new orleans
the first movie was de ja vu. it was set in new orleans after katrina. i think they must have picked that location on purpose, and i hope that production poured money into that town.
i got my news about katrina from womyn's studies class my first semester in college. we talked about current events before class. i remember hearing the warnings and thinking that it would be like all the other hurricanes to hit the area. to hit florida. people would leave and the water would come and pass. even if something terrible happened. i thought it would pass.
but it got worse. after the water came floods and broken cities. not just new orleans, but all around the south. and students showed up with loyola and tulane sweatshirts, not just in solidarity, but because they had to leave home. my mom volunteered in tucson when the tcc hosted refugees. just did some counselling, i suppose. i was so proud of her then.
and it didn't pass. out of the news, maybe, but not out of the culture. the vocabulary. it stayed. and in some territory it hangs still, so when my brother and i talked cities the other day, new orleans just came off my tongue.
we watched the client, probably my parents' favorite movie. it was totally bitchin', indeed. anthony lapaglia and bradley whitford, mary louise parker, susan sarandon, that kid. it was split up between memphis and new orleans, years and years ago. and it just resonated.
i bought a defend new orleans tshirt. on mardi gras this year i searched out common ground, a local community action organization. i watched ellen, who's from new orleans, and saw her shirt and there found the link to common ground. i thought about teaching there after i graduate. i sought out wikipedia's alleged cowpunk, and google maps.
my first mardi gras was in mr. allman's class in the fourth grade. he work a purple, green, and yellow shirt and told us all it was fat tuesday. nobody knew what the hell he was talking about, but i loved it. i'm not sure very many of them after that passed remarked. there were doubloons in the cafeteria this year. and once there was a surprise parade while rach4ael and i were having pizza with dave at brooklyn.
what does it all amount to? only a vague, frustrating, stalking desire to be some other place, leading some other life, alone and somehow competent, with all my weights and baggage converted by some miracle into stories, light as air. i'd be a recovering logophobic, rhetor-by-trade and always with a live audience. (in this respect: i miss school.)
i got my news about katrina from womyn's studies class my first semester in college. we talked about current events before class. i remember hearing the warnings and thinking that it would be like all the other hurricanes to hit the area. to hit florida. people would leave and the water would come and pass. even if something terrible happened. i thought it would pass.
but it got worse. after the water came floods and broken cities. not just new orleans, but all around the south. and students showed up with loyola and tulane sweatshirts, not just in solidarity, but because they had to leave home. my mom volunteered in tucson when the tcc hosted refugees. just did some counselling, i suppose. i was so proud of her then.
and it didn't pass. out of the news, maybe, but not out of the culture. the vocabulary. it stayed. and in some territory it hangs still, so when my brother and i talked cities the other day, new orleans just came off my tongue.
we watched the client, probably my parents' favorite movie. it was totally bitchin', indeed. anthony lapaglia and bradley whitford, mary louise parker, susan sarandon, that kid. it was split up between memphis and new orleans, years and years ago. and it just resonated.
i bought a defend new orleans tshirt. on mardi gras this year i searched out common ground, a local community action organization. i watched ellen, who's from new orleans, and saw her shirt and there found the link to common ground. i thought about teaching there after i graduate. i sought out wikipedia's alleged cowpunk, and google maps.
my first mardi gras was in mr. allman's class in the fourth grade. he work a purple, green, and yellow shirt and told us all it was fat tuesday. nobody knew what the hell he was talking about, but i loved it. i'm not sure very many of them after that passed remarked. there were doubloons in the cafeteria this year. and once there was a surprise parade while rach4ael and i were having pizza with dave at brooklyn.
what does it all amount to? only a vague, frustrating, stalking desire to be some other place, leading some other life, alone and somehow competent, with all my weights and baggage converted by some miracle into stories, light as air. i'd be a recovering logophobic, rhetor-by-trade and always with a live audience. (in this respect: i miss school.)