot about. New Orleans is a character in every story set here. I don't think it's possible to tell a story in New Orleans without having the setting permeate everything. Hell, I can't keep a blog without that happening. When I was a sophomore in college I had a class about New Orleans in literature. The professor made me want to spork my eyeballs, so I can't claim I got much from the class itself, but from the texts? Yeah. Because what do Interview with the Vampire, A Confederacy of Dunces, Fat, White Vampire Blues, The Awakening, The Moviegoer and A Streetcar Named Desire all have in common, other than New Orleans? It's obvious when you read them back to back; it became even more obvious when I worked on the New Orleans by New Orleans writers edition of the New Orleans Review post Katrina. New Orleans' metanarrative is one of precipice, of waiting for disaster, of being afraid you'll lose yourself and being afraid you won't. Talk to anyone who moves here and gets sucked in and never leaves; read any of the books. New Orleans is dangerous; it'll eat you alive. Added to that, the threat of "The Big One" hangs over everything ( often metaphorically, but also explicitly), it permeates the literature and the art and the way New Orleans sees itself. It's decadence and celebration in the face of disaster. It's gallows humor to the core. It's eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Those are the stories that you tell here.
I remember going out the night before we evacuated for Ivan (in 2004). We were leaving the bar in the middle of the night and this incredibly drunk woman walked by us. She asked if we were leaving and we said yes, and she laughed at us. She told us that she had her inner tube and her six pack and she was going to float down the river. But that was before. And I wonder now, have wondered for awhile, if something like Katrina changes enough about the way the city sees itself that it changes the metanarrative. I wonder if you can tell the same stories here that you could tell two years ago; I wonder how resilient New Orleans is really because I don't think it's ever going to come back the same, but not coming back the same is different than not coming back at all, and I don't know. I don't think anyone does. I think it's too soon. I don't think you can know yet. Also, I'm not local and I'll never be. No matter how long I live here, there are things I'll never understand.
Of course, the gallows humor is intact. Bars in this town serve drinks name "Katrina" and "Cat 5." The metanarrative is one of transience as much as precipice, and it feels even more transient now. It's stickier than before, and messier, desperately decadent and maybe more dangerous than ever. Before Katrina I was planning on leaving after graduation - *right* after graduation. And I have all kinds of reasons for why that didn't happen, and some of them are even true, but at my most honest I can admit that there is a part of me that is deeply afraid that New Orleans wouldn't be here if I left and then wanted to come back. As I was packing up my stuff for this trip, nojah asked me if there was anything I wanted her to save in the event of the unthinkable, if it happened again. And I said no, because I'm taking everything I absolutely cannot lose to Birmingham. And we just looked at each other. And she said, I can't believe we have to have this conversation. And maybe we don't? But it feels like we do. There's an impermanence to everything, to my entire adult life and maybe that's just being 23 and unsettled. I don't know, I have nothing to compare it to, but maybe it's being 23 and unsettled and here. I've changed a lot in the past two years, in the way I see myself and the way I relate to the world and I think it's for the better, but some of it's because of events that are seemingly innocuous and some of it is because of people who will never know how important they were, that they were catalysts and so much of it is because of that damn storm. And I hate that I owe part of myself to that. But I do. How could I not? I owe so much of myself to New Orleans and the experiences I've had here and the things I've done here that I would not have done anywhere else. Just, how could I not?
I also can't believe I'm leaving this post unlocked. But I am, so. This has nothing to do wtih Turkey. There will be at least one more good-bye post about how psyched I am about my TRIP OF A LIFETIME. It's just that I need to say this. I need to say it on August 29, actually, but I can't, so I'm saying it now.
Here, have some Cowboy Mouth. They are from here and they are awesome and here are their New Orleans songs. And also "Jenny Says" because it's "Jenny Says." "Home" and "The Avenue" will make you cry forever. The first time I heard them was when I saw Cowboy Mouth at Jazzfest right before graduation. The entire crowd started singing along. I cried forever.
Home
The Avenue
Louisiana Lowdown
New Orleans
Jenny Says