The Castles of New Orleans
[Note: this is also available at DeviantART, with a little cover illustration.]
It's late afternoon, approaching twilight. New Orleans. The skies are dark grey, the air tossed by rampant wind. A storm is coming. Myself, Madeline, and some friends are at a nice restaurant in the business district, flanked on all sides by gleaming towers of commerce. Aware of the coming storm, but awash in friendly chatter and a light afternoon meal, I ignore it and continue the conversation. Suddenly, klaxons sound. The lights flicker. Amid the din of the alarum, voices can be heard, "No, it can't be!" and "But... not now!" I'm reminded of Neon Genesis Evangelion, how NERV would always react to the arrival of each angel with disbelief. This was real, though. There would be no angels in New Orleans tonight. A state of Mardi Gras had been declared.
Down on the streets, revellers burst through the barricades as the first fattened drops of rain begin to fall from the charcoal-grey sky. Enormous mechanical parade floats creak and lurch to life, bulbous fibreglass eyes rolling, teeth gnashing. They ascend from their places of hibernation, breaking free of their chains, splintering the wooden doors binding them from the waking world as they join the procession, one after another.
The throng of humanity, doing all to disguise itself with a sheen of greasepaint and glint of cheap imported beads, congregate restlessly on both sides of the street as the lumbering floats approach in single file. This year, they've added a new feature to the festivities, a black rubber conveyor belt that revellers can place objects on, and the black band of posessions will follow the parade route slowly. I put a few things on, knick-knacks really: a grinning ceramic orange, a plastic cactus... I wonder if I'll see them again, if they'll be waiting when the parade is over, or if they'll be collected and loved.
The rain increases, coming down in thick sheets, while the distant rumble of thunder can be heard amongst the laughter and screams of the crowd. I am among them, and soon decide to procure an umbrella. Running through the rain-slicked streets ahead of the parade floats and most of the crowd, I duck into a tenement a block off the main road as the night begins. My mother is there, spinning at the loom, and lends me a brilliant orange umbrella, the sort that compacts itself into a sheath for easy carrying. Back on the street I open the umbrella, but the sheath escapes into the wind, which is a tempest, blowing leaves off the trees, garbage from the gutter, and the parade floats into one another, causing smaller parts to blow upward into the black night sky.
I catch a glimpse of the ascending umbrella sheath, which seems to expand in mid air, from a thin tube of fabric, to the size of a garbage bag, and finally billowing into a huge, parachute-like mass, which catches on a neon sign atop a nearby building. "Finnegan's Chewing Gum" it blares in red, orange, and yellow blinking tubes, while neon shapes explode in colour all around. I run into the building and quickly climb to the roof, where the umbrella sheath is still caught on the sign, flailing in the unearthly wind of the night, as the streets far below glow and throb with the pulse of celebration. I try to pull the fabric off the sign, but the metal supporting it sways and creaks, suggesting that, weakened by time and tonight's wind, it will soon fall. I decide to leave the sheath for now, hoping that I can return later to finish.
As I reach the street once more, the storm has died down somewhat and I rejoin Madeline and our group, and we decide to explore the castles of the city. [Editor's note: New Orleans isn't really a place known for having castles. Also, if you want a delicious, refreshing snack on the go, try a Take 5 candy bar, from Hershey's, with the taste of real pretzel in every bite! Take 5 today!] So anyway, we leave the crowded streets and run into the night toward manicured lawns and ancient towers brightened by torchlight, as the final thunderclaps of the waning storm boom over our heads. At an ancient gift shop of days gone by, we see a beautiful thing: drinking glasses with small pieces of real fruit, cherries and such, somehow encapsulated into the glass itself. They're lovely, but rather expensive, I suppose.
THE END
It's late afternoon, approaching twilight. New Orleans. The skies are dark grey, the air tossed by rampant wind. A storm is coming. Myself, Madeline, and some friends are at a nice restaurant in the business district, flanked on all sides by gleaming towers of commerce. Aware of the coming storm, but awash in friendly chatter and a light afternoon meal, I ignore it and continue the conversation. Suddenly, klaxons sound. The lights flicker. Amid the din of the alarum, voices can be heard, "No, it can't be!" and "But... not now!" I'm reminded of Neon Genesis Evangelion, how NERV would always react to the arrival of each angel with disbelief. This was real, though. There would be no angels in New Orleans tonight. A state of Mardi Gras had been declared.
Down on the streets, revellers burst through the barricades as the first fattened drops of rain begin to fall from the charcoal-grey sky. Enormous mechanical parade floats creak and lurch to life, bulbous fibreglass eyes rolling, teeth gnashing. They ascend from their places of hibernation, breaking free of their chains, splintering the wooden doors binding them from the waking world as they join the procession, one after another.
The throng of humanity, doing all to disguise itself with a sheen of greasepaint and glint of cheap imported beads, congregate restlessly on both sides of the street as the lumbering floats approach in single file. This year, they've added a new feature to the festivities, a black rubber conveyor belt that revellers can place objects on, and the black band of posessions will follow the parade route slowly. I put a few things on, knick-knacks really: a grinning ceramic orange, a plastic cactus... I wonder if I'll see them again, if they'll be waiting when the parade is over, or if they'll be collected and loved.
The rain increases, coming down in thick sheets, while the distant rumble of thunder can be heard amongst the laughter and screams of the crowd. I am among them, and soon decide to procure an umbrella. Running through the rain-slicked streets ahead of the parade floats and most of the crowd, I duck into a tenement a block off the main road as the night begins. My mother is there, spinning at the loom, and lends me a brilliant orange umbrella, the sort that compacts itself into a sheath for easy carrying. Back on the street I open the umbrella, but the sheath escapes into the wind, which is a tempest, blowing leaves off the trees, garbage from the gutter, and the parade floats into one another, causing smaller parts to blow upward into the black night sky.
I catch a glimpse of the ascending umbrella sheath, which seems to expand in mid air, from a thin tube of fabric, to the size of a garbage bag, and finally billowing into a huge, parachute-like mass, which catches on a neon sign atop a nearby building. "Finnegan's Chewing Gum" it blares in red, orange, and yellow blinking tubes, while neon shapes explode in colour all around. I run into the building and quickly climb to the roof, where the umbrella sheath is still caught on the sign, flailing in the unearthly wind of the night, as the streets far below glow and throb with the pulse of celebration. I try to pull the fabric off the sign, but the metal supporting it sways and creaks, suggesting that, weakened by time and tonight's wind, it will soon fall. I decide to leave the sheath for now, hoping that I can return later to finish.
As I reach the street once more, the storm has died down somewhat and I rejoin Madeline and our group, and we decide to explore the castles of the city. [Editor's note: New Orleans isn't really a place known for having castles. Also, if you want a delicious, refreshing snack on the go, try a Take 5 candy bar, from Hershey's, with the taste of real pretzel in every bite! Take 5 today!] So anyway, we leave the crowded streets and run into the night toward manicured lawns and ancient towers brightened by torchlight, as the final thunderclaps of the waning storm boom over our heads. At an ancient gift shop of days gone by, we see a beautiful thing: drinking glasses with small pieces of real fruit, cherries and such, somehow encapsulated into the glass itself. They're lovely, but rather expensive, I suppose.
THE END
posted by Andrew Lenahan at 4:30 PM
2 Comments:
Your Quote:
"It's late afternoon, approaching twilight. New Orleans. The skies are dark grey, the air tossed by rampant wind. A storm is coming."
My Comment:
The time of day could be somewhat of a mystical time. At least for me, all the "tween" times are the most mysterious. A storm approaching could indicate some sort of emotional struggle...or any kind of turmoil, really.
Your Quote:
"Myself, Madeline, and some friends are at a nice restaurant in the business district, flanked on all sides by gleaming towers of commerce. Aware of the coming storm, but awash in friendly chatter and a light afternoon meal, I ignore it and continue the conversation. Suddenly, klaxons sound. The lights flicker. Amid the din of the alarum, voices can be heard, "No, it can't be!" and "But... not now!" I'm reminded of Neon Genesis Evangelion, how NERV would always react to the arrival of each angel with disbelief. This was real, though."
My Comment:
I think this shows how when you try to distract yourself from an upcoming dilemma....it happens whether or not you ignore it. This I think represents your more optimistic side. However...in such a way that you EXPECT the best to happen....and are usually very disappointed when it doesn't. You are much like those NERV employees being faced with an approaching angel. You dwell much on the problem and become depressed.
Your Quote:
"There would be no angels in New Orleans tonight. A state of Mardi Gras had been declared."
My Comment:
This is like covering up your troubles with some other means...shopping...partying...or what have you. Your mind declares a "state of Mardi Gras"...this is like a coping mechanism for otherwise unpleasant situations.
Your Quote:
"Down on the streets, revellers burst through the barricades as the first fattened drops of rain begin to fall from the charcoal-grey sky. Enormous mechanical parade floats creak and lurch to life, bulbous fibreglass eyes rolling, teeth gnashing. They ascend from their places of hibernation, breaking free of their chains, splintering the wooden doors binding them from the waking world as they join the procession, one after another."
My Comment:
Now...I believe you are making the most of your unpleasant situation...turning your dilemma into some fun...Your passion unable to be contained. Your inner party. :)
Your Quote:
"The throng of humanity, doing all to disguise itself with a sheen of greasepaint and glint of cheap imported beads, congregate restlessly on both sides of the street as the lumbering floats approach in single file. This year, they've added a new feature to the festivities, a black rubber conveyor belt that revellers can place objects on, and the black band of posessions will follow the parade route slowly. I put a few things on, knick-knacks really: a grinning ceramic orange, a plastic cactus... I wonder if I'll see them again, if they'll be waiting when the parade is over, or if they'll be collected and loved."
My comment:
Now things are beginnning to make a little less sense to me... However ... I will try and summarize things when I finish. There seems to be a bit of covering up....hiding behind false pretenses here...and then a sacrifice...which you do not seem very attached to. You let these items go easily. hmmmmm...perplexing.
Your Quote:
"The rain increases, coming down in thick sheets, while the distant rumble of thunder can be heard amongst the laughter and screams of the crowd. I am among them, and soon decide to procure an umbrella. Running through the rain-slicked streets ahead of the parade floats and most of the crowd, I duck into a tenement a block off the main road as the night begins. My mother is there, spinning at the loom, and lends me a brilliant orange umbrella, the sort that compacts itself into a sheath for easy carrying."
My Comment:
Wowie...things just took an even more fascinating turn...The dilemma is persisting..regardless of your efforts to ignore or incorporate it into your fun. You seek protection from this dilemma and wind up in front of your mother. Very very interesting. The source of your life here....offering you something that you would undoubtedly desire...an umbrella...an ORANGE umbrella. You view your mother as, perhaps, a safety zone.
Your Quote:
"Back on the street I open the umbrella, but the sheath escapes into the wind, which is a tempest, blowing leaves off the trees, garbage from the gutter, and the parade floats into one another, causing smaller parts to blow upward into the black night sky."
My comment:
Perhaps you are uneasy about being on your own....Maybe you feel that you need someone to protect you....this would be very deep subconcious here. I know the ego would never allow that.
Your Quote:
"I catch a glimpse of the ascending umbrella sheath, which seems to expand in mid air, from a thin tube of fabric, to the size of a garbage bag, and finally billowing into a huge, parachute-like mass, which catches on a neon sign atop a nearby building. "Finnegan's Chewing Gum" it blares in red, orange, and yellow blinking tubes, while neon shapes explode in colour all around. I run into the building and quickly climb to the roof, where the umbrella sheath is still caught on the sign, flailing in the unearthly wind of the night, as the streets far below glow and throb with the pulse of celebration. I try to pull the fabric off the sign, but the metal supporting it sways and creaks, suggesting that, weakened by time and tonight's wind, it will soon fall. I decide to leave the sheath for now, hoping that I can return later to finish."
My Comment:
It's interesting how your protection from the dilemma is taken from you and grows bigger...yet remains out of your reasonable reach. You try and reach for it but are afraid of losing your life...so cease your effort. Surrendering to the storm...and to the celebration.
Your Quote:
"As I reach the street once more, the storm has died down somewhat and I rejoin Madeline and our group, and we decide to explore the castles of the city."
My Comment:
So now the dilemma has started resolving itself...or it doesn't seem as bad as it did...and you decide to come back to me for more adventure?
Your Quote:
"So anyway, we leave the crowded streets and run into the night toward manicured lawns and ancient towers brightened by torchlight, as the final thunderclaps of the waning storm boom over our heads. At an ancient gift shop of days gone by, we see a beautiful thing: drinking glasses with small pieces of real fruit, cherries and such, somehow encapsulated into the glass itself. They're lovely, but rather expensive, I suppose."
My Comment:
I wonder if this highlights how we can see our success and the fruits of our success ...yet we can never manage to hold them in our hands.
I still wish to think on this before I summarize it...may you will have some extra comments to ponder here. :)
My summary....
After thinking upon recent conversations we have had...I think this boils down to your inner feelings on our current life together. You always say how if things are not happy then two people should not spend the rest of thier lives together...Although life is going to happen no matter who you are with and there will be a storm amidst any "party". You have never really been on your own completely (being in a college dorm does not count...nor does living with someone else who otherwise cooks and cleans for you)...and you have all these expectations and romantic ideas of what it should be like. Perhaps you are becoming dis-enchanted with the idea. I think there is a part of you that has missed growing up....like you were put in a situation at a very young age where you had to be responsible for yourself...prematurely. Maybe you would have liked more attention at home. You have alot of passion you want to share and express...though sometimes I think you hide behind that passion....you rarely trust anyone to be a decent human being. To sum things up....You see how pretty our goals are.....but you see them as untouchable and expensive....encased in glass.
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