New Orleans Visit

My stand-by flight to New Orleans wasn't bad because I got bumped from a flight and was stuck in Denver overnight, it was bad because people were not kind, selfish and I felt like I was on a Greyhound bus trip.  Sure, it is gross to sit next to someone who has just regurgitated their Lorna Doone 100 calorie snack pack onto their sweater, but I cleaned up the best I could and you could've parted with just one of your handi-wipes.

I made it anyway.

Stuck on an airplane with a rolled up sweater feeling gross and dehydrated and anxious and not ready at all to be locked into the airplane again, I did not get off in Denver, I did not cause a scene and I made it.

Luckliy I have some of the best friends ever who made the whole trip worth it.

art show in a church, a bunch of people I have never seen before

I went under the pretense of selling things at the New Orleans Anarchist Bookfair, which I did, with my suitcase strapped to my borrowed bike (thanks, John) in a light rain.  I chose a table next to a friend from Maple Leaf Books who took turns with me buying each other coffee and beer (thanks, Matt).

I got to talk with a friends who have been living in the Bywater, who want out, who are frustrated and conflicted and want all the best for New Orleans and are pretty sure that the best for New Orleans doesn't come from San Fransisco or New York. I heard a little insight from urban planners (thanks, Jason) and mostly was on vacation, if by vacation you mean not working on projects (sorry, Scott), sitting with friends while they work (yay Bear!)  and taking a lot of time to listen.

carrying my wares on a borrowed bike

 So, last week in review:  the sky was amazing.  The bookfair was not the bookfair of years before, which is happening a few weeks later and it will be interesting to see if the two combine, split, work together or if one engulfs the other. There are people who will be there next month who I wished I could see (hi Sara).  A week of contradictory forces.  I went to a fancy photography show in a church near my first New Orleans apartment,    The church has a plaque outside denoting the dates it was built, burned, rebuilt.  I always liked that little monument to the struggle.  The church was still only partially rebuilt or perhaps partially falling apart.  The photos were staged but looked exactly like the deep south at night, humming with eerie light.  I was a little drunk.  It was surreal and made me sad and angry and so so happy all at the same time.  I had coffee with many friends despite swearing off coffee. I rode and rode and here are some photos.

Thanks.

PS.  I won't be at the East Bay Anarchist Bookfair after all.  No room.  But I will be at a table in the east bay near you soon.

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