Army Corps of Engineers buries New Orleans records ~FMJ
EPA widens pump project ban
~When the Environmental Protection Agency says no, it means it when it comes to the Yazoo Backwater Project. In an effort to head off any future flood-control pump construction in the Yazoo River basin, EPA administrators have expanded the number of central Mississippi counties covered by its proposed veto of the project from one to six.
More from Friends of the Sunflower River.
"Several Hundred Thousand Dollars" ~Moldy City
New Orleans to begin citing residents of FEMA trailers
St. Bernard council is moving back home
A taste of New Orleans generosity~Residents of the recently flooded neighborhood, which includes Normandy Drive, found a black iron pot filled with jambalaya, Hubig's deep-fried pies, a boom box playing Zydeco music, Mardi Gras bead necklaces and Zapp's Cajun-style potato chips.
U.S. experts hesitate to rank Iowa's disaster
New Orleans: The Breakfast
Archbishop suppresses 18 New Orleans parishes; more closings to come
Cleanup Day at Holt Cemetary
~Holt Cemetery, Burial Ground of Buddy Bolden, Jesse Hill~More here.
Some graves are highly decorated like this one that has empty chairs and a fence around it.
“Take care when you handle Cliche’ lest you draw offense of Metaphor as neither will honor what they seem in life--nor what you would wish of them in death.”~Down the Gravedigger.
The Body Betrays Us
Let We Forget
~Our New Orleans Saints
"They threw a noomey rooter back in our face"
~Your Right Hand Thief
Narrowing the "Viewpoint"
Green is the theme for Loyola’s campus renovations
Fargo, ND to decide among five flood plans
Religion throws wrinkle into Iowa flood recovery
Skin infections afflict Iowa flood cleanup hazards
Heavy rains complicate Calif. firefighting efforts
Infrastructure: Has America 'Had its Day'? ~Planetizen
New engines, fuel costs highlight ATA MC&E agenda for October
~The American Trucking Associations announced an all-star lineup for the 2008 ATA Management Conference & Exhibition (MC&E), which will be held in New Orleans Oct. 4-7.
-bridge for emerging contemporary art
Mississippi writer pens Katrina story - twice!~slabbed
A Taste of Home
Update on sequel to "When the Levees Broke", more on David Simon ~Dave Walker
Ken Burns' Jazz~Jolly Joker
Warhol-Inspired Cocktails To Debut at W New Orleans This Wednesday
The 4th Annual Tab Benoit Golf Classic
The Story of Down
by Editilla O'rilla d'Aphasia
“Take care when you handle Cliche’ lest you draw offense of Metaphor as neither will honor what they seem in life--nor what you would wish of them in death.” …said Down the Gravedigger.“I could not agree more.” mutters Bourgeois to himself only. His words fall like pennies on a damp vault floor amidst the scattered sounds of fat raindrops as they begin to hit the tiny streets and little stone buildings of this city of the dead. Above, shit-brown clouds fly over the rooftops of the Quarters like the surface of a dirt road as seen from three inches away at thirty mph. Yet he feels neither breeze nor even a cool sigh from the rain falling straight down into the cemetery. He had already seen Metaphor kill here, just minutes ago, before the weather changed. Now he needs to get away, get out of this labyrinth, get normal again somewhere hidden, before the Guard makes another sweep through the hood with their humvees and big hard spotlights. Thank the Devil their helicopters are grounded for the coming storm. Cliche’ cares not for uniformed authority. Their spotlights and loud machines and the misunderstanding of control in their barked orders make her nervous. Whenever Cliche’ gets nervous Metaphor comes into play and the scene changes quickly, irrevocably.
Having seen enough of that for one night, Bourgeois just wants find someplace more comfortable to settle down before the storm opens up properly and real darkness falls over the city again like a rat bag. Plus, it just would do no good --none at all-- to be seen right now with the bloody twins, especially out after the city-wide curfew --and especially after they both ripped apart and consumed four confident, well armed heroine dealers and their murdered Master Down, erased to the bone
five dead humans you won't find listed in the social registry of this, or any other little easy necropolis.
Bourgeois Melonsong is their Master now,
for better or for worse, which he already knew as the deal with Cliche' and Metaphor.
But where is the fucking gate out of this filthy maze?
He came in through it, the only entrance, but still for the life of him he can’t even find the wall around the place.
If he could make it to a wall then he could work his way around through the Stations, always keeping to the right, along the Society vaults until he reached the front gate. Cliche’ and Metaphor are no help, of course.
They don't care, having grown up in these tiny towns across the city. They lead Bourgeois along, as if he were a writer with all the time in the world to study the names on each address, ponder how they came to be here and when. Therein lies the rub. He is a writer and he indeed knows something of the stories behind some of the citizens of this city that care forgot and the Presidente left for dead. And he has no time for bullshit dog tricks.