Strange as it may seem, this life is based on a true story." - Ashleigh Brilliant
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Sunday, August 28, 2005
Nothing new to report, but no news - at this point - is good news.
The house is so quiet, what with most of the electrical appliances unplugged.
Again, an eerie stillness has descended outside. Not a drop of rain; not a leaf stirring.
I read an article that said New Orleans, if filled up with 20'-30' of water, would become a huge toxic lake; a cesspool of toxic chemicals from nearby plants, household products and busted sewer lines - with a large number of floating coffins thrown in for nice measure.
Coffins. I didn't think of that. A few hours after Andrew I saw a coffin - floating in its own grave; a coffin that had, previously, been 6' feet under for the preceding ten years. I hadn't thought about coffins in New Orleans, but it is a thought to make you shudder.
In a city below sea level, you don't bury your dead underground, and our wild and wicked city is known for its "City of the Dead" - miles and miles of above-ground cemeteries. Some of those graves are hundreds of years old, and would likely bust open quite easily with enough water pushed up against them.
City of the Floating Dead. Nice.
(I thought you'd like to know I originally wrote that "City of the Undead" and "City of the Floating Undead" - and it was quite some time before I caught the mistake. An old horror buff never changes...lol).
Again, all is quiet and still; it's unnerving. Every now and again I hear the big rigs downshifting on the Interstate. The crickets, which had tapered off and even changed their song, are silent now. Even the lone bird I'd heard crying at sunset has flown off to safer places, apparently.
Another article I read said Baton Rouge and East of it would "take the brunt of the storm". Whoopee.
I'm terribly bothered that New Orleans is going to be so destroyed; I love that city!! Maybe even more troublesome, for me, is the fact that she would take a beating from a bitch named Katrina. Katrina; sounds like some 90 lb., hairsprayed, bleached-blonde crackwhore with no teeth (all apologies to my readers named Katrina - I merely mean a storm named Katrina brings this image to mind. Right.)
-sigh- The waiting is the worst. You know this massive force of destruction is headed towards you. You know it's going to hit - and all you can do is sit and wait for it to come. Right now, that's where we're at. The waiting - the not knowing - the hoping you don't have to expect the worst, and the praying that the city that has your heart is not drowned by a crackwhore named Katrina in the next 24 hours!!!!