Highway 61 Revisited

Enough.  Goddamn, enough is enough.  Things have wandered awry.  Why is it that there cannot be a hurricane evacuation that is not surreal, unpleasant and painful.  If Katrina was like Apocalypse Now, a long strange journey into madness, then Gustav was A Streetcar Named Desire-- a group of people living together who should not, drinking more than anyone should.  Some beaten down, some desperate for love and attention.  Bitches, peacekeepers, the oblivious.  There were bound to be fireworks.  It is too late tonight to drag the past out into the light.

Josh and Abby

Wayne, Joe and Abby

Abby

Suffice it to say, there were fun times in Natchez.  Bowies, The Under-the-Hill Saloon, Andrews-- these are fun places.  Maybe the match to the kindling was when the power went out.  And stayed out for more than twenty four hours.  It got hot, no one could sleep-- everyone was tired.  And in the end, Abby and I were deserted in the hotel, lied to, and generally made to look like fools.  I am tired of these little children and their little children ways.  We took scenic Highway 61 back to New Orleans, and, by God, we got there.  It was a little victory.