Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Proof of Life

It is that time of year again.

There are tropical waves in the Atlantic basin. Rising Tide 9 has opened registration for this year's conference. UNO is seeking submissions for a book on post-Katrina writing.

“If you wrote, or remember reading, blogs/posts that should not be missed—because they crystallized the particular challenges of post-Katrina life, or maybe even inspired action for addressing them—I want to hear from you,”- Cynthia Joyce

That's how it starts. Scrolling through the Rising Tide archives and catch glimpses of Ashley fighting with the sound board, Greg chuckling at his own subversive (and wildly inappropriate) jokes, and Morwen's soft and resolute lines of questioning. Trying to recall who all took shots off that ski in the yacht club. Dusting off that copy of A Howling in the Wires - the first real attempt at an anthology I was aware of - thinking of that night at Mimi's where it seemed everyone got a turn at the microphone before anyone believed a noise ordinance might really shut the music down.

Times like these are for going back through the archives. Bouncing from weblog to weblog, finding out which ones are still active, which ones still have links going all the way back. There are posts there you remember reading the day they published, there are posts there you see for the first time. See how many have changed over the years.* Those that are already gone provide some scope of how easy it is to lose our own history, how fragile it is to capture.

I wish Ms. Joyce well. I think it is important work.

For myself, when I do this, around this time every year, I usually start as far back as possible. Back when I didn't really have the sense of how to pay attention to stuff like this. That's where I find the most work I missed - that time where so much of the writing sounded like it was looking for or giving proof of life.

After a catastostrophic event and the ongoing catastrophic aftermath, bathing in the nude in front of the house is quite liberating after the first few minutes... I don't recommend this for all catastrophic events - preferably one where most people have evacuated... pick and choose your event carefully. - Gulfsails, September 2005 
These people have shocked me out of my delusional complacency, we are not fine down here. All is not well - but there are these bright pockets where, with no better way to put it and apologizing beforehand for the mellodrama... God sleeps on a cot in a Winn-Dixie parking lot caring for kittens.  - Gulfsails, October 2005 

Of Men in Trucks & Mardi Gras:
They run red lights and stop signs and turn in front of you like you’re not there. They have no use for civil society. I’m glad they’re here–a nice pair of them gutted my mama’s house–but I can’t wait ’til they’re fucking gone. - G-Bitch, December 2005  
I love Mardi Gras only slightly less than Jazz Fest. My priority today was not grading the 23 essays I received Friday. (to clear my plate for the 20 I receive Monday) or the 4 lesson plans I need by Monday morning or getting my office computer to my office space or the pre-midterm alerts to students at risk of failing—it was getting to the grocery store, before parades trap me in my home, to lay in supplies for a weekend of parades and grilling and drinking. I’m a New Orleanian with New Orleanian priorities. - G-Bitch, February 2006
Prescient visions of Dizneylandrieu:
Imagine if you will a New Orleans without Mardi Gras Indians; without neighborhoods where young boys actually want to learn to play the trombone, so they can march proudly at the head of the parade; without the little neighborhood restaurants where Creole cooking was perfected before we gave it to the world; without the little bars where every generation of musicians have played for a circle of friends and neighbors before they took our music into the world. - Wet Bank Guide, September 2005
Hearing about seven fatal stress related heart attacks, in people ranging from 83 to 20, over the course of three days is overwhelming. These seven came from every ethnic and socio-economic group. The stress is an equal opportunity killer, it seems. When you see all the reports about structures and dollars, please remember the humans involved. They seem to be getting lost in the shuffle now that they're off the roofs and off your TV screens. - NOLA Slate, March 2006
This picture. Christmas 2005.

When people visited. This could have been written at any time in the last 9 years.
I managed to hold it together enough to communicate how difficult it was for people to rebuild in these areas that the city, the state, the country was willing to write off before I dropped my charges off at the edge of the French Quarter. I’ve been racking my brains ever since for the reasons why this particular tour felt different from many others I’ve given since we moved back to New Orleans in 2006. Not too long ago, I complained that New Orleans since the levee breaches had become a cause, not a city. I think now that I was wrong. - Liprap on Humid City, April, 2012
Song references.
Emmylou Harris once said on "A Prairie Home Companion" that she wrote to Pete Seeger when she was much younger, telling him she didn't feel she could be a folksinger because she hadn't suffered enough. 
Seeger's one word response was, "Wait." - Liprap, November 2006

(*What the heck is this?)