Can You Be Lonely For a Place You've Never Lived?

  I was driving home today with Liam, from an appointment and decided to cruise around the neighborhood a bit. With the weather warming up, it seemed like a shame to go straight home and just sit around. After a few minutes Li fell asleep and I was free to drive around, without any real purpose, letting my mind wander.   As I drove I had this overwhelming feeling that couldn't be named. It suddenly hit me. I was lonely, not for a person or people but for a place.
  Many years ago I became fascinated with New Orleans, as many people do. Saving my pennies, I was able to go for a weekend. It was the only place I've ever been that I knew in an instant, could be home. It was a strange occurrence for me, because I never thought I'd want to leave New York. But it fit. Going to New Orleans was like finding your favorite jacket, that somehow wound up stuffed under your bed. You pull it on and it feels just as good as it always did, and looks even better.
  At the time I was dating someone who worked for an airline and I was able to go to New Orleans once a year, (one year I made it twice), for four years for a mere ten dollars each way. It was heaven.
  All the oddities that made me stand out and alone in high school and college seemed to be quickly embraced. Though my love for New York runs deep, New Orleans didn't have that bit of turned up nose that some New Yorkers have about people. For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged.
  As someone who lacks any sense of direction, I learned the streets quickly, and almost instantly found favorite places to eat and hang out. By the time I took my mother, I was able to walk around, comfortable, pointing out my favorite shops and actually knowing where the hell I was going, another first.
  For years I wanted to spend a summer, just one, in New Orleans, writing. For some reason I could see myself in some little one room walk up, working at a local shop during the day or tending bar and writing every night, all night. The idea of sitting in an unknown yet known city, soaked in sweat, wearing an old t-shirt and boy shorts, bare foot, pounding away on a typewriter with a five and dime turning fan to try to move the heavy air was my idea of a perfect summer. But I could never manage to tear myself away from my home life and responsibilities, from the need to work, not to go away but to pay for school. When my mother got sick I knew my chance was pretty much gone.
  Do I romanticized New Orleans? Somewhat, yes. Is there crime, and poverty? Yes. Name one place in the world that doesn't have crime or poverty. It also has amazing food, open and accepting people, art and music like no other and a style all it's own. Like anywhere else you live or visit, you do not check your reason and common sense at the door. The tourists that come to New York, stand in the middle of the sidewalk looking up, mouths wide open might as well hang a neon sign on their necks reading, "Out of towner, not paying attention, please lift my wallet." Looking comfortable, being aware and not performing actions that scream tourist is always essential when you go anywhere.
  I miss walking around with a bag of my art, jewelry and soaps on my back; popping into stores and making a sale; leaving with my bag lighter and my wallet heavier.  I miss the lack of pretension and delicious otherness of the streets, the cultural blend of the food that made it so damn good that my mouth waters just thinking about it.  I miss it like you miss an old friend.
  I haven't had a chance to go back since Katrina. By then I had dumped my airline worker boyfriend and just couldn't afford it. Part of me is afraid that that uniqueness, that utterly beautiful charm will be gone. I want to go back. I need to go back. I will go back. And, I'll bring my husband and my son, and show them the beauty of a city that was beaten but never broken.

Blind Artist

http://www.mytopclip.com/v/882,the-artist-with-no-eyes.html - This piece is so interesting.  Is it proof that art is not necessarily visual?  Does the artist not have to see with actual eyes but see it is his head?  Is that then visual?

"Smashed - Story of a Drunken Girlhood" By Koren Zailckas

  Last weekend, desperate for something to read after finishing "The Road," the family and I headed for our favorite, local bookstore, "Bent Pages." (Need a good read? Head over to 391 Van Duzer Street, Staten Island, NY, 10304 - The owners K.T. and Robin are just awesome and extremely helpful.)
  After poking around I found, "Smashed - Story of a Drunken Girlhood" By Koren Zailckas in paperback. The back seemed interesting enough. Koren starts drinking at the age of fourteen with her best friend and as she gets older her drinking becomes more destructive.
  I both love and really dislike this book all at once. Koren's writing style is lyrical. It borders on the beauty of poetry inspired by a first love. At times, when writing about drinking, it sounds as though she is writing about a lover. She repeatedly admits she prefers "booze to boys."
"I am aware that the fourteen-year-old girl I tutor in English is a head taller than I am; and while I craft arguments that burn my cheeks because I never spit them out, she extends her opinions even when they aren't complete. I am aware that somewhere along the line, I've subconsciously turned down the pitch of my speech, like a silencer of a gun that softens the sounds of its firing. Now, even when I yell, I don't feel like I am using my full voice."
  How great is that? Anyone who is self conscious knows that feeling so well, and to see it on paper is this amazing sight.
"The boldness that Bud Light sends rolling back to me is just what I've been missing the past few days. When I talk to Tess, thoughts diffuse through me without any of the hesitation that so often trips me up. I speak without rehearsing the words in my head beforehand, and she listens, clapping her hands and agreeing with her whole heart. When I laugh, the hum of my own happiness is astonishing."
  Had I not known Koren wrote poetry this type of writing would have been a knowing nod. That is one of the reasons I loved this book. It was well written, had pop culture references that were spot on and at times she was surprisingly funny.
  What I couldn't stand about the book was the fact that she was getting a $33,000+ education, (not counting books, car insurance, dorm/housing, etc), and she hardly remembers it. Yes, I understand this is my own issue, but it still pisses me off. (It's my issue, but it's my blog, so...nah, nah.) I worked three freakin' jobs to pay for my community college education, (not a dig at community college, but at my lack o' funds), and barely had a chance to enjoy my classes because I was always running to work.
  Yet, here is Koren and scores of other students drinking and getting wasted, without a mention of having to work a job, because presumably no one has to work. Is this why they don't think twice about pissing away a primo education for which I would have given my eye teeth? Does this lack of work ethic explain why in a book consisting of 343 pages, there is almost no mention of classes. (Come to think of it, I don't think there is any mention of classes period,)
  Does this stem from the fact that so many parents like Koren's rather turn a blind eye than notice that their child is not perfect, let alone having issues. For Pete's sake, Koren had her stomach pumped, and later, when she was drinking again, her parents thought nothing of it. Their answer always seemed to be that they knew she was drinking and as long as she did it responsibly ...
  After a while, reading about all the parties and drunkness, it got a little old, much like how the random hook ups in "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell," did.
  Is this what happens when you don't have to work, are given seemingly little to no rules or responsibilities? Koren herself says it the best when she writes,
"Tomorrow, I won't remember much about this bar, which is the first I've ever been in. I will remember only how it felt to be someone's little sister, how good it felt to be relieved of the terrible burden of good judgement. I am relieved, for that matter, of the ability to make choices at all."

  Is it puella aeterna? (The female version of the Peter Pan Syndrome.) I won't have to grown up if I keep shirking responsibility and getting shit faced?
  Towards the end of the book, Koren makes some great points about how today's advertising "alternates between pandering to women and using us to bait men." In a way she's right, but it turns me off how she goes off on the liquor companies for selling liquor, for the government for not allocating money to stop young people from drinking, etc. Though these things have truth to them, there comes a time for personal responsibility. No one forced her to drink. It doesn't run in her family, so she is not prone to it. She liked how it made her feel; brave, less self conscious, more willing to talk. Now she's angry? Yet, she refuses to admit she is an alcoholic. (She feels she abuses alcohol but isn't addicted. Sounds like everyone who has ever been to rehab.)
  The book has been picked up for a movie option. It'll be interesting to see how it pans out. Will it serve as a warning to young people about drinking? Will it help others reminisce about college drunkness? Will it be a blockbuster, a train wreck or just a blip on the screen? One will have to wait to find out.
  If you would like my copy of "Smashed," please feel free to contact me.  Simply pay book rate shipping, (about $2.25) and it's yours.  If you have an APO/military address, it is free shipping as well.

StumbleUpon.com

I'm debating:

Is StumbleUpon a gift from the techno Gods, or a trick of the Devil to suck hours at a time away?  Either way, it is like crack.  I'm reading a book about manners and it mentions why people like to play video games and the internet.  Dopamine is released when hunting and the thrill of the hunt is an actual physical effect.  So, essentially, I have a biological reason for loving StumbleUpon.  Heehee.

Coming soon: Review on "Smashed - A Story of a Drunken Girlhood" by Koren Zailckas