House of the Screeching Sun

It's time to write about New Orleans again. Because wasn't that the whole point of this blog?

House of the Rising Sun came on the radio today. The radio that I keep on constantly because I'm suddenly a pussy about being alone.

I cranked it up and sat back on my couch to wait and see what I would feel.

Yearning with a hint of disgust and a feeling that I'm done with this place. But by the second verse a hope that I can still maybe squeeze some beauty or feeling or ... something out of it. Maybe it's a hope I need to have because I'm essentially stuck here the next two years. That's two.

Today I was driving toward the Quarter at about 9 am to meet a friend for breakfast. I've been trying to pin her down for the last two weeks, so I needed to take this opportunity when I could get it. Plus, I overslept, so I don't know how much longer she'd wait for me with her dwindling croissant. I got lost on Chippewa, looked suspicious circling the block and few times and finally found my way toward the bridge overpass.

Right before the bridge, I saw a car broken down for some reason or another and a family standing around it. Looked like a mother, an older daughter and two younger kids, one of which was manically waving his lanky arms at any passing car. They were on the other side of the street, so I could watch them through my rear-view when I stopped at the instersection. I thought 1) why are all these douchebags just speeding past them, and 2) what if they need someothing really simple like a ride to the gas station?

I even thought about giving them my spare if they needed it. Everything in me wanted to wheel my Buick around and devote the rest of my afternoon to helping them. But I didn't.

I pushed down on the gas thinking about how Kristen was waiting. How she was already probably annoyed. And how badly I needed a friend to talk to.

So I left them there. I still feel bad about it.

On the way home, I passed a guy playing trumpet on the corner near a bus stop. I sort of rolled my eyes at how "New Orleans" it was, but turned down my music anyway to hear him play. He sucked. Just made screeching sounds and stopped to laugh at himself every once in a while. It was refreshing.