Gentilly Girl- a part of the 99%

Someone asked me what I mean by using the term “Isle d’Orleans” in some of my posts. It’s something I learned during my childhood here along the Coast.
My mother used to tell me about the history of the Gulf Coast, and why we are different from the rest of the country. Ashley Morris sums it up quite well;

“I’ve always said that from about Panama City to Lafayette, and about 50 miles inland (not including Tallahassee or Baton Rouge) should be one state. I mean, do the people of New Orleans have diddley in common with the people of Bossier City? Do the people of Mobile have anything in common with the people of Montgomery? Do the people of Port St. Joe have anything in common with the snobs of Boca Raton? Hell no. But the coast, the coast has always been special. We all pretty much get it, although now Pensacola is more a military retiree home, and they’re trying to impose their Ohio values on people that just want to drink beer and fish.”

We are living in what was French-held territory. We were bought or ceded to the U.S. We are an “occupied” nation. Our world was subjected by the acts of Powers that did not consider the inhabitants. The treatment we have received by the U.S. over the years reflects these facts. We have more than enough reasons to stand alone.
We ARE the true melting pot of this country. In most of the Nation, communities are segregated. Here in the Isle d’Orleans, we freakin’ MELD. We become yet another ingrediant in that strange gumbo that makes up our people down here. Why do you think Mid-America likes to visit here?

Our culture is different, and it calls to the Inner Self that screams for the different, the communal, the REAL. That sums us up: the Real. (No wonder we aren’t accepted in the general culture.)

More to come babes…

Sinn Fein

I was just looking back on the post I wrote about First Draft’s kind words about us, then I hopped over to some of my favorite bloggers for some inspiration and memory jogging. I have to do this: there’s way too much going on in the city, and then there is nothing whatsoever happening.

Then it hit me: how the freakin’ Hell can this life here continue? What’s the damn point? I started crying. (been doing that alot.) My body began to shake.
It’s just that everything seems impossible, and I know it ain’t true. Just feels like that. I guess there’s a not so small bout of personal self pity hitting. Fear is in the mix too.  And then anger starts to rise. Vox clamantis en Deserto…

Looking out my front door calms most of this down. I see a roofing job finished across the street. The folks next door are sheathing their place. Our landlord got a washing machine yesterday. One of the Faeries gave me a portable closet yesterday that i have to find room for here. Our cats are bouncing off their cat tree. A smile comes.

All of us along the Coast are going through episodes like this, whether they know it or not. Some have been able to start getting their lives back into order… most can’t even begin yet. We feel forgotten, not by this country, but by that which is supposed to help us get the job done down here. It’s the Katrina Slog.  The real Katrina Fatigue. They are slowly breaking so many of us down by bits and pieces. This cannot stand.
For those of you Gentle Readers who peruse my little blog, you know I am battling very serious health concerns, have been for decades. I wonder how long I can stay healthy with the strain of living like this. I worry about others who are in worse health situations, like friends that are already dying slow deaths from HIV and cancer. (Fundraiser for one of them this Sunday.) Like the old man I helped a few weeks back getting onto a bus. Is he still alive? Did he ever find a place to live? What about the little girl who broke her arm?
In my prayers to the Lady I try to remember them, but all I can actually do is ask for help, love, and protection for all along the Coast. There’s too many hurt folks. Great Mother Goddess! Sweet Joan d’Arc! We all need you now. This city needs you.
We all need each other to survive this whole thing.

Now I’m feeling better… just had to state what is our reality, my truth. It’s very painful living on the Coast or in exile these almost ten months. Good things are coming, but we must wait upon fools that have reasons unlike ours. They want power, money… we want our lives back. Fucking carpetbaggers! How dare you stand in the way of New Orleans’ reparations and Her continued existence?

Get the Hell out of our way! Sinn Fein you slimy assholes! Thieves and liars…

It’s starting to look like the Summer of OUR Discontent, and you impediments to our lives and homes will pay the price. So Mote It Be.

Bless Scout_Prime over at First Draft . It was a very nice piece concerning the NOLA Bloggers.

Thanx hon… somedays many of us wonder why we even get out of bed, then we look outside and see New Orleans, and just carry on. It’s all that can be done.

The next drink is on me.

Sinn Fein!