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California ain’t N’awlins, I can tell you that. – Words' End

California ain’t N’awlins, I can tell you that.

Whatever time I take for myself, here in California, comes directly out of the time available for [academic] work, or for regrouping my forces and preparing for the next day. Nevertheless, distracting myself from family life with unrelated activities (such as writing) seems to ground me. I’ll try to write often. Every day. We all know how such intentions work out.

I tried to write chronologically, but there’s just too much. So I’ll post entries as things occur to me. Road trip interspersed in other.

For the record, I think every human before the age of, say, 35 should spend some time caring for an elderly person, or anyone unable to fully care for themselves. It really does provide a different perspective. In the last week, my thoughts have turned to: death and dying; mental degradation with age; why exactly it is that one’s sense of shame persists more strongly than other mental faculties; the importance of a living will (please, someone put me to sleep if I’m ever struck with irreversible illness); a [re]new[ed] appreciation for nurses…

New Orleans notes. This gets long, but is quick reading mostly.

Food court:

zucchini sues squash for infringing on its squashiness

Bay Leaf calls the shots

Judge Rudy Baga presides

Cute flamey actor waiter in La Marquise coffee shop, in a deluge of a rain. If you spell it ante-deluvian, does this mean before the deluge?

Deluge of a thunderstorm last night, through which I could not stay awake. Tried and failed.

Bloody Mère Antoinette yesterday was the spiciest of Bloody Maries. Fried oysters also, and catfish. Never thought I’d like fried oysters this much, it’d seemed like a waste of oysters. Mmm, was I ever wrong.

————–

Word games are fun. Words provided by Talan. Together-putting is mine.

Nuance

Absolut

Window

License

Intense

Nerd-girl

Sensual

Nuanced, notorious

Unruly

Architect-ure.

Nervous

Crawfish escapes an

Etouf-fate by hiding behind

Armature.

Blues at the Funky Pirate never

Sacrifices quality for

Orgasmic thin

Liquid.

Urgent: meet me on

Toulouse.

Weather inclement.

Increased fear of

Narc

Demonstrates our having

Over-come the fear of

Women.

Leverage of

Improvised jazz over food

Court.

Explicit,

New elixir;

Syrup of the

Elder gods.

Implied

Normal-cy

Terminates the period

Emblematic of

Nap.

Synthetic

Entrance to voodoo shop.

Nachez tour: price

Estimate is high.

Revel in the

Dirge of Jazz Funeral.*

Glorious

Instance:

Rapid squeeze of

Lemon onto an oyster.

Sympathetic to her navigational

Errors, shopkeepers help

Nerd Girl

Stop messing

Up the street names.

Anticipation of moving on, north then west,

Lacks suckage.

* a store.

One Reply to “California ain’t N’awlins, I can tell you that.”

  1. It seems that the caring for the ill and understanding the importance of a living will/Not wanting to be kept “alive” in a coma go hand in hand…My mom was a nurse in the neuro wing of Mass General, and she’s told me the same many times.

    ‘Course, she’s also told me to shoot her if she becomes like her mother, but if you knew my grandmother you’d agree :)

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