did we all lose it or

A lot of my conversations these days touch on people who are no longer around.

Some died. An uncle was an early victim of covid-19. Two elderly, isolated friends lapsed into dementia and passed away.

We’ve also lost some who are still living which feels like another wrinkle or implication of the pandemic. Some folks acknowledged their true passions, as in what are we waiting for?, and moved away, retreating to the lush countryside or fleeing to square red states to be closer to family, often an ailing, estranged parent. Others stayed put but withdrew deep into themselves, rejecting human contact and embracing conspiracy, online lunacies that claim to explain the inexplicable, offering pseudo-scientific comfort, a way to make sense of a frightening world. I know of two divorces and many separations, lovers driven apart by didacticism, familes riven by too much togetherness.

Then there are the disappearances. One friend dropped abruptly from a monthly friend Zoom, just stopped coming, stopped responding to texts and quit their job. Several others seem to have lost the thread, lost that little bit of cynical skin that made us friends, and each conversation now seems like a rehash of grievances, repetitive rants about bad drivers or the nightmare of politics or the price of (groceries/gas/you-name-it).

Is there a positive here? Do we know ourselves and each other better now? Or are we just less willing to put up with the mediocre, the dissatisfying, the routine?

The world seems to be exploding with pent-up rage and also creativity and I don’t mean to trivialize but it feels like two outputs of raw, roiling, clawing energy.

Don’t despair, friends. We will get through this, but the road is uphill and we’ll need each other to prevail.

what I'm reading (fall 2023)

It’s been awhile since my last reading update. And I’m still devouring memoir like donuts fresh out of the fryer.

I just finished journalist Prachi Gupta’s They Called Us Exceptional, and while I found the POV jarring (it’s told as though to Gupta’s mother), the story of being othered as an immigrant, the tension of mental illness in a demanding father, unreliable sibling and subservient mother, is compelling.

Two other memoirs blew me away with their vivid, immediate, funny and honest prose: Strong Female Character by Fern Brady, about a Scottish woman discovering her own autism after years of blindly muddling through life, not knowing why she was (is) as she is (was).

And Leg, by Greg Marshall. He’s devastatingly honest and compassionate about his own physical limitations and his vibrant family and ultimate losses. Hashtag-writing-goals for this writer.

I also want to mention Joan Wickersham’s The Suicide Index, incisively and delicately written within what could be a hokey framework, but manages to iteratively tell of a father’s suicide and a family’s unraveling.

I also had the wonderful experience of reading 3 novels quickly, fast because I adored Jen Beagin’s writing, but with the dread of finishing such wonderfully-written prose: Pretend I’m Dead, Big Swiss (a sex therapist’s transcriptionist falls in love with a client) and Vacuum in the Dark.

That’s it for now. I’ve got 6 more books going on Libby. Happy reading!

the telltale X

Not a week goes by in this city without a mention of Hurricane Katrina. The storm devastated this region 18 years ago but the pain and loss still seems immediate and deep. Has the city reckoned with what happened, much less the US of A?

People mourn the loss of family photos in “the storm.” All of them. Imagine not having a single memento of your pre-2005 life.

Houses still bear the telltale X from rescuers, dated weeks after the storm.

People are forever marked, too.

 A NO East chef refuses to make any plans during hurricane season in case his parents need rescuing.

A barfly tells of weeks holed up with whiskey and firearms, feeding a dozen cats and waiting for help that never came.

As a yankee outsider what I see and hear are unhealed wounds, not just from the storm, the water, the debris, the heat, the rotting, the waste, the fear and anger and loss. But the way this city, this proud and joyous people, were left for dead, left to rescue themselves and rebuild mostly alone, hindered by predators legal and not. And now tens of thousands of visitors descend each week to party and play, imagining the loud and vibrant city is as it ever was.

The pain is part of the psyche, I think. The beauty of uncertainty. But how wonderful it might be, to not have to be so resilient.

while they dither the world burns

I’m all for vigorous debate but how about this reporting on the New Orleans city council holding confirmation hearings for a new police chief. I don’t pretend to understand all the complexities in this complicated little-big city, but while they dither and bicker, streets remain unpaved, the drought continues, and a new Republican governor is about to drive the state hard to the right.

PS we're tired too.

 

white dude apolooza

White dude memoir x 3 on the Sunday home page.

Do better Washington Post.

 

hey barbie (ronson)

The conversations about Greta Gerwig’s “Barbie” are vast, entertaining and telling.
I’ve truly enjoyed @markronson’s TikToks about the sountrack. Here’s the dua lipa video, but watch them all. Fascinating to see artists at their creative peak making amazing music.

 

 

@markronson lipa 4 life #dancethenight #barbiemovie ♬ original sound - Mark Ronson

Geaux vote!

I voted Louisiana 2023

After literal decades of voting by mail, I voted in person this week.

In Seattle, voting couldn’t have been easier. I received my ballot in the mail, along with the King County voter’s guide, and once I’d consulted the Stranger’s Election Board, I inked in my ballot, signed it, tore off a tracking strip, and put the sealed envelope in a ballot box or mailbox. Done.

In New Orleans, about the only indication of an upcoming primary has been the candidate signs in folks’ yards and windows. I went online to look up early voting and after a lot of clicking around on the Secretaryof State website, found 3 locations, none closer than an hour walk or 30 minute bus ride from my house. For voter’s guide, I found the Antigravity voter education guide, which I read through a couple of times, wincing at the races with only R candidates. (do better Dems!)

Finally on a rare weekday off, I bought myself an iced coffee and walked across town. The address on the SoS website took me to city hall, where I walked inside to immediately be confronted by a security desk and X-ray machine. No signs about voting anywhere so I walked through security and looked around some more. Lots of people bustling about but still no signs about where to vote. Finally I approached the security guard, standing in a plexiglass cage, and asked. All the way down that hall, then go right, she said.

I walked down a long hall, past tax offices and a sheriff scrolling on his phone, and finally saw it. Early voting here, a sign read. A smiling woman pointed me into another room where I showed my ID (gah), got an “I voted” sticker and a little fob. The election clerk was warm and efficient and pointed me to the right.

Out in the hall were little booths, all empty at 9.30am on a Wednesday, so I plugged in the fob and up popped my ballot. Touchscreen voting was easy, since I’d consulted the voter guide, so I ran through my choices and submitted it. I don’t think I had the option for a paper print out.

On my way out I noticed 2 women consulting sample ballots posted on the wall. I walked past a couple of uniformed sheriffs on my way out.

All in all voting in New Orleans took a lot more effort and time. I didn’t enjoy going through security or seeing all the law enforcement although I imagine both deter mischief makers. But they probably also deter regular ole citizens just trying to have their say.

This was just the primary. We get to do it all again for the general election.

Geaux vote citizens, wherever you might be.