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!