Feels like coffin nails banging into my head. I’ve got a petroleum distillate solvent headache, but I like this portrait. I may be thinking about America in doom and gloom forbodings and prism slick floods, but I like this portrait.
Perhaps it’s misguided to blame “the head of state”, but something tells me the Louisianna and Mississippi National Guards aren’t where they should be. Things just keep going from bad to worse. I wonder how we’ll look back on these years, if we get the chance? Still, I liked the portrait and the banging music of the long telephone pole pile driving into the soft muddy earth near the canal (I guess a way of shoring up a new foundation for something too tall like every new building in this soupy canal valley)… it will be the new jazz… pile driving jazz….. Do you know what it means to miss faith in the “New” (Orleans/world/York)? Saints start marching in…. and it makes a nice soundtrack for a sinking feeling below. Bang your head…. maybe the wall will give…. some day.