reappearing
Mar. 25th, 2006 10:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iridiumi'm in Mississippi now, and have been for just over a week. somewhere in the middle of New Mexico i stopped checking email, disconnected my mental tether from the internet, and it just stopped occurring to me that i could pull out the laptop, find some wireless connection, et cetera. on the one hand, it was kinda nice; on the other, well, it made communication with faraway people much more difficult, and i've had to spend a good bit of time over the past couple of days going through the accumlated mountains of email. i haven't really even begun to respond to any of it.
but...it's time to pick that back up again, and to pick up my writing, too. i have bits and pieces written down from the road, but not all that much. *laugh* i could say i was too busy living, but that's only half-true; writing's part of living, and important to me, but it was i think more that i've been letting myself rest in that on-the-road state of mind, fluid and strange and full of shifts and changes. coyote's country, indeed. and, to be honest, once i let it slide a little it starts to pile up -- so many stories to tell and hear, the mass of emails to filter through, plans to get settled and sorted. but now i have a little more downtime, the evenings quiet and solitary after the rest of the house goes to sleep, and that's a good time for writing.
two weeks ago:
there was New Mexico, and the winter followed us down. we ducked out of Utah, ran due south, came through the four corners late at night and back into civilization, and the air got warmer. i was glad to be done with snow and winter; it's beautiful, but i get so damn cold so easily, and it made getting out of the car to walk even a little in the northern parks so much work, stomping and sniffling and ducking against the wind. waking in Santa Fe to four inches of snow that no one expected, well, at that point i just gave up and was glad to be in a house and not a hotel, with friends and good company and a fireplace. it worked out just fine, a splendid snow day (even if it did mean i didn't get to ride) and brunch and visiting.
then, wheels to the road, south again. the Frontier was where i remembered it, in Albuquerque; the posole was good but the cinnamon roll was sadly stale. ah, well. the Bird Song bookstore had moved, and was closed on Mondays, but it did at least still exist.
the transition from little winding highways to interstates made easier by the stretch of mountains against the sunset out the windows. when the edge of the sky was that last orange glow before it shades out to dusty rose and purple, the mountains looked like someone had torn a strip off the bottom of the sky, left it ragged with only empty black behind.
a little more than one week ago:
east, straight east on I-10. fortunately we never got moving early enough in the morning to have to deal with the sunrise; i've spent too many hours on this particular highway driving with my eyes half-shut against the glare. (most of it westbound, driving into the sunset. riding (or driving) into the sunset isn't romantic; it involves lots of squinting and grumbling and waving your hands around trying to block some bit of the stabbing bright sunlight.) we left San Antonio after an hour or so sitting in the antique shop in the sideroom of the mechanic's warehouse; the (really freaking expensive) waterpump/timing chain repairs i had done a few months ago were not done properly. a gasket wasn't seating right, and a sleeve should have been put on the harmonic balancer. grrrr. but i did at least catch the problem early, and the shop we found with vague directions from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
l_stboy's grandfather was exactly the kind of place we needed to find -- a bunch of vets and ex-airbase mechanics who love cars and engines and know how to keep the old ones running. they patched my Matilda up enough to get to Mississippi ("and who knows, that might even get you all the way back to California...") and told me exactly what the problem was and what to do to fix it properly, and all of it was $35. she's still leaking oil a little bit, but she's doing allright.
there was just enough time to make it down to the Alamo and the Riverwalk before setting off again, so we waded in through the traffic and went to walk a bit. the last time i was at the Alamo, i think i was maybe six or seven, maybe younger, and i was very, very small then...and my first thought upon walking up to the building this time (after "augh people tourist crowds aack") was "...that can't be it, that building is far too small." but that was it, and it was still impressive in its age, in the quiet and solemnity that the building held close even with all the milling gawking glassy-eyed touristing crowds. in a courtyard, there was a live oak with branches leaning down to the earth, and goldfish in a narrow aqueduct pond, and that gave me a little space in which to breathe.
from therel_stboy threaded a path through the tourists and cars, down some stairs off the sidewalk, past a heavily-chlorinated fountain, past the first tourist-bar (advertising "Best Hangover Cure: Bloody Mary + Mimosa," which really doesn't sound like a good idea at all) and *poof* there's a river. sort of. well, not really, but they're trying. it is certainly water, and it goes from one place to another, and there are boats on it, so that counts for something. and best of all, there was a little jazz cafe, not crowded at all, with tables out for river- and people-watching. two grumpy men playing sweet music on piano and drums, and bound to the poles of the umbrellas over each table there was a clarinet, a sax, pieces of a trombone, old and broken and weathered. we had good food, little fancy bits, and coffee with bailey's, and watched the currents of people pass. on the river, little flat barges with rows of tourists would motor by, and we (of course) turned to idle scheming: we'd each put on full pirate regalia, bandanas and fancy hats with feathers in them, and l_stboy would rush the first boat, throw the tourguide overboard, and immediately declare himself captain and pressgang the tourists as his crew. (i figured that if we brought good pirate hats and bandanas for all of them, they'd all get right into it. a brilliant plan.) then, of course, i'd shout furious curses, comandeer the next tourist-barge in a similar way but with more style and panache, and we'd take off in mad pursuit. i bet we could get the pirate-tourists to broadside each other with souvenir coffee mugs and statuettes of the Alamo, and we could probably make a decent haul just by passing a hat at the end... *laugh* in any case, it was a very fine way to pass a Thursday afternoon.
more stories later; it's time for sleeping now. tomorrow i may head over to New Orleans, and if Common Ground can make use of me for the afternoon i'll do whatever work i can. either way, i may take the trip in just to get out a bit, talk to them and find out how i might be useful over the few weeks, and meet up withfolzgold for going-out-and-doing-something-interesting. (it's been a little while since i called someone up who i didn't know at all, out of the blue, and attempted to make plans. always a little awkward, but hey, (as Arlo Guthrie says) i'm not proud. no idea if Common Ground will have work for me tomorrow, and i have no concrete plans, but at the least i'm sure there's somewhere to get a po-boy and a bottle of Barq's, and there's always the Cafe du Monde and the river and Lafitte's; i'm sure there's good music being played somewhere, or a decent game of pool, and i can wander alone or with company, either way.)
also, just as a PSA: when we drove around New Orleans, down through the lower 9th Ward, the parts of the city that had been flooded by the levee breaks, Common Ground were just about the only people we saw out and working, getting things done. they're doing soil bioremediation, general cleanup, healthcare, and eviction and legal defense. they're not perfect, but they seem to be doing good work that very, very badly needs to be done. they have a wishlist for the clinic and for general relief efforts, andfolzgold was saying they have a serious need for longterm volunteers; i think they're also happy to have people come down for a week or two. if you have time or money/useful-supplies that you can spare, and any interest in helping, they seem like a good place to give it to.
but...it's time to pick that back up again, and to pick up my writing, too. i have bits and pieces written down from the road, but not all that much. *laugh* i could say i was too busy living, but that's only half-true; writing's part of living, and important to me, but it was i think more that i've been letting myself rest in that on-the-road state of mind, fluid and strange and full of shifts and changes. coyote's country, indeed. and, to be honest, once i let it slide a little it starts to pile up -- so many stories to tell and hear, the mass of emails to filter through, plans to get settled and sorted. but now i have a little more downtime, the evenings quiet and solitary after the rest of the house goes to sleep, and that's a good time for writing.
two weeks ago:
there was New Mexico, and the winter followed us down. we ducked out of Utah, ran due south, came through the four corners late at night and back into civilization, and the air got warmer. i was glad to be done with snow and winter; it's beautiful, but i get so damn cold so easily, and it made getting out of the car to walk even a little in the northern parks so much work, stomping and sniffling and ducking against the wind. waking in Santa Fe to four inches of snow that no one expected, well, at that point i just gave up and was glad to be in a house and not a hotel, with friends and good company and a fireplace. it worked out just fine, a splendid snow day (even if it did mean i didn't get to ride) and brunch and visiting.
then, wheels to the road, south again. the Frontier was where i remembered it, in Albuquerque; the posole was good but the cinnamon roll was sadly stale. ah, well. the Bird Song bookstore had moved, and was closed on Mondays, but it did at least still exist.
the transition from little winding highways to interstates made easier by the stretch of mountains against the sunset out the windows. when the edge of the sky was that last orange glow before it shades out to dusty rose and purple, the mountains looked like someone had torn a strip off the bottom of the sky, left it ragged with only empty black behind.
a little more than one week ago:
east, straight east on I-10. fortunately we never got moving early enough in the morning to have to deal with the sunrise; i've spent too many hours on this particular highway driving with my eyes half-shut against the glare. (most of it westbound, driving into the sunset. riding (or driving) into the sunset isn't romantic; it involves lots of squinting and grumbling and waving your hands around trying to block some bit of the stabbing bright sunlight.) we left San Antonio after an hour or so sitting in the antique shop in the sideroom of the mechanic's warehouse; the (really freaking expensive) waterpump/timing chain repairs i had done a few months ago were not done properly. a gasket wasn't seating right, and a sleeve should have been put on the harmonic balancer. grrrr. but i did at least catch the problem early, and the shop we found with vague directions from
l_stboy's grandfather was exactly the kind of place we needed to find -- a bunch of vets and ex-airbase mechanics who love cars and engines and know how to keep the old ones running. they patched my Matilda up enough to get to Mississippi ("and who knows, that might even get you all the way back to California...") and told me exactly what the problem was and what to do to fix it properly, and all of it was $35. she's still leaking oil a little bit, but she's doing allright. there was just enough time to make it down to the Alamo and the Riverwalk before setting off again, so we waded in through the traffic and went to walk a bit. the last time i was at the Alamo, i think i was maybe six or seven, maybe younger, and i was very, very small then...and my first thought upon walking up to the building this time (after "augh people tourist crowds aack") was "...that can't be it, that building is far too small." but that was it, and it was still impressive in its age, in the quiet and solemnity that the building held close even with all the milling gawking glassy-eyed touristing crowds. in a courtyard, there was a live oak with branches leaning down to the earth, and goldfish in a narrow aqueduct pond, and that gave me a little space in which to breathe.
from there
l_stboy threaded a path through the tourists and cars, down some stairs off the sidewalk, past a heavily-chlorinated fountain, past the first tourist-bar (advertising "Best Hangover Cure: Bloody Mary + Mimosa," which really doesn't sound like a good idea at all) and *poof* there's a river. sort of. well, not really, but they're trying. it is certainly water, and it goes from one place to another, and there are boats on it, so that counts for something. and best of all, there was a little jazz cafe, not crowded at all, with tables out for river- and people-watching. two grumpy men playing sweet music on piano and drums, and bound to the poles of the umbrellas over each table there was a clarinet, a sax, pieces of a trombone, old and broken and weathered. we had good food, little fancy bits, and coffee with bailey's, and watched the currents of people pass. on the river, little flat barges with rows of tourists would motor by, and we (of course) turned to idle scheming: we'd each put on full pirate regalia, bandanas and fancy hats with feathers in them, and l_stboy would rush the first boat, throw the tourguide overboard, and immediately declare himself captain and pressgang the tourists as his crew. (i figured that if we brought good pirate hats and bandanas for all of them, they'd all get right into it. a brilliant plan.) then, of course, i'd shout furious curses, comandeer the next tourist-barge in a similar way but with more style and panache, and we'd take off in mad pursuit. i bet we could get the pirate-tourists to broadside each other with souvenir coffee mugs and statuettes of the Alamo, and we could probably make a decent haul just by passing a hat at the end... *laugh* in any case, it was a very fine way to pass a Thursday afternoon.more stories later; it's time for sleeping now. tomorrow i may head over to New Orleans, and if Common Ground can make use of me for the afternoon i'll do whatever work i can. either way, i may take the trip in just to get out a bit, talk to them and find out how i might be useful over the few weeks, and meet up with
folzgold for going-out-and-doing-something-interesting. (it's been a little while since i called someone up who i didn't know at all, out of the blue, and attempted to make plans. always a little awkward, but hey, (as Arlo Guthrie says) i'm not proud. no idea if Common Ground will have work for me tomorrow, and i have no concrete plans, but at the least i'm sure there's somewhere to get a po-boy and a bottle of Barq's, and there's always the Cafe du Monde and the river and Lafitte's; i'm sure there's good music being played somewhere, or a decent game of pool, and i can wander alone or with company, either way.) also, just as a PSA: when we drove around New Orleans, down through the lower 9th Ward, the parts of the city that had been flooded by the levee breaks, Common Ground were just about the only people we saw out and working, getting things done. they're doing soil bioremediation, general cleanup, healthcare, and eviction and legal defense. they're not perfect, but they seem to be doing good work that very, very badly needs to be done. they have a wishlist for the clinic and for general relief efforts, and
folzgold was saying they have a serious need for longterm volunteers; i think they're also happy to have people come down for a week or two. if you have time or money/useful-supplies that you can spare, and any interest in helping, they seem like a good place to give it to.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
San Antonio
Date: 2006-03-26 06:30 am (UTC)I think you're being a little hard on the San Antonio river. It's a river that's supposed to flood (in fact, there are tons of overpasses west of San Antonio that span dry ground most of the time, and big creeks when it rains enough). In the name of flood control, part of the flow is constantly being bypassed around the riverwalk area (iirc) and when it does rise enough that it would normally flood, the overflow is directed through a huge tunnel under the city. I think it carries more water than you realize, just not actually at riverwalk.
Think of all that what you will (and I suspect the river by which all others are measured is, for you, the Mississippi), but it does mean they can put a sidewalk right there on the water, which I found pretty damned cool.
I liked riverwalk quite a lot. Very touristy, sure, but if you get away from Dick's Last Resort (worst restaurant ever) and the bars, there are some parts of it that aren't so obnoxiously touristy. Plus, those parts are just plain beautiful. At the time, I found it so romantic it hurt.
The Alamo... the big oak is the only part I particularly liked. THe courtyard felt every bit like a Six Flag theme area, which says a little about Six Flags and a lot about the Alamo, I think. There was a plaque in front of the gift shop that I considered fairly ironic. I wish I could recall the details of it.
and it was still impressive in its age
Another problem, I think, was that I was disillusioned when I realized that the only thing left of the actual Alamo is a single section of wall.
I don't remember enough of the details right now to say much about the story of the Alamo and the events that transpired there. I do recall being struck by the courage against the basicly inevitable. However, the whole affair just had a 'not right' feeling that tainted the experience.
Re: San Antonio
Date: 2006-03-28 08:59 pm (UTC)i don't think "romantic" is the word i'd use, but then i'm pretty anti-romantic. i did have a fine afternoon sitting at the jazz cafe, eating tasty food and mocking the tourists. (yes, the irony, i get it.)
re: new walls at the Alamo -- ah well. the oak tree helped, at least, and i found a little walkway to sit in that was obviously newish, but it was still stone and old cement and juniper beams across the top, and an ironwork gate that was done reasonably well; even though i knew it wasn't "old" and "the original Alamo"...that's not quite why i was there, and not why it made me feel a little more at peace. it was well-done, and it had less of the theme-park feel to it, and there is an extent to which even if places are only renewed in the form and feel of what was there before it still carries some of the weight of the years and history. *shrug* or maybe i'm just making all that up, but in the end i found a bit of the place that i liked, that i fit into, and that's what mattered more to me.
also, i was amused to be reminded that some fair number of the people who led the last stand at the Alamo were from South Carolina. we seem to be good at that kind of stubbornness, for better or (often) for worse...
no subject
Date: 2006-03-26 06:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-26 06:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-26 03:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-28 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-26 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-28 08:37 pm (UTC)