bring the noyz

Singing, good morning America, how are you?
Saying, don't you know me, I'm your native son?

Okay, so the song's about a train, not the city. But it's what came to mind and somehow seems to fit my perception of the current reality.

So cut me some slack, puffy brotherman, it just feels right.

I've spent most of the day with the cable news channels on in the background, watching through the corner of my eye Katrina gyrate, twist, turn, and direct its wrath towards New Orleans like some cranked-up Bourbon Street stripper in the midst of a hi-octane meth-acid binge fueled by steroids washed down with ample quantities of the substance they named the street after.

That's what I'm talking about.

Well, to be perfectly honest my dear reader, a glass of wine or two with a slice of leftover pizza later and the mind begins to wonder as it wanders.

Every network has their own clip of the endless streams of traffic fleeing New Orleans on both sides of the road. As nothing has really happened yet they have little else to show. So they show it over and over and over again accompanied by an endless stream of meaningless speculation, hyperbole and blah blah blah de fucking blah.

It's got me thinking.

What would you take?

If you only had a few hours to load up your proverbial wagon and get the hell out of Dodge what would you take with you?

If you knew with an almost absolute certainty that what got left behind will be destroyed or just plain gone, blown and washed away. . . poof. . . out of your life. . . forever. . . what would you take with you?

How do you prioritize a life's worth of memories and materials into what you can fit in the trunk of your car?

I imagine there is a moment of almost zen-like clarity and calm when the decision is finally made, although I do not envy anyone forced by circumstance into such a state of trancendence.

All I can think is that it must really fucking suck.

Yeah. . . mostly it must just really fucking suck.
|