I was doing fine all day long. I hadn't really missed Mardi Gras other than the fact that I need a Zulu bead to hang on my rear view mirror. Then I messed up, went online and found the Wild Magnolias website. I started listening to that damn Mardi Gras Indian music and rest was history. I ended up second line dancing with my baby and listening to the Rebirth for most of the evening. I called my boys and they were feeling the same way. Forget the damn flood, I would rather be home drinking firewater today. I still contend that the national media shouldn't be telling the story of a city revival when that is clearly not the truth. However, I would be lying if I said today wasn't a hard day to get through. I should have been on Claiborne or Galvez somewhere with my big 55 gallon BBQ pit having my yearly class and family reunion. I was going to drink allot, eat a little and then find out where the Creole Wild West and Guardians of the Flame would be and chase them until the sun goes down. Instead, everyone was scattered and that sucks really bad. That's when I realized that I hate New Orleans. I hate it for the history of my family. When the first Harris came to the city on a horse and buggy, she was so fair skinned that people thought she was white and sold her the land that Thompson Methodist Church sits on until this day. I can imagine how they felt when they realized she had those dark ass kin folks. I hate it for my great grandfather on my mother's side Jeremiah Kelly who came over from Honduras and grew bananas in his 7th ward yard. I hate it for my grandparents that never would have ever thought of leaving the place. I hate it for my accent, my believe system, the way I eat, the way I think and the way I carry myself when I go other places. I hate it for John McDonald day in school, the lakefront, crawfish, Clark High School, the Lower Ninth Ward and every holiday at the big house on Benton St. I truly hate bad levees, corrupt politicians, inadequate education, and ignorant negroes that won't hesitate to bust a cap in your ass if you look at them the wrong way. I hate New Orleans for being such a part of who I am that I will come back despite all of the stupid shit I just mentioned in the last sentence. That's what people on the outside looking in will never understand. They look and see a run down, hopeless place,and can't understand why we stress about it. That was even before the storm. Our crazy native asses see something special and dear to our hearts. The bad things are just a part of it like that crackhead alcoholic cousin you grew up with. You have to love them regardless and that's how we love New Orleans.
Damn you New Orleans for being such a big part of me. Life would be so much easier for me if I was from another place and could just walk away. ............In spite of all that.................
I CAN'T WAIT TO GET THERE TOMORROW!
LOVE LIVE THE LOWER NINE!
GOD BLESS THE 504!
EVERYBODY NEEDS TO COME HOME!
See what I mean?
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