Kindra Arnesen. Badass.

29 07 2010

Kindra Arnesen, of Venice, Louisiana, is what you might call an accidental activist. That’s not to say she’s not wired for the job or not good at it, but I think it’s safe to say it’s not a role she cherishes or ever expected to be thrust into. She’s the wife of a Gulf fisherman and mother to two little children she evacuated from Venice for health reasons, no longer wanting to expose them to the toxic dispersants used by BP, not to mention the, you know, oil. She’s also an inspirational and fearless leader, a voice for the so-called “small people” of South Louisiana’s fishing communities. She’s feisty, sharp, and strong-willed, and I wouldn’t want to go up against her. However, knowing she’s out there, speaking truth to power without any hesitation, makes me feel better.

All of us down here and across the Coast — and, shoot, across this country — owe her a big thank you. So, Kindra, on the off-chance you ever see this, thank you, and please, I know the fight is long and tiring, but we need you. Keep it up.

Here are two videos that can better illustrate Kindra’s strength than I can with words:

Spilling Over  (The Washington Post – a powerful video about the possibility that Venice, LA will cease to exist altogether)

Venice, Louisiana Needs to Evacuate (YouTube — this is a speech Kindra gave back in June and was the first thing I saw about her)





For all the Gulf critters

20 07 2010

I happily picked up my new Mignon Faget pelican pendant today, which benefits the Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana. If you’re not familiar with Mignon Faget’s work, she is local jeweler (and fifth generation New Orleanian!) who has been making beautiful pieces in sterling silver and gold for over 40 years. Her “Gulf Coast” collection contains gorgeous renderings of oysters, pelicans, redfish, speckled trout, and yellowfin tuna, all benefitting the Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana. This won’t stop my heartache for the animals, but hopefully I’ve helped them just a bit, and I’ll wear my pelican with pride.

Here’s a link to her online site and this specific collection, if you’re interested: http://www.mignonfaget.com/shop/category/gulf-coast.html





Happy July 4th from the Big Easy!

4 07 2010





Beads in trees

2 07 2010

I love seeing the beautiful old trees Uptown draped in beads from passing Mardi Gras floats. Saw this tree on Magazine Street last night, headed to see the Soul Rebels (with apparently every other person in town) at Le Bon Temps Roule.

And the Soul Rebels… Good Lord it was hot and crowded in there, but so fun.





It’s like they’re filled with so much promise

29 06 2010

The tree-lined sidewalk outside Louis Armstrong Park, near Mahalia Jackson Theater. (Of course, there’s also trash on the ground. This is New Orleans, after all. People in this town love to litter, I swear. Sucks.)





Day 65

24 06 2010

Day 65
The oil continues to flow.
The fish, the turtles, the birds, the dolphins, the crabs continue
to live, to breathe, to breed, to feed,
in the poisonous muck.
Unable to escape it
while here I sit, complaining about the heat from within my air-conditioned nest,
able to forget for just a split second that I have it so good.
That we all have it so good.
That we aren’t living, as they are, in filthy certain death
and decay.

Day 65
A charter boat operator shot himself yesterday over in Alabama
aboard his boat
which no longer shuttled men, and families, and whomever, out to fish
and have fun
on the gorgeous Gulf.
But instead, was supposed to be a sickeningly named “vessel of opportunity” for B.P.
cleaning up what was left of his prior life, what was left of what had been so beautiful.
He couldn’t take it
and he, sadly, won’t be the last.
I say a little prayer for his family.
I know a little something about suicide, but do not pretend
to know anything close to the despair
that all those whose livelihoods depend on fishing and the water
are now feeling.

Day 65
And it’s still not fair, to anyone, to any of us, to all of us.
It’s still not fixed.
It still flows, horrible, ugly, like a growing disease, a cancer, infecting the Gulf,
infecting us all.
The animals still suffer.
The fishermen still suffer.
The families of the 11 dead oil rig workers still suffer.
And now, out beyond the Gulf, far out, but still,
there sits an area of so-called “disturbed weather.”
Talk about disturbed. We are all disturbed.
We are all sick here. Watching. Waiting. Wondering. Wandering. Wishing. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Day 65.





A Treme sunset

21 06 2010

The sunset Saturday evening here in New Orleans was breathtaking. I braved the voracious mosquitos to try to capture it. Such beauty.





Grasshopper on Hibiscus

19 06 2010

Saw this little fellow on one of my hibiscus blooms this morning. Not sure why the photos came out as they did — maybe my hand was shaking? Or it’s just so damn hot that the camera was swooning? Why don’t I just act like that’s “an effect” that I intended? Yeah, sure, that’s it… Still, I like ‘em, so hey.





Reflections on being a New Orleanian

18 06 2010

I’m not sure I qualify yet as an official New Orleanian, having only lived here since the beginning of October, but my heart certainly feels like I do. I grew up in a small Mississippi town just two hours away from here and spent my childhood loving our family trips to New Orleans, dreaming of a day when I could live here. In high school, I wanted nothing more than a little room in New Orleans, a coffee pot, my books, and notepads to write in. To me, that was the biggest and best future I could imagine. It still is.

It took me a lot longer to get here than I thought it would, but it makes me appreciate it more, as does taking trips to other places. I just got back from several days in D.C., an area I lived in for nearly 11 years before moving here. It’s remarkable to me how different I feel in the two places. No disrespect intended to the District, and I have many lovely, talented, and wonderful friends left in the area, but I feel absolutely hollow when I am there. I feel empty, I feel nothing. I am not inspired. I am not moved. Nothing.

The second I was back in New Orleans, it was like I could breathe again, like I felt like myself. I can’t explain why my soul seems to connect with this city so much; I just know it does. I finally feel at home, and at ease, and like I belong somewhere. Sure, we may be a town of misfit, lazy, weird slowpokes, where it’s pointless to get too worked up about things running late or breaking down or just plain not working right. But I much prefer that to the East Coast uptight soulless get-ahead-at-any-cost workaholic attitude that pervades up there. I know there are many good things about the D.C. area. They just don’t fit with me. And that’s ok.

I am lucky enough to live in a place now that inspires me constantly, that makes me want to write, that presents things daily I want to take pictures of.  And I am lucky to know so many who live here and feel as I do. We are all in love with our city, and with one another.

Ah, it just feels so good to be home, in every way.





Down in the Treme

17 06 2010

Love that song, love the show, love living here. Here’s a couple of shots I took on a recent walk around my neighborhood.








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