ghosts of southern comforts past

There are ghosts here, ghosts of previous drunken nights. Like the night I got into a near fistfight with KC, a useless drunk here in Indy, because he had insulted my best friend Scott. Ghosts of people to whom I was friendly or even nice before I moved to NO and learned the lesson once and for all that the road to hell IS paved with good intentions. Being nice to somebody today is fending off their advances tomorrow, or if not their advances then their unwanted friendship. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of nice people in Indy but lecherous seems to be a common trait. The moment I walked into the bar I heard someone exclaim "oh the night is turning better" and I saw the man who said it and disagreed with him. When I went to the bathroom (to pee) a few moments later I knew I would have company and I was not disappointed in my assessment of the situation.

I met another guy tonight who was nice and asked for my number. I wrote it down for some reason while explaining that I didn't want or need a boyfriend and then slipped the incriminating slip of paper off the bar and put it in my pocket a moment later.

Dodging bullets is my specialty.

YankeeNexile....in exile...

I am really frustrated. Since a week or so after the hurricane I have been in Indiana pending a decision to return to New Orleans. After my visit a few weeks back I had pretty much decided that New Orleans wasn't safe to return to yet, nor was there enough work to employ myself. Those in charge of the pub....Yes I'm taking a deep breath there....Told me that it wasn't a good idea for me to come back if I were somewhere that I could maintain myself for a little while longer. I even asked them if the end of the year would be a good time to return and they (the person to whom I spoke who seems to be in charge) agreed that would be a good time frame. The fact is that nobody really knows when things will be back to "normal" in New Orleans and everybody is flying by the seat of their pants so to speak. Jeff, my roommate, has returned as well as my friend (and oft commenter to my blog) Michael. I haven't talked to Michael since his re-establishment but Jeff paints a picture of perfect bliss, everyone floating on clouds with heels dug in to rebuild the city, all with a stiff upper lip and tara like pride. My visit was not so convincing. Most of the people who were there when I was there were the ones you hoped had evacuated with no way back and that was just the employees of the pub. Okay I am just kidding on that one...Mostly, but the caliber of the residents I saw a few weeks ago was what you might find as wash outs of a methadone clinic.

ANYway...So I decided that I would put my return off for a little while and tentatively made plans to return on Jan. 2nd. That would give me time to spend the holidays with my family (something I had planned to do this year anyway) and have a nice New Years party with my old roommates before symbolically returning on the 2nd which would be my six year anniversary of living in New Orleans. Then I find out that my boss has called several people and asked them when they plan to return. I have received no such call. Now, does inconsistency surprise me? Not really. The pub has been very generous to us in some ways, they have kept up the payments on our insurance (though now tell us it will be due in one lump sum or they will cancel it on us) and set up a little website for the dis-bersment of information. It seems though that the floodwaters did not wash away the system by which they treat their employees; seemingly we are unwanted, unneeded and unloved. Or maybe it's just me.

I have some travel plans coming up, I am going to Houston to visit with Jon and Paul, two co-workers who have relocated there. That will make me happy.

My time in Indiana has been mostly a happy time. I have been able to reconnect with old friends and spend time with them as well as spending tons of time with my mother and sister. I go out twice, maybe three times a week, I don't drink nearly as much. I've even gone on a date with the same boy two times. I miss my friends in New Orleans, most of whom are gone gone gone and aren't coming back. I miss my dogs who are still living in Jackson with their grandparents but are due to come back to the city very soon. I miss my house and my bed and my terribly unkempt backyard. I miss my roommate even though he drives me insane about half of the time. He told me today that he painted our bathroom...Orange. I will reserve judgment until I see it in person. I miss Bianca but I'll have to go on missing her since she isn't coming back. I miss my co-workers and most of the ones I miss the most are gone now too. What's left is, well...I'll just say they are what's left and not comment further.

I have given though to not returning to New Orleans at all or to returning for a short time and then coming back to Indiana. I have lots of support for returning here and it's not a decision that has been made. There are a lot of people in New Orleans (my bosses aside) who are looking forward to my returning. Others may fear it but they aren't really part of this equation. In the constant mental tally between the two cities is the fact that Indy is Indy, nothing more and nothing less. There aren't tons of new tourists all the time to meet and entertain and there certainly isn't the bawdiness of New Orleans to be found here. It's also very cold for a very long time every year. Indy also isn't full of the transient lifestyle of drunks and drugs that New Orleans seems to embody. Like I said, it's not a decision that will be made today or tomorrow but one that weighs constantly on my mind.

Ciao for now my constant readers and I apologize for such lapses in my writing.

Please...

Do Not Double Dip the Spoons!

- Nashville, Indiana 10/17/2005

Whipping Okra

Thursday night I was in Jackson, MS spending a last night there with my roommate Jeff, his family and the puppies. Jeff and I had spent most of the week going back and forth from New Orleans. The first day there was very difficult and depressing. On the second day we did quite a bit of driving around and "sightseeing" as it were. If I had thought the first day was bad, the second day was even worse. In describing the scene I can only say that it looks like a movie set, a film about the apocalypse except it goes on for miles and miles. Uptown is a mass of rubbish, the massively damaged streetcar lines and the endless din of tree removal trucks. Traveling towards the lake you see nothing but destruction, street after street of flooded out cars and abandoned houses. The giant spray painted X from various agencies dot most every door, a reminder of the search for life and then the search for death. My friend Michael had told me about the marks and that "DB" was marked when they found a body. Jeff mentioned seeing several of them but I didn't see them until the next day when we drove through Lakeview. We were actually about a 10th of a mile from the main breech on the 17th street canal. The entire area is a sickening brownish gray color and all the vegetation is utterly dead. Trees have been piled up for removal, huge 50ft high towers of dead trees. Looking at the houses as you pass is like reading a topographical map; the water lines portraying the difference in elevation. It was on our way to the Lakeview area on Orleans that I saw a business with the large X and the number 10 in the lower quadrant. I convinced myself that it was a messy 0 or that we had just driven by it too quickly for me to get a proper look. Somehow I think that I saw it correctly the first time and the instant queasiness returns every time I think back to that moment.

At the lakefront you see the burned out remains of the yacht club and the stacked up boatyard, sailboats that are heaped together, a sea of masts going all different directions. There are boats all around this area, some that came to rest in roadways have been towed to the side of the street, others sit on their sides in yards. One lone sailboat was trapped on the rocks at the Point by the yacht club. The best way to see it is to stand on top of the sea wall and survey the area. I was standing there and then turned around to see the area behind the wall, and though I hate to overuse the word surreal, that is the only word to describe the view. Beautiful homes are on the other side of the sea wall, undamaged. You see manicured landscapes and children playing with the faint noise of distant lawnmowers tending to these untouched places.

While visiting I did get to see several people that I had not seen since this whole adventure began. I also saw some people that I prefer to have included themselves in the 37% of New Orleans that won't be returning. While I thought I would be working at least one night while I was there it didn't pan out and so I was free both nights to go out and have some booze. Two of my friends, Penny and Joel, drove down from the north shore on Tuesday so we could all get together. Blake D. Is back behind the bar at Good Friends, though the upstairs isn't open. Jerry F. Is at GF's too. Aletha's loud ass is back at Lafittes (no insult intended, I love Aletha dearly but damn you can hear that woman a block away). I had heard in the aftermath of the storm that Aletha and her partner Mac had been separated and reunited so it was good to see both of them while I was there. Cookie, Muzzy, TQ, David Mac and Allen were all behind the bar at the pub at one point of another. Monday afternoon Lisa came in but she isn't back to work yet. Day manager Terri was there every day too, though he told me that he is leaving, going back to fighting and off soon on a whirl wind world tour. I ran into Mark Scovern every day it seems and Tuesday night I got to spend some quality time with my boss (and friend) Blake. That was very emotional for both of us, I think we both cried by the time I went home. Freddy and Vicky are both back in the office trying to get things sorted out. I'm sure Jonathan was there. I never saw him...

On a Side Note....

I have heard that there may be some big changes at the pub soon.

Since I'm not privy to those things I'll have to wait.

I'll keep you posted (get it, posted) as things develop...

And now back to my entry...

Only the downstairs is open right now and the city is enforcing a curfew, though the time on it seems to change daily. When I was in town it was midnite so everyone had to be closed by 11:30 to give folks a chance to get home. Things at the pub were slow when I was there, though everyone reported that the previous weekend was very busy. Oz is still closed for "remodeling" since they did receive some damage from a leaky roof. Napoleons itch was back up and running. It's hit or miss with most businesses. The quarter master is open but the deli part isn't. Verti Mart is open and so is Mattassas grocery. Tropical Isle is open and upon seeing a group of them I realized that I almost missed idiot drunken tourists chugging down those horrific hand grenade drinks.

One thing I noticed, which I expected, was the t-shirts shops hawking "I survived Katrina" t-shirts. Another was the more political and less popular "Where is FEMA" with the slogan underneath that said Federal Employees Missing Again. It didn't make much sense but then I was so sickened by the Katrina shirts that I didn't have time to concentrate on the inner though process of the creators. It's just reprehensible to sell these shirts. I am a firm believer in the idea that nothing can't be joked about but the idea of making (or god forbid wearing) a shirt proclaiming you survived somewhat that a thousand or so other people DIDN'T survive is just disgusting. I admit my own hypocrisy in loving t-shirthell.com's shirt "123 out of 124 high school students agree...VIVA ARUBA" and went ape-shit for their shirt with a picture of the pope and the tag line 'Only the good die young..." But I'm going for a point here so work with me. Besides, there is a difference between fodder for jokes and gloating about your own survival. If the Katrina shirts are the level of merchandising we're going for then why not just go whole hog and prints shirts with slogans like "I survived breast cancer, but my tits didn't" "I Outlived Juvenile Diabetes" or maybe a baby doll one for black girls that say "I wanted to be a man until I found out about Sickle Cell." Why not go international and travel the world right next to the red cross, mobil shirt press in a travel bag, disaster to disaster, hawking the triumph of survival to those who were able to reach high ground. You sell shirts that say "I survived spring break (as long as you stay out of Aruba) but not surviving natural disasters.

I had taken my sisters video camera along to film some of the damaged areas and was showing the footage to Jeff's parents house that last night in Jackson. His father told me about the false blooming cycle that is happening in hurricane affected areas. Trees and plants are sprouting their seeds in order to re-populate themselves because they think they are dying. He referred to it as "Whipping Okra," the process of damaging an Okra plant to encourage it's more plentiful production. The phrase stuck in my mind and seems to sum up my feelings about New Orleans right now. Her residents seem to be blooming falsely, assuring everyone and perhaps even convincing themselves that New Orleans will return to it's former self or perhaps, even better! While I don't want to be a negative nancy or a Debbie Downer, this false bloom may be fruitless. The catch 22 of the situation is that people don't want to return unless there are services for them and the services can't resume until there are people there. Many people are not returning. I have spoken to very few friends with are definitely planning to return for good. While I see the point of blooming and invigorating the city and while I do plan to return by the end of the year, I can't help but doubt this seedling city will need more than hand grenades and boas to blossom.

The bitch...the bitch....

the bitch is back....for at least a day or two...

Yesterday I flew to Jackson MS and was reunited with my roommate Jeff and my two doggies, Dash and Chase. All three were excited to see me and I was excited to see them as well. The dogs and I rolled around together on the floor in a frenzy of petting and stomach rubbing. It was a lot like many of my first dates.

After the excitement had worn off I had dinner with Jeff's family, including an aunt and uncle or two. These are good old Mississippi people and so the conversation centered mainly around church services and why they all seemed to dislike the baptists. I shared stories of my more bizarre family members churches (the holy rollers and the Nazarenes) and after dinner excused myself fairly quickly and went to bed. In the course of the night I had two different and sometimes both greyhound pups in the super small bed with me but by the middle of the night I was spooning with Dash and Chase had given up and moved to Jeff's bed across the room.

This morning we took Chase to the vet for his shots and then were off to New Orleans. Jeff had been here last week and warned me of some of the more shocking things, mostly being the dog park across from our house. He said most of the trees were knocked down and much of the fencing was damaged. I had borrowed a video camera from my sister and used it to film as we drove into town. What I saw was upsetting, lots of blue tarps and piles of rubbage everywhere. We got into the quarter and the biggest thing you see are refrigerators. I read somewhere last week that you weren't supposed to just leave your frigidaire out on the sidewalk because they didn't have anybody to pick them up...obviously no-one listened to this instruction as there were many of them on the sidewalks. Our house was, and let me knock on wood and push a few christians down on their knees to offer their thanks, completely fine.

Jeff and I walked down to the pub and then around the quarter...I can and will probably have a lot to say about the topic but suffice to say that today was heartbreaking. I was so upset to see my city in such a way, so beaten down. The optimism I see in some is mirrored by the defeat I see in others. Most everyone seems to be in a state of confusion, undecided about their future, the future of New Orleans and Jesus Christ, is the ice safe to put in our cocktails? There is optimism, businesses are open and the most unbelievable thing, today in front of St. Louis Cathedral today was a couple getting married on the steps of Jackson Square Park. There was a military humvee 30 feet and the other direction there was a CBS news crew preparing for their nightly report. I have no idea of the circumstance of why these people chose to marry there or when but it was probably the only uplifting thing I saw all day. We stuck around for a minute to clap for the couple (something I despise at church weddings, people clapping.) Today it seemed appropriate.

We went back to the house and rested a bit, I made my bed and put DVD's away in a travel bag for return to Indiana. We went back out to the bars to have a few drinks. The local police have decided to enforce the curfew so the bars had to close at 11:30 pm and we were home by midnite. Tomorrow we are going to drive around for a bit, hopefully taking in lakeview and uptown or at least as much as I can stand.

Ciao for now....

Playing Catch Up

Saturday the 27th I wrote my last blog while in New Orleans. We had yet to decide about our evacuation. I left for work about 7:30 or so and said to Jeff before leaving, "I think we should definitely think about leaving tomorrow." That night was very busy; unusually so because the night before a hurricane is normally filled only with the most noxious of trash. That Saturday was fun, full of regulars and boy were they drinking. Kyle Kennedy, AKA doogie was back dancing on the bar along with Christopher and Bryan. Little Duane was VJing, the music was fun. Lots of people had already evacuated but those left were determined to have a good time. I saw more people rolling on X than I had ever seen I think. I was a bit shocked by that, thinking, "Shouldn't you be planning a way out of town instead of searching for your next red bull and orange juice??" I digress. Jeff called about 11:30 and I was busy but I called him back about an hour later. He sounded frantic on the phone and said "I want out of here yesterday, I've packed the car, what time do you get off work??" I knew that Uncle Tom Nagin, the idiot mayor, was planning to announce the mandatory evacuation at 7 am and the bar was going to close at 6 am. I was working with Ron, who I knew wasn't planning to evacuate, so I asked him if I could take off early. He said yes, I finished up, had a drink or two to relax and then headed home. Jeff did indeed have the car loaded and so we set to work preparing to evacuate. I had packed up some important things the day before, thinking we may end up staying at the bar if things got to rough. We took our dining room table and desk and laid the boxsprings and mattresses across them with things piled on top and a big tarp over that...The couch was put up high by balancing it across two chairs...CD's and DVD's were put up higher, bookshelves were cleaned off, shutters were nailed shut. Finally we loaded the dogs, nailed shut the front door and we were off to Baton Rouge about 7:30 in the morning.

The trip there was long, but mostly uneventful. I say that because I slept almost the entire way there...as much as one could sleep with two nervous dogs panting in your ear...and seven hours later we pulled into the driveway of my friend Phillip and our next adventure began...

(obviously this story is long and will take a few entries, which will hopefully
be coming more often now that I am back to more constant DSL lines)

On a side note I want to send a big hearty Fuck You out to a man I had to wait on today, the one who ordered cole slaw but then insisted he ordered fries. Yes a big hearty fuck you, and yes I charged you for the fries because you kept the coleslaw too but I hope that speaking to me in such a demeaning way made you feel like a big man in front of your friends and made up for your micro-cock swimming around in those 36 inch carharts that are holding up your blue collar, cheap rot-gut swilling beer gut....

Ciao!