Oh man, oh man, oh man.



This whole thing is heartbreaking. I'm not sure New Orleans will recover or if it's even wise to rebuild in the same place. The human and monetary costs are staggering, and I also mourn the loss of the architecture and vitality of that city. It was beautiful, though poor, and funky.

Here's my personal history of New Orleans:

I was there once, for about twenty-four hours. It was my last overnight stay in a city during my 1979 rail adventure. I headed into NO from New York on a train I believe was named the Silver Crescent. Since I was leaving New York I was, of course, flat broke. I had a canteen filled with Myer's Rum and water and survived on a few sandwiches I bought in the club car.

It was a delightful journey, though, and gave me my first-ever look at Alabama and the red dirt of Georgia. I learned about kudzu and was happy, though broke. The bridge into New Orleans caught me by surprise, but it was a great ride over all that water. That same water that's now threatening everything in the town.

When I arrived in New Orleans I needed a place to stay. I considered camping out in the train station, but decided to stay overnight at the YMCA. I'd never stayed in a Y before (or, since), but I knew it was cheap. I wasn't worried about anything else, and up for the novel adventure.

The man who signed me in may or may not have asked any questions. If he did, I answered them correctly, but I was focusing more on his lack of legs and hook. He gave me a key and I proceeded upstairs to find a tiny cubicle which I would call home for the next day.

I quickly tired of the cell and went out to see what New Orleans was like. I bought some horribly strong Picayune cigarettes and found a bar where I sat, talked, and drank Dixie beer. I remember banging away at cockroaches on the bar with the stamped metal ashtray and picked up a few cans to take back to my "room."

The next morning I remember smiling while I showered. I was alone but kept thinking about "dropping the soap." I actually think I did once, but survived intact.

Following that, I took a little ride around the town on some tram thing. I don't think it was pulled by a horse, but it followed a track up and down and around. I passed a great number of restaurants and, when the ride was over, went back to one and had some jumbalaya or gumbo or something like that. I remember having to pick carefully because I was allergic to shellfish, the most prevalent ingredient.

I went back to the train station and got a picture of a guy I'd been talking with. He looked as if he was fleeing, which I thought was funny, but the picture was a slide so I can't upload it.

I made my way onto the Sunset Limited and left New Orleans, never to return.

Oh man, oh man, oh man.



This whole thing is heartbreaking. I'm not sure New Orleans will recover or if it's even wise to rebuild in the same place. The human and monetary costs are staggering, and I also mourn the loss of the architecture and vitality of that city. It was beautiful, though poor, and funky.

Here's my personal history of New Orleans:

I was there once, for about twenty-four hours. It was my last overnight stay in a city during my 1979 rail adventure. I headed into NO from New York on a train I believe was named the Silver Crescent. Since I was leaving New York I was, of course, flat broke. I had a canteen filled with Myer's Rum and water and survived on a few sandwiches I bought in the club car.

It was a delightful journey, though, and gave me my first-ever look at Alabama and the red dirt of Georgia. I learned about kudzu and was happy, though broke. The bridge into New Orleans caught me by surprise, but it was a great ride over all that water. That same water that's now threatening everything in the town.

When I arrived in New Orleans I needed a place to stay. I considered camping out in the train station, but decided to stay overnight at the YMCA. I'd never stayed in a Y before (or, since), but I knew it was cheap. I wasn't worried about anything else, and up for the novel adventure.

The man who signed me in may or may not have asked any questions. If he did, I answered them correctly, but I was focusing more on his lack of legs and hook. He gave me a key and I proceeded upstairs to find a tiny cubicle which I would call home for the next day.

I quickly tired of the cell and went out to see what New Orleans was like. I bought some horribly strong Picayune cigarettes and found a bar where I sat, talked, and drank Dixie beer. I remember banging away at cockroaches on the bar with the stamped metal ashtray and picked up a few cans to take back to my "room."

The next morning I remember smiling while I showered. I was alone but kept thinking about "dropping the soap." I actually think I did once, but survived intact.

Following that, I took a little ride around the town on some tram thing. I don't think it was pulled by a horse, but it followed a track up and down and around. I passed a great number of restaurants and, when the ride was over, went back to one and had some jumbalaya or gumbo or something like that. I remember having to pick carefully because I was allergic to shellfish, the most prevalent ingredient.

I went back to the train station and got a picture of a guy I'd been talking with. He looked as if he was fleeing, which I thought was funny, but the picture was a slide so I can't upload it.

I made my way onto the Sunset Limited and left New Orleans, never to return.

I feel horrible about today's tragedy in and east of New Orleans. I expect the casulties to near 1,000, and regret the death of so many who were too poor, too sick, or too invalid to follow the orders to evacuate. I have far less compassion for those who chose to wave their dicks at nature in a show of bravado or hubris and can't quite understand why they'd live in an area where this happens once or twice a lifetime. Some part or other of the southeast gets whacked every year by a hurricane and every spot is vulnerable.

Still, when it comes to penis waving, I have to say one of my greater joys is watching hurricane coverage. I could watch those reporters in their slickers all day and never grow tired. It must be the ultimate act of deluded self-importance to think we viewers, somehow, learn anything from watching someone blown around. We've seen what it looks like to try to stand in high winds and nothing is gained by showing us some other fool in some other hotel parking lot, or risk another photographer's life by asking him or her to show us what a tree looks like bending in the wind.

We've seen the pictures hundreds of times, and they never change, nor do they very often show us anything remotely interesting. Oooh! A plastic bag or shingle flying in the air! I just watch, transfixed and smiling, while these bozos try to make news out of it. This isn't news, we won't know anything for hours, it's just a show.

Last night the Weather Channel was interesting. While Katrina grew in strength and intensity, only the female anchors could stand in front of the weather maps. If one of the guys their erections would have confused us about where they were pointing. As it was, as long as the women wore black and kept their backs away from us we couldn't see how wet they were becoming from the thrill that was evident from everyone's voices.

This morning, to my delight, men and women in rain gear. Here are some notes I made while watching while the storm hit the land. One thing about 24 hour news coverage is plain: news doesn't happen that quickly, so they have a lot of time for improvising. It's not surprising, but still funny, that given five minutes to provide ten second's worth of reporting, they babble on and say some of the least profound and more insipid drivel I've heard in my life. They not only state the obvious, they seem enthralled by it.

First, I have to admit that I got suckered into these weather events whenever they happen. Also, that I'm invariably disappointed: they're never as disastrous as predicted, they never live up to the hype. Before it hit, the people on the Weather Channel were talking about 150Mph winds and "sea walls" of thirty feet, but now that it's here, the hurricane is much more modest than that.

In the Superdome some minor damage in the roof led to a leak. Wisely, those in charge led those affected to a drier spot. I can only wonder how long those being dripped on would have suffered if the people in charge hadn't helped them.

The TV pictures show water on the street, trees blowing, and cheap-ass corrugated roofs being blown off. This isn't news. The best part, though, is the reporters covered in LL Bean heavy jackets with hoods talking about the dangers and horrible conditions while in the background families walk around in T-shirts smiling.

And, those in the studio continually beseeching the reporters to "stay safe." I'm sure survival is a foreign concept to these intrepid souls, and nothing is more patronizing then to tell someone you think they're too dumb to stay alive.

Speaking of, two fatalities in Florida from people running generators inside their homes. Even leaving aside the stupidity of running an internal combustion engine inside, how can you do that? Wouldn't the noise itself cause you to toss the damn thing outside?

More broken windows and trees. Fluttering street signs. No one would expect that.

In the city of Houston...Free Parking! for anyone displaying a Louisiana license plate!

"the big threat is wind damage"
That would never have occurred to me. Thanks!

Live, real time, unscripted news reports reinforces my belief that most of us, in spite of training, have a firm grasp of the obvious. I wouldn't be any better at speaking off the top my head, so what qualifies these people?

"It actually hurts to stand out here because the wind's blowing so hard sometimes"

"It looks like that Nissan sign is getting ready to go"

"you can see the flag ripping in the wind there"

"certainly some areas have gotten hit very hard now"

"we don't even know what's happening, to be honest"

"to be quite frank we scrambled for our lives"

"...trees uprooted...debris on the ground"

about that wrap-around sign (the Nissan one): "you can forget that baby"

"we've seen some corrugated aluminum being blown off"

"our STB technology" Fine, your tech for filming and transmitting the report has a name. How is it different from anything else? Why should I be impressed with a series of random letters?

"you can hear the debris flying in the wind" Oh, really?

"[Mike Majonos], as a Fema housing inspector, what will your job be once the storm passes?"

Kim Kurtz (Firth) WKRG (webcast reporter) swears like a sailor, or her camerman does.

"so many things that you don't realize can hurt you at 105mph certainly will"

'when I was a kid I used to love riding my bike through that water, but we now know that it's unhealthy so don't do it" This is unbelivable. What kind of an ass would say this? Is he rubbing his youthful joys in the faces of today's miserable kids? Is this a joy so ripe with danger that it surprises the scientists the human race survived? Will his children ever be able to have any fun? Or, should I be impressed by what a little daredevil he was?

Bush comes on, in someplace sunny. He says the gov't will do more later, after the storm passes, but right now he's urging us all to pray. I'll have to write him, see how that plan of his worked out.

Whatever happened to the good old days when the leader was so strong with good mojo that if he allowed something like this to happen, his power over the gods and nature was seen as suspect and he was run out of the village, fleeing for his life?

"this storm is causing a significant amount of damage in Mobile, in fact you may have seen my hat blow off"

Neulasta ads ... if I'm stricken with cancer the last thing I'll be doing is recommending to my doctor what medications I should take. I'm pretty sure it's *his* job to tell me, not the other way around.

"Killer on the move, that's Katrina" -- Wolf Blitzer
"What an awful, awful hurricane" -- Wolf Blitzer
"What a pretensious, pompous ass this Wolf Blitzer is" -- Russ Kremer

I feel horrible about today's tragedy in and east of New Orleans. I expect the casulties to near 1,000, and regret the death of so many who were too poor, too sick, or too invalid to follow the orders to evacuate. I have far less compassion for those who chose to wave their dicks at nature in a show of bravado or hubris and can't quite understand why they'd live in an area where this happens once or twice a lifetime. Some part or other of the southeast gets whacked every year by a hurricane and every spot is vulnerable.

Still, when it comes to penis waving, I have to say one of my greater joys is watching hurricane coverage. I could watch those reporters in their slickers all day and never grow tired. It must be the ultimate act of deluded self-importance to think we viewers, somehow, learn anything from watching someone blown around. We've seen what it looks like to try to stand in high winds and nothing is gained by showing us some other fool in some other hotel parking lot, or risk another photographer's life by asking him or her to show us what a tree looks like bending in the wind.

We've seen the pictures hundreds of times, and they never change, nor do they very often show us anything remotely interesting. Oooh! A plastic bag or shingle flying in the air! I just watch, transfixed and smiling, while these bozos try to make news out of it. This isn't news, we won't know anything for hours, it's just a show.

Last night the Weather Channel was interesting. While Katrina grew in strength and intensity, only the female anchors could stand in front of the weather maps. If one of the guys their erections would have confused us about where they were pointing. As it was, as long as the women wore black and kept their backs away from us we couldn't see how wet they were becoming from the thrill that was evident from everyone's voices.

This morning, to my delight, men and women in rain gear. Here are some notes I made while watching while the storm hit the land. One thing about 24 hour news coverage is plain: news doesn't happen that quickly, so they have a lot of time for improvising. It's not surprising, but still funny, that given five minutes to provide ten second's worth of reporting, they babble on and say some of the least profound and more insipid drivel I've heard in my life. They not only state the obvious, they seem enthralled by it.

First, I have to admit that I got suckered into these weather events whenever they happen. Also, that I'm invariably disappointed: they're never as disastrous as predicted, they never live up to the hype. Before it hit, the people on the Weather Channel were talking about 150Mph winds and "sea walls" of thirty feet, but now that it's here, the hurricane is much more modest than that.

In the Superdome some minor damage in the roof led to a leak. Wisely, those in charge led those affected to a drier spot. I can only wonder how long those being dripped on would have suffered if the people in charge hadn't helped them.

The TV pictures show water on the street, trees blowing, and cheap-ass corrugated roofs being blown off. This isn't news. The best part, though, is the reporters covered in LL Bean heavy jackets with hoods talking about the dangers and horrible conditions while in the background families walk around in T-shirts smiling.

And, those in the studio continually beseeching the reporters to "stay safe." I'm sure survival is a foreign concept to these intrepid souls, and nothing is more patronizing then to tell someone you think they're too dumb to stay alive.

Speaking of, two fatalities in Florida from people running generators inside their homes. Even leaving aside the stupidity of running an internal combustion engine inside, how can you do that? Wouldn't the noise itself cause you to toss the damn thing outside?

More broken windows and trees. Fluttering street signs. No one would expect that.

In the city of Houston...Free Parking! for anyone displaying a Louisiana license plate!

"the big threat is wind damage"
That would never have occurred to me. Thanks!

Live, real time, unscripted news reports reinforces my belief that most of us, in spite of training, have a firm grasp of the obvious. I wouldn't be any better at speaking off the top my head, so what qualifies these people?

"It actually hurts to stand out here because the wind's blowing so hard sometimes"

"It looks like that Nissan sign is getting ready to go"

"you can see the flag ripping in the wind there"

"certainly some areas have gotten hit very hard now"

"we don't even know what's happening, to be honest"

"to be quite frank we scrambled for our lives"

"...trees uprooted...debris on the ground"

about that wrap-around sign (the Nissan one): "you can forget that baby"

"we've seen some corrugated aluminum being blown off"

"our STB technology" Fine, your tech for filming and transmitting the report has a name. How is it different from anything else? Why should I be impressed with a series of random letters?

"you can hear the debris flying in the wind" Oh, really?

"[Mike Majonos], as a Fema housing inspector, what will your job be once the storm passes?"

Kim Kurtz (Firth) WKRG (webcast reporter) swears like a sailor, or her camerman does.

"so many things that you don't realize can hurt you at 105mph certainly will"

'when I was a kid I used to love riding my bike through that water, but we now know that it's unhealthy so don't do it" This is unbelivable. What kind of an ass would say this? Is he rubbing his youthful joys in the faces of today's miserable kids? Is this a joy so ripe with danger that it surprises the scientists the human race survived? Will his children ever be able to have any fun? Or, should I be impressed by what a little daredevil he was?

Bush comes on, in someplace sunny. He says the gov't will do more later, after the storm passes, but right now he's urging us all to pray. I'll have to write him, see how that plan of his worked out.

Whatever happened to the good old days when the leader was so strong with good mojo that if he allowed something like this to happen, his power over the gods and nature was seen as suspect and he was run out of the village, fleeing for his life?

"this storm is causing a significant amount of damage in Mobile, in fact you may have seen my hat blow off"

Neulasta ads ... if I'm stricken with cancer the last thing I'll be doing is recommending to my doctor what medications I should take. I'm pretty sure it's *his* job to tell me, not the other way around.

"Killer on the move, that's Katrina" -- Wolf Blitzer
"What an awful, awful hurricane" -- Wolf Blitzer
"What a pretensious, pompous ass this Wolf Blitzer is" -- Russ Kremer

I remember it exactly, tho not the precise date. I was attending a convention in Las Vegas and had spent the day on my feet looking at exhibits and picking up swag. Walking back to my hotel it felt as if my socks were folded inside my shoes in spite of looking just fine.

When I got back to my room I saw that I'd developed some large blisters under thick callouses and did what I could with a needle from the sewing kit I travel with.

That needle is to sew buttons and things back on, something I never do at home but always seems like something I'd do in a hotel room. Thus, the clothing that needs buttons optimistically travels with me but is never repaired. Same with stacks of unread mail I keep meaning to look at.

Leaving the clothes unmended and the mail stacked, I ventured forth to solve my foot dilemna. The next day, you see, would require every bit as much walking as the first. My plan was twofold: buy some thick, fluffy socks, and some new shoes.

The socks I bought weren't fluffy, but did say "Coke" on them, as did the T-Shirt, but on the socks it's written in English, not Korean. The shoes I picked came from a Timberland store and, to be precise, are hiking boots. I hadn't been hiking in over five years, I remember that, and the other thing I realized as I bought them was that these would likely be the last pair of hiking boots I would buy. I wouldn't use them up, I would never need another pair. They would outlive me.

For the first time, ever, I had a gut-wrenching sense of my mortality that I could point to. I was on the downhill side of life.

It's not that bad a thing, really, and I see it as liberating. When I was in my twenties I had nothing and had to acquire it all. When I got my first real office job I knew I had to buy "slacks" but had no idea what they were. It seems I spent half my life filling these needs ("I need a cold chisel...throw rugs...end table...DVD player"), but after a time I have the things I need. That's the thing about being middle-aged: I no longer need to buy everything, some of it I already have.

I never realized when I was twenty that I'd ever have things checked off. It never occurred to me. Bit by bit I accumulated the things required in this society and, of course, now I find I have way too much.

While I'll never know when I've bought my last pair of socks or ream of paper, odds are I won't need any more three-hole punches.

Ever.

I remember it exactly, tho not the precise date. I was attending a convention in Las Vegas and had spent the day on my feet looking at exhibits and picking up swag. Walking back to my hotel it felt as if my socks were folded inside my shoes in spite of looking just fine.

When I got back to my room I saw that I'd developed some large blisters under thick callouses and did what I could with a needle from the sewing kit I travel with.

That needle is to sew buttons and things back on, something I never do at home but always seems like something I'd do in a hotel room. Thus, the clothing that needs buttons optimistically travels with me but is never repaired. Same with stacks of unread mail I keep meaning to look at.

Leaving the clothes unmended and the mail stacked, I ventured forth to solve my foot dilemna. The next day, you see, would require every bit as much walking as the first. My plan was twofold: buy some thick, fluffy socks, and some new shoes.

The socks I bought weren't fluffy, but did say "Coke" on them, as did the T-Shirt, but on the socks it's written in English, not Korean. The shoes I picked came from a Timberland store and, to be precise, are hiking boots. I hadn't been hiking in over five years, I remember that, and the other thing I realized as I bought them was that these would likely be the last pair of hiking boots I would buy. I wouldn't use them up, I would never need another pair. They would outlive me.

For the first time, ever, I had a gut-wrenching sense of my mortality that I could point to. I was on the downhill side of life.

It's not that bad a thing, really, and I see it as liberating. When I was in my twenties I had nothing and had to acquire it all. When I got my first real office job I knew I had to buy "slacks" but had no idea what they were. It seems I spent half my life filling these needs ("I need a cold chisel...throw rugs...end table...DVD player"), but after a time I have the things I need. That's the thing about being middle-aged: I no longer need to buy everything, some of it I already have.

I never realized when I was twenty that I'd ever have things checked off. It never occurred to me. Bit by bit I accumulated the things required in this society and, of course, now I find I have way too much.

While I'll never know when I've bought my last pair of socks or ream of paper, odds are I won't need any more three-hole punches.

Ever.

It's inexplicable, but the city's cutting a swath through the residential area I call home. Sure, I could probably ask someone "what's up?" or write a letter, but right now I can only guess. I prefer having mysteries. It's the questions, you see, that are interesting. Once they get answers my response is often "oh."

What's been happening the past few days is this: one unmarked pickup with a yellow light, one cherry-picker with a guy up top with a chain saw, two backhoes, and a large dump truck show up. The guy in the cherry picker starts hacking away at tree limbs, the pickup empties of guys who gather them up, and the backhoes start trundling them to the dump truck. The cherry picker moves on, as does everyone except the dumptruck, who stays in a central location.

The guys on the ground are wearing orange, just like city workers or prisoners, but I haven't seen any logos or decals on anything. These aren't city trees, or trees on city property, and the work seems fairly haphazard. My neighbor's trees got the treatment Tue or Wed, and I thought they'd hired some tree surgeons. But over the past few days I've seen the trucks, the tracks of the backhoes on the streets, and evidence of trimmed trees up and down all the nearby blocks.

The trees hit are close to sidewalks, never ones near the homes nor in the center of lawns. I don't know, but wonder, if it's because of trash trucks hitting the trees or whatnot. I've never seen the city come and randomly prune anyone's private tree before, so maybe it's just "Gardener Rodriguez" getting a response to all those cards he keeps littering my porch with.

Oddest thing I've seen. Some trees get it, some don't. They're doing a good job, whoever they are, and as I write this I realize this entry is just calling out for a pic or two.

I wonder who will cry out for the trees of Westchester?