words for new orleans

 

New Orleans is a time warp, it gifts those that have spent their life, or a long time there, with clarity about the unruly, certainty about the slippery, and spaciousness around the dirty.  Those gifts are not given lightly, as they say, and are meaningful far beyond the levees as ways to live in the world with a kind of funk in your thighs and reliable kind of patience for your newest friends, oldest family. How great, so wise and unconfined it is to be of this culture; yet there the process of investigating becomes meandering, and then we remember more than we might need too. Remembering life. We must, yet seriously, that's dull (maybe tarnished), instead let's fucking live it.

Death can be a place we visit as we let go of things, feelings, patterns, lovers, and expectations. I experienced that fully this past weekend. But New Orleans is so warped, it was puzzling and energetically expensive. So it goes, the death that dies, goes that way with so many souls that are not dead. So that one-way street called solitude, given to us righteously as death is unwrapped is more of a phantom hall stocked with sweet miseries displayed in what appears to be an accidental way. Like entropy and noise must know the eternal better than us. Perhaps it's truth that we cannot cast a spell on, or mystery that provides flavor that we can never get out of our mouths, but for me, I'm able to sit in the face of things that I need to let be, and say goodbye. The insecurity of my heart is with the sickness in my guts.
This week I learned by seeing. That repairing the remains is our work to do (inside and out), and that I am not alone or far from being able to give back.

 

Photo below from http://brandanodums.com---check him the fuck out!

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Juliet Loranger