Follow Through

The day after the hurricane was one of the most beautiful days in New Orleans. Fortune had smiled upon us and the storm only clipped us at night, sending little debris around and causing no damage near me. But the streets were still empty that morning and I walk the empty street car tracks and no one was around and I felt all alone but a cool breeze blew through a cloudless sky and I felt a moment of inspiration pass. The next few days I laid low with my my parents and enjoyed their company as my Dad touted the features of his new Tivo and my Mom napalmed me with old photo albums of us in Europe, in Disneyland, in India, in Morrocco, in Venezuela and I try to make the pictures come alive as I stare at them and its not hard because the memories are seem so clear. Over the weekend I book a flight to return to L.A. and go out with 'Anthony'. We go see 'Nathan's' band play and he looks almost strung out and mascara runs down his cheeks and eyeliner is smudged and we don't know what he's saying as he sings and 'Jana' looks a wreak and eventually the band stops playing when the guitarist takes off his clothes and backstage we watch 'Nathan' shoot up with 'Jana' and someone thinks 'Jana' is ODing and they take off her shirt to pump her heart we see that a pentagram has been carved on her chest around her small breasts and 'Nathan' looks at us, fear in his eyes, and then 'Jana' starts to laugh and we breath a sigh of relief and I want to leave. I don't want my last nights in New Orleans spent watching a Grunge/Metal band pump the stomachs of their groupies and this isn't really my scene anyway and 'Anthony' is sweating so we leave. We go to Pat O'Brien's and sit at the piano bar and drink Hurricane's and four girls from Alabama are there because they fled Mobile and we drink and sing old Billy Joel songs with them and we go back to their Hotel room at Loews in the Warehouse District and I have sex with one of them while Anthony goes to the pool with the other three and she is pretty and has very long legs but she doesn't make a noise and it feels uncomfortable so I stop and get up and she looks at me like I'm crazy for not finishing and I leave. 'Anthony' doesn't want to go so I leave him and go to the 'Kingpin' where I meet a Tulane Law girl who hates New Orleans politics and spends an hour explaining to me how some crook woman who won a civil court judgship was completely unqualified compared to another candidate and how she's positive the election was fixed and I didn't even now New Orleans was holding elections still, after the Hurricane. The political talk leaves me weary and at 5am I come home and sleep. The next morning I go to Church again and the priest doesn't make any sense in his homily and I can barely hear him but I'm positive that a statue of Saint Anthony is staring at me. I spend the day with my parents and they tell me how proud they are and we eat dinner at home and they go to sleep and 'Allison' calls. I go to her place and we have another night of incredible sex and she wants to visit me and I ask her about her fiance and she doesn't answer but takes off her clothes again and lets me rub her soft taut skin and kiss her body and I forget my question and we have sex outside on her front porch at 4am and I think we've now done it in every area of her house. The next morning I slip out while she is asleep but she looks gorgeous in bed and I have to kiss her one more time and lose myself in her and I eventually get home while my parents are making breakfast. I take a shower and my parents go to work, hugging me a long time before they leave and my dad pats my shoulder and it seems like he wants to say something but all that comes out is 'well...' and the cab comes and I leave my home, watching the River pass under me as the plane pulls away...

Comments

[Rocker]

Sorry for the long delay. As you can see, all my old posts from the last site are up and dated properly. Unfortunately all the amazing comments...well, we have time for more in the future. If you are new I suggest you read over the old posts. I read through them all as I was reposting them and the emotions that came back was proof enough that writing this blog was worth it. And those that continue to read, your comments are always helpful, funny, and generally intelligent. Thank you...enjoy and my story continues...

[nikola1tesla]

Thank you, Rocker!

That was gorgeous-- & I'm so happily satisfied right now I don't know if I can write the right words to match my feelings about it in response. I hope you don't take that as I'm a girl who doesn't make noise when she's happy. Before you posted this one, I saw your others pop up, so if you're in the mood for comments-- I put a long one about first kisses in your post called Long Way Home- about the girl from Milan.

This post of yours here is beautifully melancholy, and I'm thrilled & releived to see it here after so long waiting, and .... at the same time those detached, confused feelings are familiar to me all the time.

I've dealt with so many OD's--mine & other peoples'--- GHB especially-- and all those other incredibly fucking young girls sticking meth needles in their necks, & having seizures, pigging out on cocaine & having their hearts act up, & having drunken blackouts-- that whole scene is rough and sad and wrong-- not too hard to stay clear of if you try. It's death brother.

The last time I flew to LA, it was in February right after the kids I nannied for were taken into protective custody when their dad was arrested. It made me so detached from life here-- in pain-- no where really to go until my next apartment became available after the first of the month. I'd been clean for about a year & couldn't turn to drugs or drinking, so I flew to LA on a lark at the spur of the moment, wondering if any of my distant family might be around to hang with for a while until my new home was ready, trying to forget the pain of losing the kids I nannied for, of discovering the dark secrets of their family once their mom pressed charges against their dad. The plane I rode rose up above the island where my own sons slept, safe in the early morning sunshine at my ex-husband's house, and for a combination of reasons, I looked down at such a beautifully dazzling sunrise and burst into a river of tears, the habitual sequences of my mind completely torn apart.

Anyway... glad to see you back. I missed you.

[nikola1tesla]

Ooops-- The Milan girl post wasn't "Long Way Home"-- It was.... "Say Hello, Wave Goodbye."

http://rocker.blogs.com/another_day_in_hell/2004/09/say_hello_wave_.html

[JCanuck]

Hey Rocker. Odd, despite the talk of drugs and sex, you sound somewhat "settled" for the time being. More centered maybe. That St. Anthony sure gets around, doesn't he?

You should call your Dad and tell him that you love him too, even if he he only managed a "Well".

Very glad to see you back with us.