I will share a few memories of new orleans which are making me pretty sad right about now.

I first went when I was in louisiana visiting my friend beth. i was really good friends with beth – she was a borna and bred new yorker with a natural southern twang to her. we’ve lost touch now, but she lived there and i’ve been thinking about her a lot because i know she’s probably mourning her city right now. in any case, i went to visit her in nearby lafayette, and we decided to spend the weekend in n’awlins on the spur of the moment. she rounded up some friends-of-friends of hers, and we headed off over the river. we had no reservation, but ended up at this b&b straight out of a movie, with the dripping wisteria and the veranda and courtyard. we wandered the city aimlessly and she got a tattoo of a gryffin and a crescent moon (n.o. being “the crescent city”) just because we happened to walk past. we hung out with the locals drinking all night long, at this little den off the back off a wrought iron staircase, with candles and curtains and lots of strong rum, and when it got warm we went for a 3am swim under the stars, and spent the morning watching the sun come up over the mississippi. 24 hours that are as vivid as if they were yesterday.

i was so struck by it, that when i came time to celebrate my 30th birthday, i knew where i wanted to go. my friend jo and i spent a whole week there over christmas (my birthday being the 25th, hers being the 28th) and it was amazing indulgent excess. we stuffed ourselves on muffalettas and crawfish etouffee. we hung out playing pool and drinking and getting naughty with strangers on Christmas eve. we played scrabble in little cafes and wandered through graveyards. we had our fortunes told, did ecstasy and coke, drank the best water in the world at a little electricity-less bar lit only by candlelight, and danced our asses off in a corny 80s club. we took photos and made lists and walked all over creation. we stayed in a really grim hotel, and a really nice one. we committed one felony, and several misdemeanors. we bought fuck-me boots and got our hair did. we had cafe au laits and beignets at dawn by the river.

it was gothic and vibrant and noisy and atmospheric and fragrant and hectic and lush. weighty with history. effervescent with life.

and now it’s drowned. and the sorrows of the people are mingled with the waters of the delta, tears and river as one.

it will be reborn, and rise from the depths, in accordance with its history. if there’s any city where things can be certain of coming back to life, it is new orleans. ghosts are the life and the heart of it – nothing stays buried for long there.

but until then, my poor sweet city, may you have peace

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