It’s just June 1st everywhere else
Today marks the beginning of Hurricane Season and from what Mayor Landrieu told us the waters in the Gulf are warmer than usual for this time and so we might expect a bad season – bad in any sense, a storm could do as much damage as a Category 4 Hurricane according to experts. And here we sit, waiting to learn our fate.
Right now, work continues on the LaLa, the nonstop maintenance that comes from living in a city that is under assault from sun and water and heat and moisture, forget about the bugs like termites that are biblical in their swarming tendencies, and if the drink doesn’t kill you, or the rich food doesn’t blow you up like a pregnant poisoned dog then perhaps you will survive long enough to watch your house sink into the abyss.
I’m fortified because at this juncture in my life, after losing and regaining, I know the answer ’bout next time, it’s head for the hills. We’ll relocate to Croatia where we will grow olives and defend our gay lifestyle with molotov cocktails that we keep next to the gin. In our forced exile we won’t own mod cons – not one plasma screen or iPhone will come near us in our nirvana luddite way of life.
I have no fear of the future, I am working stridently on my fear of today.
Let the season begin…