My motivation seems to stem from a deep resentment towards the media.
I remember sitting on a futon in Austin and watching the news and seeing all the houses with the water up to the roofs and some news lady saying, "80% of New Orleans is under water."
I, like everyone else, grew an umbilical cord that connected directly to my laptop and tried to find out how much water my neighborhood had, where my friends were, and if there were actually sharks swimming in the French Quarter.
In a bar bathroom in Austin, I kicked the shit out of a door because some guy from New Orleans had been crying to me, insisting that my apartment in Mid City had flooded because the Ford Dealership had.
And this lady in the Schlotzky's wouldn't shut up about how I had to come to terms with the fact that I would never return to New Orleans or my apartment again.
80% of the city. An image of water to the rooftops.
My boyfriend drunk and screaming at me that we could never go back.
I remember telling a good friend of mine that I flat out did not believe her that we would not ever be allowed to come back here. I was drunk, very drunk, and crying that Corey Henry would play the trombone in the French Quarter someday and we would be there.
It wasn't that I knew something other people didn't or was more practical or had more information than anyone else.
I was deeply in denial because I could not deal with the fact that all my collections and pets were gone.
I also didn't want to waste the energy mourning when I wasn't sure.
I was taking a shower outside on the bayou in Arnaudville when Jarret Lofstead called to tell us that he'd kicked in our backdoor and there was no water in our Mid-City apartment.
He had a press pass.
Right now, I don't care whether it will be hot and sticky and I will never find a generator and I'll have to eat cold beans out of a can. I don't care if holing up in C's apartment will be boring, or if I'll end up on some highway bridge waiting for help. As long as I can keep Lupe safe, I don't care what I see or how hot I feel or how crazy it makes me.
I would rather stay in the sweat and stink and terror of New Orleans than sit on some nice dry couch wondering if what I'm seeing on the television is true. Because I won't be able to look away if I leave here. I can say I'll try, but I'll want to know what's happening here.
So I am taking this opportunity to use my tools as a journalist to record whatever I can about New Orleans as Hurricane Gustav ravages the coast. I promise only to include information I have experienced first hand. At least I'll know what I'm seeing is true.
Argh. Blogger sucks. I just wrote a long comment and it deleted it. The long & short of it was, wow, I love & respect you but I don't agree with you that you're doing the right thing by staying. And I'm someone who knows first hand what you're talking about and maybe I even "had it worse", given that I did lose everything, and was horribly exiled for a year. See
ReplyDeleteyes, we know how awful it is to "not know". And to endure the shitty opinions of strangers. But there's worse things and moreover, we know NOW what happened, why do you want to set yourself up for that? We know the levees are shit, we know that the gov't & cops are corrupt & dangerous & that they strip suffering human beings of their dignity (such that they'll take you on their boat but not your dog, no matter what). Isn't what's important to witness is the aftermath? Isn't that the real storm happening? Who cares what goes down when the dogs of hell are unleashed? Is knowing that first hand better than being in a hotel in Round Rock Texas?
The people who stayed for K can't wait to get out, the people who didn't are saying they'd rather stay. What do they know that you don't? It can't be good -
and I've been shuttling folks to the buses on Tulane, I've seen my neighbors out waiting for public transportation with their crappy backpacks and kids and strained faces. They would kill to have my freedom, my shitty car, my level of poverty. I dunno -
one thing a fireman told me years ago when I was going through my first evacuation (Georges) was that for each person who stays they are putting the life of a rescue worker at risk. Isn't that person's life worth something? Or do you think that somehow you've got some strength, that your generator will protect you in a way that it didn't protect the folks in the Lower 9 when the Industrial Canal broke? I just don't get it -
and now I have to worry about you. You'll tell me not to but I will. Everyone who loves you will have to worry about you now. I don't need that stress, I ain't tryin to hear that! Y'heard?
So well I'm in a better situation than I was before in that I have a much stronger support system and I'll be close enough that I can come back asap w/little to no fanfair. I'm lucky. And I'm lucky enough to know that not knowing what's going down when things are going down is a small price to pay in order to be able to come back.
Be safe love. I hope to see you on the flip side.
xox
Eli