Little Ditty.
You know, the more I write about certain major life experiences, the more my current life experiences seem to resemble them.
As I rewrote Post-Apocalypse for the last time, I experienced three shorts in the electrical wiring at my NYC apartment, leading to three power failures & typing in the dark, plus fire hazards galore. Having seen my car on CNN as St. Andrew St., New Orleans burned two houses back that September ’05, well, I have developed a healthy fear of fire.
Living in a flame-prone neighborhood, I wasn’t only being paranoid in racing back to check on my cat each time I heard sirens screaming toward St. Mary St, back in that day. My building there didn’t catch fire, but William’s did, as I learned from one of the more jarring text messages I’ve ever received: My apartment burnt down. I’m out on the curb with Bonaparte and my laptop.
These are not life experiences you just get over.
The next week into my Post-Apocalypse rewrite, my wall began disintegrating due to a leak upstairs, since fixed. To identify the origin of the leak, the super tore a huge hole in the wall that I had to fight and threaten to get repaired, just like with the hole in my kitchen floor on St. Mary, which was never fixed, only covered.
America has infrastructure issues.
I was in Diamondhead, Mississippi five years ago today, taking free refuge—the only kind I could afford—at a friend's parents' house, with my refuge being not from Katrina, of course, but from a city that would not be offering 911 access to its residents during what could be a true catastrophe.
My friend and I sat outside on two lawn chairs during the eye of the hurricane, among the fallen trees, having already heard via the radio that our city was 80 percent flooded. The catastrophe here was not levee failure, but it was for whoever was left back there.
My friend passed away in 2008, six months after William. After three days in Diamondhead, the only person to pass by and check on us, besides neighbors, was a guy in a cheap rental with rolled down windows and a camera stuck out at us.
My friend was an idealist.
As I rewrote Post-Apocalypse for the last time, I experienced three shorts in the electrical wiring at my NYC apartment, leading to three power failures & typing in the dark, plus fire hazards galore. Having seen my car on CNN as St. Andrew St., New Orleans burned two houses back that September ’05, well, I have developed a healthy fear of fire.
Living in a flame-prone neighborhood, I wasn’t only being paranoid in racing back to check on my cat each time I heard sirens screaming toward St. Mary St, back in that day. My building there didn’t catch fire, but William’s did, as I learned from one of the more jarring text messages I’ve ever received: My apartment burnt down. I’m out on the curb with Bonaparte and my laptop.
These are not life experiences you just get over.
The next week into my Post-Apocalypse rewrite, my wall began disintegrating due to a leak upstairs, since fixed. To identify the origin of the leak, the super tore a huge hole in the wall that I had to fight and threaten to get repaired, just like with the hole in my kitchen floor on St. Mary, which was never fixed, only covered.
America has infrastructure issues.
I was in Diamondhead, Mississippi five years ago today, taking free refuge—the only kind I could afford—at a friend's parents' house, with my refuge being not from Katrina, of course, but from a city that would not be offering 911 access to its residents during what could be a true catastrophe.
My friend and I sat outside on two lawn chairs during the eye of the hurricane, among the fallen trees, having already heard via the radio that our city was 80 percent flooded. The catastrophe here was not levee failure, but it was for whoever was left back there.
My friend passed away in 2008, six months after William. After three days in Diamondhead, the only person to pass by and check on us, besides neighbors, was a guy in a cheap rental with rolled down windows and a camera stuck out at us.
My friend was an idealist.
posted by Burnt Notions at 3:53 PM
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