ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN...
The phrase was so incredibly trite and so completely packaged that all I could think of was the scene in Bull Durham when Nuke has his first interview. I actually wanted to find that quote online, but instead I was only able to find Crash's opposite quote, but hey... it's so good, let's just go with the stream of consciousness thing here.
I was out tonight. I planned on watching Arsenal play Real Madrid, but in New Orleans there's really only one bar that runs that kind of sports coverage and while they have the most beers of any bar in America and they have more TVs than any bar I've ever been in, they also happen to be all the way down at Riverbend and I didn't want to go to that much work to watch football (otherwise known as soccer).
Instead, I went to Parasols, a great little uptown Irish bar that I thought MIGHT have soccer on TV, but I was wrong. Instead, I was given the gift of Dorothy (and her husband Colin). Dorothy and Colin escaped Katrina a few hours before I did, and like me they have been considering themselves lucky (as compared to their friends and family) for coming out of the whole thing relatively unscathed. But as Dorothy began talking, it became really obvious that she - like me - is not unscathed at all.
That is the reality of New Orleans, and New Orleanians, six months after Katrina, even the lightweights among us (a group I put myself squarely in the center of) are still suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome. For example... when, a week ago, I walked into the Margaritaville Storyville Tavern to hear Jesse Moore singing Anders Osborne's "It's Gonna Be Okay," I felt pretty happy with myself when, for the first time since August I didn't burst into uncontrollable tears. But then the next day, as I was reading an article about rescued dogs, and I thought about how Roxanne rescued ME, I wound up sobbing into my burrito right in the middle of Juan's Flying Burrito.
The point of this post is that when I got home and turned on the TV I caught the last little bit of Sasha Cohen's ice skating program and the little tiny bit I saw was truly incredible. And she was delightful... But then she made that cute but relatively idiotic comment. At least that's what I thought at first.
But then I thought about my conversation with Dorothy, and my unexpected crying jag, and the way things just don't ever seem to come back together the way all of us keep thinking and hoping that they will.
Perhaps Sasha's right... Rest Up... Believe In Yourself... Stay Positive... AND...
Absolutely ANYTHING not only can, but probably WILL happen and what counts is how you handle THAT part.
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And... on the news just now they announced that some guy in Florida killed his roomate over an argument about toilet paper. Now I could maybe understand this if the murderer was a woman... I mean I've been in some dangerous arguments about toilet paper with several females, including my daughter... But these were two GUYS!!!!! How metrosexual is that!?
2 comments:
I can't judge the murderer, he might be justified. I've got a favorite type now. I also keep Kandoo wipes on top of my toilet tank. My bum, my partner's bum, and the bums of my guests are all well taken care of. I hope you took advantage when you visited my apartment. My backside does a lot for me, I'm going to treat it right.
As a matter of fact... I did.
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