Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Fever ramblings.

My hubby is weird. He drew this, btw. He has a few drawings inspired by the beloved N'awlins. The darker, seedier side that always appeals to the wilder parts of our natures. The danger that made our pulses quicken when we read Anne Rice's wonderful literary photos of the town.

You have to say this for her, she didn't cull any part of the town. She embraced it all, from the trashiest section to the most posh.

New Orleans to me was always like a big old piece of ripe fruit. It tasted good, heavy, sweet, potent, almost fermented, making you drunk off its juices. But you had to be careful of the bites you took, there was a rotten part hidden beneath. But even that part was beautiful in its own way.

When I was a kid, we went, mama and me. We walked around to all the sights and into one of the churches. A small note: I am a Southern Baptist, we don't have statuary in our churches. So, it came a shock when we walked in, awe inspiring, the color, the saints up in the niches on the walls. I don't even remember the name of the church, but I still remember the art. That is what I thought of it as. Art.

NOLA inspires artists of all kinds, poets, painters, writers, songwriters you name it, there is something about that town in all those categories, some are overrun with New Orleans. For one, books, there are more books based in that town than Carter's got liver pills. If all those characters actually lived there, what a place it would be.

Lestat does live there, in my imagination, he always will. Along with the Mayfairs. I read a piece that Ms. Rice wrote in the paper, and while it was pointed, it was also eloquent. It made my heart ache for all that has been lost. All that is gone, washed out to sea.

But Lestat is still there, along with all the others that have been written down through the years. They are waiting in our imaginations, leaping off the page. And with a bit of work, the NOLA will come back. I firmly believe that, I have to believe that. For the people that love the city, for the people that are inspired by the city. For all of us, for Anne, for you, for me, and yeah, *grins* for Lestat.
Our evacuees are doing better. They are being helped out by our local churches and civic organizations. The Chamber of Commerce in Bastrop is taking all the donated items and disbursing them. However, I don't know about jobs, there are none to be had here at all. I am not kidding, employment sucks in this community.

Also, I got bitched out for calling them refugees at work. WTF? The woman can get off her high horse at me, she's nutters. (I am speaking of a coworker fpth) It doesn't matter if I call them evacuees or refugees, victims or whatever. I still call them this, people in need. By the time its all over, I am sure I will call them friends, and if nothing else, family.

Have a good day
It's All Good

1 comment:

Karen said...

The hubby's picture is kick ass - he really should be getting PAID for his talent. And that lady who bitched you out? Please. How dare she argue semantics with you when people are suffering. Petty ho probably just needs to get laid.