The Flying Dutchman Returns

My third day in California and already it's beginning to feel strange. Currently staying near the beach and south of San Francisco there is a definite feeling of rest and solace that I have been in need of lately, but at the same time, I am already plunging deep into the awareness that people outside of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast really don't "get" the reality of what has been going on for the past nine months, nor the great fears and difficult choices faced by folks like me who want to make a life in a place where there is so little solidity.

It isn't said... but I have already begun to pick up the glazed over expressions and the averted eyes as my daily psychic reality as New Orleanian (wherever you are)simply seeps through into conversation (and lack thereof). I have been offered a great place to stay for the month, with the connection to my office in San Francisco as well, but just three days here and I am keenly aware of the daunting task ahead of me; the disparate work responsibilities I have to reel into line, the living arrangements, and transportation arrangements, and daily attempts at finding some stable port.

The ship sails on and I am feeling the rootlessness I first experienced last fall. My cell service is intermittent and it's hard to find a place to put my clothes... Little things, that make the chaos feel just that much closer and deeply confusing.

Deep inside, I really feel the need of more than just a place to sleep, or plant my computer, or edit my writing and audio... For perhaps the first time in my half century of life, I am feeling the need for a home.