Tuesday, November 08, 2005It is late morning. Tuesday. November eigth. The Patriots lost to the Colts last night. The bird flu is spreading across Europe. Paris is in flames. It is unseasonably warm in Dixie, and I am finding myself almost sad because I am wearing sandals in November. Not wool and corduroy; sandals. Bare, smelly feet.
I have a cup of coffee sitting next to my computer. I am drinking a dark French roast. The television is loud. Where's Manny playing next year? Oh, excuse me. Anyway, this coffee is very, very good. The mug is from Cafe Du Monde. How is New Orleans this morning? Is the Quarter humid and muggy? Has Metarie been drained? Is Uptown rotting?
I wish I could go and see her, and see if her streets might be cleansed of corruption and despair.