The wind is
beginning to pick up.
The gusts are getting
stronger and longer.
I know that the
sound of rain
will lull me to
sleep quickly,
that
and the fact
that I fall asleep
almost instantly
once I lie down.
I hope to sleep soundly.
I just took
a last walk outside
before I go to bed.
It's raining softly.
There is little to no wind.
The huge sycamore
tree in front of the house
keeps the gentle rain
from touching me at all.
I truly hope that
we don't lose that
beautiful tree
to this storm.
I also hope that
if that tree does
come down that
it doesn't hit
anything alive or expensive,
especially not my truck,
which is neither
alive nor expensive.
I heard
the sweet chirping
of tiny frogs
moments ago.
It seems like
decent weather
for frogs.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
10:35 PM A Blustery Evening
There's some wind out there. But not very much. No rain. The wind is coming almost directly from the north, maybe a little northeast. The cicadas are now quiet. There's only the sound of the wind. Without the sound of cars and people and air conditioners the city seems like a serene wilderness on the brink of a storm, on the brink of hurricane Gustav.
Gustav is presently a category three, 115 mph sustained winds variety hurricane. The predicted track is roughly unchanged. The storm is expected to make landfall by 6 AM tomorrow. It's going to get shitty in the hours up to then.
I'm going to bed soon. Probably wake early. I hope to get some rest. I got a message from a friend that it took 14+ hours to make a normally 5 hour trip to Birmingham from New Orleans. Wow!
Gustav is presently a category three, 115 mph sustained winds variety hurricane. The predicted track is roughly unchanged. The storm is expected to make landfall by 6 AM tomorrow. It's going to get shitty in the hours up to then.
I'm going to bed soon. Probably wake early. I hope to get some rest. I got a message from a friend that it took 14+ hours to make a normally 5 hour trip to Birmingham from New Orleans. Wow!
5:30 PM ATM's, My Bicycle, and a Crow
I feel like I've gone through the drill of "staying" so many times now that there's no way I could have missed anything. And that's the danger of feeling like I've done all I could to prepare for this storm, for "staying." Then it hit me. It hit me like a tomohawk chop to the forehead, right between the eyes. I have only a few dollars cash in my pocket. I'd forgotten that electronic transactions were up and running quickly. But they probably won't be up and running in the first week after a storm like this, if it actually hits us, this storm, Gustav.
So I hopped on my bike and took a little jaunt around uptown with the final objective being finding out if the ATM's were working. It was deserted. I scooted past Billie's place. I'd heard that she was staying. But I hadn't heard from her directly. Bob's truck was there. Billie's sled was not. It looked like they were all gone pecans.
There were several NOPD squad cars at Whole Foods, in the back, in the parking garage. They came rolling out just as I rode by. They ignored me. There were a few people walking around: One hipster-looking cool cat wearing a satin Saints bebop style cap. He was walking a dog, a big dog, a blue tick-looking, tall-ass hound dog. Only this dog was red instead of gray. There was another random guy, maybe mid-fifties, smoking a cigarette, wearing a wife beater and suspenders with slacks, no shoes or socks. He looked like he'd snuck out of the house for a smoke while his "old lady" was otherwise preoccupied. There was a small contingent of people gathered on a second story screen porch, talking and listening to music. I imagined them drinking.
There was no one anywhere near the ATM. It was on and fully operative. The ATM worked as it would have any other day, well... any other day except this past Friday. This past Friday I'd gone to this very same ATM and another nearly directly across the street operated by the same bank. Both of them were on but "not dispensing cash at this time." They were out of money and needed to be refilled. I'd taken back streets all the way to the flawlessly operating ATM with avoiding the five-oh on my mind. I'd done that. I'd stuck to the back streets. The back streets were surreal. I felt the same eerie feeling, that change in perspective I get when the great majority of the people are removed from the theater. It's very disconcerting.
The wind laid down some. It's still gusty, on and off. But there are now a few dead slack periods lasting a few minutes to ten minutes or so. The color is dingy and still kind of yellow. But the yellow seems to be less pronounced. The most evident meterological characteristic right now is the near homogeneous, rolling, pale gray cloud cover zooming low overhead.
A huge, very black crow landed on the wire directly outside of my open door. He was making so much ruckus that I had to get up and saunter out to see what was up with all that squawking. He was right there, with his tiny, little, creepy, sinewy, jet black talons wrapped around that wire, the power line leading into my apartment. Did it have a deeper meaning? Was the crow bringing me good luck or bad luck with my impending power issues? Who knows? I also wondered what this crow was doing to my great grandfather's folkloric theory about a crow and the rain. The crow stopped squawking as soon as I sauntered out to check him out. He was looking at me, staring really, turning his head this way and that way, twisting his head in an impossible rotation all the while looking right at me. The bird was staring I'm tellin' ya! OK, so maybe the crow was just lost, blown off-course ahead of the storm, and not here to make or ruin my luck. And maybe he wasn't really staring at me. But he definitely was looking at me.
So I hopped on my bike and took a little jaunt around uptown with the final objective being finding out if the ATM's were working. It was deserted. I scooted past Billie's place. I'd heard that she was staying. But I hadn't heard from her directly. Bob's truck was there. Billie's sled was not. It looked like they were all gone pecans.
There were several NOPD squad cars at Whole Foods, in the back, in the parking garage. They came rolling out just as I rode by. They ignored me. There were a few people walking around: One hipster-looking cool cat wearing a satin Saints bebop style cap. He was walking a dog, a big dog, a blue tick-looking, tall-ass hound dog. Only this dog was red instead of gray. There was another random guy, maybe mid-fifties, smoking a cigarette, wearing a wife beater and suspenders with slacks, no shoes or socks. He looked like he'd snuck out of the house for a smoke while his "old lady" was otherwise preoccupied. There was a small contingent of people gathered on a second story screen porch, talking and listening to music. I imagined them drinking.
There was no one anywhere near the ATM. It was on and fully operative. The ATM worked as it would have any other day, well... any other day except this past Friday. This past Friday I'd gone to this very same ATM and another nearly directly across the street operated by the same bank. Both of them were on but "not dispensing cash at this time." They were out of money and needed to be refilled. I'd taken back streets all the way to the flawlessly operating ATM with avoiding the five-oh on my mind. I'd done that. I'd stuck to the back streets. The back streets were surreal. I felt the same eerie feeling, that change in perspective I get when the great majority of the people are removed from the theater. It's very disconcerting.
The wind laid down some. It's still gusty, on and off. But there are now a few dead slack periods lasting a few minutes to ten minutes or so. The color is dingy and still kind of yellow. But the yellow seems to be less pronounced. The most evident meterological characteristic right now is the near homogeneous, rolling, pale gray cloud cover zooming low overhead.
A huge, very black crow landed on the wire directly outside of my open door. He was making so much ruckus that I had to get up and saunter out to see what was up with all that squawking. He was right there, with his tiny, little, creepy, sinewy, jet black talons wrapped around that wire, the power line leading into my apartment. Did it have a deeper meaning? Was the crow bringing me good luck or bad luck with my impending power issues? Who knows? I also wondered what this crow was doing to my great grandfather's folkloric theory about a crow and the rain. The crow stopped squawking as soon as I sauntered out to check him out. He was looking at me, staring really, turning his head this way and that way, twisting his head in an impossible rotation all the while looking right at me. The bird was staring I'm tellin' ya! OK, so maybe the crow was just lost, blown off-course ahead of the storm, and not here to make or ruin my luck. And maybe he wasn't really staring at me. But he definitely was looking at me.
3:52 PM A Neighborly Act
One of my upstairs neighbors, Will, is also staying for the storm. He's not staying upstairs, here. He's staying with his parents and his brother on the far side of Audubon Park, less than a mile away. He has been making frequent trips in his Jeep Cherokee between his apartment upstairs and his parents' place. He just made his last trip. He cleared his fridge and his freezer. He brought me a half gallon of Stoli he had stashed in the freezer, bottle all frosted up. I'm not a real big drinker of hard alcohol. But I might be convinced to have a sip for Gustav. To neighbors! Here here!
3:03 PM C. Ray
Our Mayor, the honorable C. Ray Nagin announced this morning that anyone caught looting will be sent to directly to Angola Penitentiary. Looters will not spend the night in jail in New Orleans. Looters will go "directly to the big house." It's a real shame that Mayor Nagin's words ring in my ears as irrelevant, as a bad joke, an unfunny spoof on a completely ineffective politician. The good people of New Orleans deserve better than Mr. Nagin. We deserve better leadership, especially now. We need real, effective, fearless, prudent, intelligent leadership instead of this caricature of a municipal leader. I think that any criminal, looters included, should be dealt with according to the letter of the law. What I don't agree with is this condescending language from a "leader" with such a bad track record. Unfortunately, Mayor Nagin has already failed the hurricane preparedness test. He's not just a lame duck. He's just plain lame.
C. Ray's actual quote goes thusly: "Anybody who's caught looting in the city of New Orleans will go directly to Angola [Louisiana State Penitentiary]. You will not have a temporary stay in the city. You go directly to the big house, in general population." *as quoted from cnn.com.
For the record, and for the sake of complete disclosure, I voted for C. Ray Nagin... twice! As is the motto of the the Anti Defamation League, "Never again!"
C. Ray's actual quote goes thusly: "Anybody who's caught looting in the city of New Orleans will go directly to Angola [Louisiana State Penitentiary]. You will not have a temporary stay in the city. You go directly to the big house, in general population." *as quoted from cnn.com.
For the record, and for the sake of complete disclosure, I voted for C. Ray Nagin... twice! As is the motto of the the Anti Defamation League, "Never again!"
1:34 PM A Desolate Run
I just got back from one of the most desolate runs I've ever been on in an urban area, certainly the most desolate, in terms of people, I've ever been on in uptown New Orleans. I'm including the time two weeks after Katrina, a time when I ran all over this city, a city broken beyond belief and with a very uncertain future. Then, early post-Katrina, there were reporters everywhere, heavily armed National Guard patrols cruising around in dessert cammo Humvees on nearly every street, police, NOPD and sub-contractors, criss crossing at what seemed like every other block. FEMA hired contractors clearing debris were swarming. Entergy and other out of town electric power providers had trucks zigging and zagging systematically covering the shattered power grid. Things were AFU (all fucked up). But there were many people and vehicles on the streets. This run was more desolate than that. There were very few cars on the streets, a few law enforcement patrol cars from varied jurisdictions, and a few folks who were driving like they were either late for work or late for a hot date. I saw seven other people out in Audubon Park, five of them walking leisurely together, and two young men running — an extremely meager showing for midday on a Sunday afternoon in the park.
The light has seemed to have stabilized. The yellow hue unchanged from a few hours earlier. The noon sun muted and filtered through fast moving clouds traveling their circulatory route. The wind ebbing and flowing, increasing gusts punctuated by short, syncopated periods of increasing breeze. The cicadas are resolute, their screaching rising and falling like a rolling sea, defiant, in the face of the the approaching chaos. I saw a group (unsure of the proper term) of crows, nine of them, in Audubon park. They were all silent. They were all standing on the ground. My great grandfather, Ledoux Gremillion, told me many years ago that if you see a crow on the ground it's going to rain. I'm pretty sure that's a good bet this time.
I'm getting hungry. I'm not really spooked yet. I've got good shelter, lots of water and food, a full tank of gas, lots of books, my art supplies, my guitar... I'm all set for the basics. I can definitely amuse myself. I'm nearly at the point of showering, cracking a beer, eating, and waiting, waiting for Gustav, which is, I'm sure, exactly like Waiting for Godot, only completely different.
I also have a constant stream of doom and gloom coming in over the radio waves to keep me company. One of the things I love the local AM radio station, WWL 870, a truly awesome source for news and talk, due to their seven jillion watt transmitter that can be heard several states away, is that they not only bring up to date news to the people, passing on very valuable and critical information. They also put callers on the air to report traffic and conditions from the field. As my friend George would say, "Let me just put it like this..." Most folks simply should not be on the radio. I also think that WWL AM generally does a really good job. But for the next few hours, the relaxing and waiting time, I think I'll listen to some music. Miles Davis, Bitches Brew ... yeah you right!
The light has seemed to have stabilized. The yellow hue unchanged from a few hours earlier. The noon sun muted and filtered through fast moving clouds traveling their circulatory route. The wind ebbing and flowing, increasing gusts punctuated by short, syncopated periods of increasing breeze. The cicadas are resolute, their screaching rising and falling like a rolling sea, defiant, in the face of the the approaching chaos. I saw a group (unsure of the proper term) of crows, nine of them, in Audubon park. They were all silent. They were all standing on the ground. My great grandfather, Ledoux Gremillion, told me many years ago that if you see a crow on the ground it's going to rain. I'm pretty sure that's a good bet this time.
I'm getting hungry. I'm not really spooked yet. I've got good shelter, lots of water and food, a full tank of gas, lots of books, my art supplies, my guitar... I'm all set for the basics. I can definitely amuse myself. I'm nearly at the point of showering, cracking a beer, eating, and waiting, waiting for Gustav, which is, I'm sure, exactly like Waiting for Godot, only completely different.
I also have a constant stream of doom and gloom coming in over the radio waves to keep me company. One of the things I love the local AM radio station, WWL 870, a truly awesome source for news and talk, due to their seven jillion watt transmitter that can be heard several states away, is that they not only bring up to date news to the people, passing on very valuable and critical information. They also put callers on the air to report traffic and conditions from the field. As my friend George would say, "Let me just put it like this..." Most folks simply should not be on the radio. I also think that WWL AM generally does a really good job. But for the next few hours, the relaxing and waiting time, I think I'll listen to some music. Miles Davis, Bitches Brew ... yeah you right!
"a toxic soup"
"a toxic soup inundating ..." something or other. This is just a snippet of the fear-invoking rhetoric that's become ubiquitous on the radio coverage of the impending hurricane Gustav. It's mostly the local and municipal politicians who are preaching doom and gloom. Make no mistake. This storm definitely has the potential to be just as bad as Katrina in terms of damage and destruction and loss of life. This storm is definitely going to fuck some shit up. Y'erd me?
But once our leaders tell us how bad the storm's going to be, once we gather constantly breaking information about the storm, information that is, at this point, everywhere and impossible to avoid, once we know that this storm is going to be a monster of a reminder of the awesome power of mother nature and we shouldn't hang around to see it first hand, they should lay off. I'm a big advocate of "good information." And I fully realize that sometimes "You're screwed, dude!" is good information. But I don't think that striking fear in the general populace is good for the collective psyche, nor can it be very productive. Stick to the rational explanations and allows us as responsible citizens to make good critical decisions. Quit trying to scare us. This storm is already scary enough on its own.
But once our leaders tell us how bad the storm's going to be, once we gather constantly breaking information about the storm, information that is, at this point, everywhere and impossible to avoid, once we know that this storm is going to be a monster of a reminder of the awesome power of mother nature and we shouldn't hang around to see it first hand, they should lay off. I'm a big advocate of "good information." And I fully realize that sometimes "You're screwed, dude!" is good information. But I don't think that striking fear in the general populace is good for the collective psyche, nor can it be very productive. Stick to the rational explanations and allows us as responsible citizens to make good critical decisions. Quit trying to scare us. This storm is already scary enough on its own.
11:50 AM
The cicadas are screaming their nails-on-a-blackboard song. The wind is cycling back and forth between gusts and lulls in a crescendo of moving air, the vanguard of the approaching Gustav. The birds are all but silent. A screaming blue jay is the only avian voice to punctuate the cicada chorale. The light is getting yellower and yellower. There are few cars on the road, most of which are sporting some variation of a flashing light. There are even fewer cars parked on the streets. Things here are beginning to get eerie.
I just got back from clearing out the fridges of some friends in the neighborhood. I scored pretty good, lots of perishables I can try to get through before it all melts or spoils. I have at least five days worth of ready to eat, low intensity preparation foods. I also have enough fresh basil to make a large batch of pesto. I love me some pesto! I also got a few more beers and a couple of bottles of wine to compliment my already impressive collection of spirits.
I'm going to go for a little run shortly to do some reconnaissance.
I just got back from clearing out the fridges of some friends in the neighborhood. I scored pretty good, lots of perishables I can try to get through before it all melts or spoils. I have at least five days worth of ready to eat, low intensity preparation foods. I also have enough fresh basil to make a large batch of pesto. I love me some pesto! I also got a few more beers and a couple of bottles of wine to compliment my already impressive collection of spirits.
I'm going to go for a little run shortly to do some reconnaissance.
8/31/08 9:45 AM: Gustav Approaches
I'm staying. I am not evacuating. Hurricane Gustav is currently a strong category 3 hurricane. Hurricane Gustav seems to be headed straight to New Orleans. Hurricane Gustav is expected to wreak havoc on our still recovering, still reeling, still teetering city. The entire area is under evacuation orders. But I'm staying.
I'll post as often as possible until the power goes out. Once the power's out I'll take hand written notes and post as soon as possible. I also have a camera and will post photos as well.
Some context: I live uptown, at 626 Webster St., roughly between Magazine St. and Tchoupitoulas St. I live downstairs in an large, old, wood frame, stucco home that has been converted to a four-plex. My doors and windows are very sheltered. I have access to three other homes within a mile of here, two of which are with two blocks. I've got over 30 gallons of fresh water and the full assortment of storm supplies and non-perishables. I know it will be a rough ride. But I also know that I need to be here to see it. I know I'll be OK.
The wind is beginning to pick up and get a little blustery, nothing ominous, just some soft, puffy, oscillating gusts. What is ominous is the light. The light, the interplay between sun and clouds, before a storm like this, gets oddly yellow. That meterological juandice has set in and is getting progressively more yellow.
I have things to take care of now. I'll write more shortly.
I'll post as often as possible until the power goes out. Once the power's out I'll take hand written notes and post as soon as possible. I also have a camera and will post photos as well.
Some context: I live uptown, at 626 Webster St., roughly between Magazine St. and Tchoupitoulas St. I live downstairs in an large, old, wood frame, stucco home that has been converted to a four-plex. My doors and windows are very sheltered. I have access to three other homes within a mile of here, two of which are with two blocks. I've got over 30 gallons of fresh water and the full assortment of storm supplies and non-perishables. I know it will be a rough ride. But I also know that I need to be here to see it. I know I'll be OK.
The wind is beginning to pick up and get a little blustery, nothing ominous, just some soft, puffy, oscillating gusts. What is ominous is the light. The light, the interplay between sun and clouds, before a storm like this, gets oddly yellow. That meterological juandice has set in and is getting progressively more yellow.
I have things to take care of now. I'll write more shortly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
