it's too cold to contemplate actually going out tonight. even though i am going through bad-jukebox-shuffleboad withdrawal. and quite possibly drinking copious amounts of beer withdrawal. and most certainly not even thinking about drinking screwdrivers ever again, since seriously, i was a drunken fool for krewe d'vieux last weekend. my legs were sore on saturday from following the hot 8 from the bywater to the french quarter to the bywater again.

very relieved it is friday, and that means tomorrow is saturday, and i am going to wake up and paint and pot some plants and then do community outreach in district five. hooboy! i am thinking about going to barkus on sunday. i don't know who i am kidding. i'm going to barkus on sunday.

images of the city

i infiltrated an abandoned pool last weekend. it was raining, and cold, and pretty much a miserable day. part of the city flooded, as per usual. last night i was out in my garden, and i saw that my broccoli has sprouted little itty bitty broccoli heads. it was pretty exciting.

images from the city

i've been listening to an obscene amount of sad, old country these days. i think it's because i miss georgia- the location, and the time i spent there, and the people i knew, and who i used to be. that rickety old house where we fell through the floor a couple of times. and used to drink too much too early in the day. last night there were many people in my dreams who i will probably never speak to again. eventually it won't feel strange that i don't see them everyday.

it's cold and raining here in louisiana today.

going "home" to my parents house is always interesting. first, because they move around, a lot. since i left for college, they have lived in augusta, georgia, two different houses in knoxville, and now a rather strange house in lexington, kentucky- so four houses in a period of six years. second, because now that i live in new orleans, leaving that city for one that, you know, functions is quite a shock. the parents live in a new-ish neighborhood that is absolutely strange. it's one of those new developments where there are six prototypes of houses, all of which are situated on the exact same spot on lots that are the exact same size. all of the trees are roughly six feet tall, and are planted in the exact same spot in the front right corner of each lot. all the mailboxes are the same style, and spaced perfectly even, so, when standing on the slight hill where my parents' driveway begins, the predominent impression one gets is of insane and intense monotony- it looks like it was built by legos. at first i hated it, as my mother hates it. but now i'm finding this strange attraction to it. i wish i had brought my camera, so i could take pictures of it. but me and my camera had a bit of a falling out, and i'm trying to think of how to bridge the gap now.

i just don't want to take pictures that much anymore. living in such a photogenic city as new orleans has my photographic sense on overload- everything looks amazing, but contrived. and i realize that i am not an official member of the new orleans club yet, so i don't want to push myself in. also, as a friend of mine said the other day, "really, you don't want to wander around new orleans with an expensive camera." for real.

never before have i had to think so much about a place as i have new orleans. i feel like there's going to be some sort of final exam i'll have to take before i move away. a thesis to produce. it doesn't help that any time you encounter someone from the outside they make you talk about it. how is new orleans. how is new orleans. depending on ones' mood, it's either better, so much better, they never talk about how much better is getting, or it is worse, oh man is it bad, you will not believe how fucking crazy this town is.

i never intending this to turn into a clearinghouse for what i think and feel about the city. but really, what i think and feel about the city is turning out to be what i am preoccupied with most of the time.

i think i have to get out of politics. which is pathetic, considering i really just go into politics, and really, if i stick it out my resume would look great and i might get good "contacts"- but for what? the political landscape of this city? perhaps if i felt that i was going to live here for an extended time period i would tough it out, muscle through, swallow whatever tiny bit of pride and dignity i have and just. deal. with. it. and not to say that i haven't worked with good candidates and great people. i have. i just don't believe in it. and now that im poised to get thrown into much bigger races with much bigger candidates whom, really, i am against for various reasons, i don't think i can play along anymore. i understand the idea of the lesser evil, and supporting those candidates who have a chance of defeating the truly odious ones, but really, fuck it. i'm supposed to be young and idealistic right now, which is pathetic considering how jagged and jaded i feel these days. i'm turning into that horrible person who is anti everything for some reason, against the system and against the revolution.

was out drinking last night down in the cbd. it was a book release party, but for an indie book about life after the storm, so the place was chock full of overly self-conscious young white kids trying to play some unrecognizable part. and they all looked the same.

wondered how much it would cost, really, to hire a hitman in this city. not to do it, but just out of curiousity after hearing about a pair of hitmen in the seventh ward who collectively were responsible for over 30 murders. talking with a friend about really, what do people do for a living here? the cost of living is so high, and the wages so low, and decent jobs so scarce.

the whole city feels like a twisted social experiment.

had a great conversation with a fellow transplant last night, about this city, and how it's like no other place, really, in the united states. which, ironically, was a point that had been forced down my throat on saturday night, when an extremely drunk man who believes himself to be some sort of robert capa uber-male journalist harangued me for forty five damn minutes on the socio-political schitzophrenia of empire and what god hath wrought on new orleans. and i understood what he was saying, but i resented it, because i am getting tired of how self-conscious so many young people in this city seem to be, like they constantly have to remind themselves that they are living on the edge, the wild wild west of urban america.

last night two of my bar acquaintances told me that they had been in pal's the night a mentally disturbed man slit a woman's throat- she died right at my feet, he said, and i have army med training and there was nothing i could do, it happened so fast.

and what we talked about was how every day you wake up and you either love this city, or you hate it. and there is no in between. and this happens with everyone, the whole population, every day this strange struggle. and this city won't be the same in five ot ten years, people will forget, or people will leave, and this city might not actually recover. so i am glad that i am here, witnessing it, and am able to make up my mind about the actuality, the reality of this place, instead of constantly being told what it is, especially by overbearing drunks.