I've been in a peculiar mood. Lethargic and on edge, all at the same time.
I suppose part of it is that dreaded "back-to-school" feeling this time of year brings. 46 years later and September still has the power to make me feel anxious. Perhaps I need to up the Buspar dosage in mid August to compensate.
I was concerned because as of this morning Robert and Don were still in the French Quarter. Plan after plan to get them out and on their way to New Iberia seemed to have fallen through, and now I'd lost phone contact again. Finally, He called me this afternoon to say that he and Don and the doggies had made it out with a doctor who was doing triage work in town, and were safely ensconced in a nice little house. Phew.
I can't trust any of the coverage coming out of the city. It's been wrong so often, and now the networks are really working their voodoo on it. It's turning into heartwarming family stories and toys for tots. You know it's a real horror-show, but we just ain't hearing too much about that. The news media has been instructed not to show pictures of the dead bodies that are turning up all over the city. We just get to hear how Oprah and John Travolta flew in to help. Also, for a city with as large a gay population as New Orleans has, you sure as hell ain't hearing much about them. Except maybe that all those Sodomites surely brought the wrath of the Lord down on that city. Which is not what I want to hear right now.
I got an e-mail today from a couple of guys I met years ago. They picked me up in tandem at the Dugout back in the days when they used to close down Weehawken Street on Sunday afternoons. I took them home with me and we had a real nice romp outside on my terrace. They've been living in New Orleans for years now. They have a guest house in the Marigny section, and I've been thinking about them all week, as well. They got out of the city Friday last. Their house was relatively unscathed, but it's definitely last call in that town for a while.
I've been so completely drawn into this disaster that it's surprised me to find no water on 12th Street when I walk out of my house in the morning.
I promise to get back to postings about bar hopping in the near future.