Welcome to NOLA

Today I ended my LDR and moved to New Orleans full time; my brother welcomed me with open arms.

free food

Five of us just pulled a week's worth of food out of the food salvage container behind Winn Dixie: bread, flowers, beans, TOMATOES , lemons, parsley, lettuce, waffles. Also from the food salvage containers at Pizza Hut and Papa Johns: 8-10 pizzas and one box of cheesy bread. Then from some other containers on veteran's blvd: 7 very large plastic bins, 3 power strips, a tree planter, a picture frame and a mirror star. We skitched the non-food home in the planter. Only one regret: no chocolate easter bunnies this time...

Sorry I haven't called you...

My northern brethren,
it's not you, it's me: busy.
I promise we'll talk...
eventually.

[title]

When life is easy,
it's hard to have self control.
[word word; word word word.]

lowernine.org

Two Saturdays ago Craig and I moved to a different organization. The church volunteer center was based in a large, mostly finished space, pretty far uptown in a nice neighborhood. It had an established bureaucracy that we had to work through to stay there and there were lots of rules and policies in place while we were there. Our work was scheduled out and parceled off to different organizations. Lowernine.org is based in a small, unfinished house all the way down in the lower ninth ward. We stopped by one afternoon two weeks ago and arranged to stay here; though we were told to fill out and email in applications as well, it was more of a formality. The work here is all rebuilding homes within walking distance of the headquarters. Leadership roles have been designated but the atmosphere is very relaxed and even some essential roles are filled charismatically rather than officially. Living and working here for the last week and a half has been hard, much harder than the work at the church. We work full days doing home rebuilding work, mostly drywall installation. Last week, eating and sleeping were irregular: we moved our beds three times and on Saturday, our friend took us to the food salvage location to pick up free food (and flowers). When it's not raining, we hang out on the street, shooting hoops and smoking; and by 'we' I mean everyone but me; I just hang out in the street. This place is awesome and you should donate money to it: lowernine.org; the founder, Rick Prose, just said: "We're the future baby!"

a couplet in abrogation of a hasty publication

Commemoration is now anachronistic.
That view of things was a bit too simplistic.

Awesomeest Dinner Service Ever

Craig and I cooked dinner for seven tonight and served it at location Blue. We just made pasta with an onion-and-broccoli red sauce but it was awesome; the food and the location. The sauce, which was all Craig, was hearty and delicious and very well received; the location, which was all me, was literally awesome but a bit uncomfortable despite the table and chairs and full place-settings. If only it weren't so cold, and so the-day-after-Mardi-Gras, people might have stayed longer: we had wine and coffee and ice cream (alcohol, caffeine, sugar, and saturated fat) that we didn't even break into, or that we should have broken into earlier depending on how I look at it. The reason we were at location Blue in the first place is that none of us volunteers have housing where we can plan to entertain guests; other people's rules and other people's irritable dispositions have great sway over our livelihoods and living situations and thus over our social lives. I guess that is kind of what we signed on for: to do good work while living in shitty conditions. Anyways, I was really pleased to work as a team with my brother to do something cool for our friends-all that remains to be done is a sinkful of dishes.

Parades are Free

Muses, the women's parade, was the best street party I've ever been to. You know, up in Boston I never understood the point of parades: just standing there, trying to see shit that is not that awesome anyways. But being on a super tight budget down here has really made me notice that parades have one huge thing going for them: freedom. And rather than be scared by the crowd and worried about being in other people's way, I've felt free to join in the spirit of Carnival: a participatory, freeing state of mind. Americans are so obsessed with safety, which half the time just means comfort: 'I'm not comfortable with that, it must be unsafe...' I wonder where we all got the idea that we're entitled to a roving bubble of comfort. I wonder where we all got the idea that our very presence anywhere public or private entitles us to shut down what we find uncomfortable in that place. I wonder where we all got the idea that we have the right to be safe without having to lift a finger to protect ourselves. I can't tell you how many times someone skeptically eyed me and said, 'If you swing those beads into me, it's gonna be bad news.' And I replied, 'Please just don't walk into the beads!' Because Whatever! Beads cant fucking kill you, they can hardly hurt you; your comfort bubble is fucking disbanded here. This is a parade; this is fun; this is free; you can go home if you need to be comfortable. Seriously dude, lady, drunk parent with tired child: Whatever. It's Fucking Carnival.

a couplet in commemoration of a lost friendship

I thought what we had was unconditional.
But now, turns out, it's a lot more traditional.
(what the fuck?)