News Roundup

I haven't posted in a few days, so please, my loyal readership, accept my apologies. Here's a few things going on in my world.

Salvaging from New Orleans was a little easier this time. I had my apartment to myself, needing to call out for a ride when I got done. It no longer really felt like mine, so perhaps I'm adjusting to apartment complex life. Lakeview was another matter entirely. The whole neutral ground between West End and Pontchartrain is a staging area for garbage. Trees, gutting insides of houses, it's all there and piled three stories deep in places. Again, there's signs at every intersection showing services

My brother found another site that shows what's open in New Orleans and marries it to Google Maps. Check out weshallrise.org.

Saturday, I drove downtown thinking I could salvage an item or two from my office in the Tulane School of Medicine. The CBD, like Lakeview, was eerily empty. It looked like the area took five feet of water, and I realized again what it means for the city to be below sea level. As a child growing up, I never thought much of it. For some reason it really sunk in while standing in the nearly deserted CBD. Both my building and the hospital across the street had huge umbilical tubes for the dehumidifiers into the main entrances. I saw a long line of Port-O-Lets and sanitation stations. I saw a trailer labeled MEDICAL WASTE - BIOHAZZARD. I started to rethink my plan to salvage from my office, but as I was only a few feet away, I decided to keep looking. My normal walking autopilot kicked in and I began to enter via my usual route- but the door was boarded. At the next entrance, I discovered an end-of-E.T.-like plastic barrier a few steps inside. I saw a shadowy figure moving behind it, who moved to unzip the barrier. A worker in full messy gear strolls out- bunny suit, dual-filter breathing apparatus, goggles. I changed my mind very quickly about salvaging without protection.

While I was in the neighborhood, I got a chance to talk with Tim, my boss. I don't know if he realized it, but it was a very Yoda/mentoring/father figure/old man of the mountain moment for me. He definitely helped me get into a forward mental gear.

At the airport, I picked up the Sunday Times-Picayune. The feature article, Where They Died, discussed the dead. I couldn't find the map online, but it was pretty sobering. Imagine a ZIP code by ZIP code breakdown for Orleans parish and individual dots for individual bodies found in Jefferson.

I made it safe and sound back into Austin. Interestingly, my cab driver back from the airport was a laid-off city planner, so he knew the city extremely well. Perhaps I just have bad luck with cab drivers, but it seems that more often than not, we get a cabbie who's out of his zone or new to the job.

Almost instantly after getting home, I needed to run back out again. Austin has a sizable population of didgeridoo players, and Sunday afternoon marked a get-together and jam session. It's the first time I've been around more than one skilled player. I had a great time playing and talking to others. We swapped a few sticks and I got to play an agave didj for the first time. Incredibly light and with a full, loud, sound, I definitely was impressed. I may actually look into picking one up for keepsies. I did manage to pick up some beeswax, so I'll be able to fix the mouthpiece. I'm extremely stoked to be playing again. With luck, this will be a weekly happening.

I'm also trying to get my collective act together by using the Getting Things Done methodologies. More on this later.