FULL: Ultimate absorption in the South!

A brief moment of reprieve. A breath of the in-between.
*Let me catch up on the interim since I have been too busy to write anything at all! Today marks three weeks since I left the city I call home although it feels like three years. I began the journey with Mister Scott Moffett, fresh off the proverbial boat from Ess Eff. (Formerly of The Werepad fame, Scott is now running an online B Movie database site that is a must for any film freaks!! We drove to and marvelled at the fog and tiki vibes of the Motel Ronjo in Montauk, which I highly recommend, by the way. We traversed West with rough weather, evacuated flood towns, giant red suns goin' down, the hospitality of my Aunt in the North, Canadian thrift treasures, Michigan midwest depressed cities of former industry and backwoods demolition derby speedways.
*The Following expanse of relaxation and magic were spent at HIggins Lake, Michigan. The home of my great-grandparents cottage, we are lucky enough to still have this time capsule in our family. A sand-bottomed clear lake in the North, filled with sailing, tubing, "Black Water diving" and full cottages of family and friends, the essence is pure and timeless, reminiscient of an F.Scott Fitzgerald moment and the power of pine woods. My mother, ever the gracious hostess, my brother, niece, and close comrades were amazing AND great sports about modelling for photographs (see first Blog entry).
*A guest of the highway, Scott and I drove South. He left from Chicago and I went further through Illinois into Memphis, where a small reunion with pals at the Lamplighter commenced. Shirley's cheeseburgers and the can of PBR are still unbeatable. JD Mark from the Haunted Hearts was sweet enough to let me stay with him and his wife in Oxford and we stayed up into the night, talking records, natch.
*Next stop: NOLA. I had no idea what to expect when I entered the remains of one of the city centers of magic at Dusk last Wednesday. Media-fueled images of looters and the National Guard swam in my mind. What lay before my visage was the bare skeleton of a community, ravaged and sad. The slow pace of neglect that already attended many parts of New Orleans pre-Katrina was now exaggerated as whole neighborhoods sit, untouched. Ghost towns with X'd building from FEMA, checking for pets or the dead, starting to fade in the endless, oppressive Southern sun. Gutted shells of peoples lives in the Ninth Ward, Mid-City, St. Bernard Parish, Chalmette, East New Orleans...Small groups of church kids with dust masks helping to gut; old men patching their roofs alone in 92 degrees with scraps; Shuttered up public housing and supermarkets with smashed windows and empty parking lots. I could continue, but the general impression is understood. WHERE are those billions of dollars in aid???!!???
*Joining up with my dear pal Greg Ayres and his work, a group called
ACTION project/Dreamyard from the Bronx. I have spent the last week with a group of 20 teenagers here to work with local kids in the 7th Ward and share experiences and talk about building community through making art. More photos and details about this incredible group in days to come. I head East today to reconvene with them in Bay St. Louis/Gulfport.