The Word from New Orleans,
Well, I am settled in my apartment in NOLA and I thought I would send some
photos. I haven’t done anything but clean my apartment and work on my
computer, so the photos aren’t super interesting, unless you are into real
estate. But my apartment is kinda cool, so maybe you will be happy to see
When I got here, the thing was that Hurrican Kartina had ripped part of the
roof off of my apartment. I live on the third floor attic apartment of an
old mansion. I mean old as in ramshackle. So the landlord had let some
people live in my apartment while they worked on it. I was going to make a
big deal out of this, but forget it, it’s not in the spirit of cooperation,
etc. Well, those people piled all my crap up in…a pile (see below) and
then did the plaster work, covering every single surface of the apartment in
a fine layer of white powder. I have spend the last week trying to clean
this mess up and make the place liveable. Now, it’s pretty good, so here you
First, all my stuff carelessly piled in a dust covered heap.
Whoever lived in my apartment was kind enough to leave me some dead plants
in dirty vases.
This is my study. Here, the genius flows from hot and cold taps. Stand back,
lest you get some on you.
Here is my living room. High ceilings, hardwood floors. Good light. The
Futon/Couch is new, a replacement for the red velvet joke of a couch, too
small for even one person to sit on, that was here when I first moved in. It
has cigarette burns in it and was so impregnated with plaster dust that I
just dragged it out to the street and asked the landlord for a new couch.
Note that no two windows in the apartment are the same size of design. This
is the nook where you can eat or do nothing. On the wall, temple rubbings I
made while living in Taiwan, also some calligraphy, a quote from Sun Yat
Sen, I can’t remember now what it says (Jaia?)
The bathroom, serviceable if not particularly luxurious. I will say that the
water comes out with the pressure of a firehouse and hot enough to make
instant coffee with. I’m serious, It will flay the skin off you.
My bedroom, utterly undecorated except for some tiny Sabrina Small
paintings. (By the way, one of the things I was most worried about while
refugeeing for two months, was the fate of my SS paintings, Sabrina will be
happy to hear that they all survived.)
The kitchen is really not ready for prime time. It’s really just a container
for my Red Cross supplied cleaning products and other emergency supplies. I
can walk around the corner to the middle school, and the Red Cross is all
set up to give me gallons of fresh water, cans of Chef-Boy-ArDee, Pringles,
and other junk food, which is apparently what FEMA and the Red Cross think
that people survive on. If you want some chips, cookies, pudding cups,
canned lasagne, or beans, then come to New Orleans. Spagettios is the new
This is my own private stairwell, since I have the whole third floor to
myself, I can leave my bike on the landing. That way I only have to carry it
up and down 2 and a half flights every single time I come or go.
Well, that’s the scoop from the Big Easy. I’ll try and get out more and send
you some more interesting pictures from the outside world.
Until then, I am
Your Humble and Obedient Servant,
Neil the Wheel
P.S. Happy birthday to my Dad, on his one millionth birthday!
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