I should be on an Amtrak train right now, snacking on a bag of nine dollar Doritos and trying not to think about how badly I have to pee; I should be on my way to New Orleans. But instead, I am here, sitting at my computer and watching The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood for the 900th time, wishing I was sipping on a hand grenade.
Have you ever just felt like you belonged someplace? You just went somewhere and felt like you didn't understand why you weren't there all along? That is how I feel about New Orleans, even though I have little to nothing in common with the people of the city. But just being there, even in the bad areas, makes me happy- makes me just want to lie on the ground and draw and write poetry. The whole place encourages creativity, from the vibrant color pattern of the city and everyone's clothing to its old world charm. I even miss the bittersweet smell of piss and puke and spilled beer, especially living in Atlanta, a city that is quickly becoming a haven for the super rich, super gay, super chic, super saditty, and super obnoxious. Don't get me wrong, I love the A and it's beautiful array of wannabes, but I have found that if you stay here too long, you will literally begin to choke on everyone's designer labels and demo CDs.
So the snow is melting rapidly, and tomorrow, I will be back on my way to the N.O. where the air is dirty and everyone has an attitude. Ahh, it's like leaving home to visit a fairytale.
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