Cities Of The Dead: Masonic Cemetery No. One, New Orleans (Season Two Premier)

Another Cemetery District location. Just reading the words "Masonic" and "Cemetery" likely evokes some fantastic imagery, but this site is far less flamboyant than it's peer cemeteries. It is nevertheless picturesque, and there are some historic graves should be visited.

 

The Death Of Mangroves

 When I wrote 'The Death Of Oranjes', it was to say goodbye to a brief, yet, life-changing period of my life. I used it as an avenue to thank all of the people that became a part of my Orlando-life. It was filled with secrets, poorly-worded homages, and half-assed placation that has had nearly no reach on my life in New Orleans. This New Orleans-life has few; almost no intersections. This has as much been a visit as rife with ghosts as the city I inhabit. It's been my frenetic failure from a selfish, collapsing, inhuman; to a married parent crafting the world of another; straight through to the transparent collapse of our lives thanks to Covid and an unforgiving conglomerate. Not because of this, but in spite of this, something new is afoot.

In time, I will be able to decide if New Orleans is only the first chapters of a longer novel (let's call it the Thomas Wolfe) of my life. Or, if, as I suspect, New Orleans for me is the tired cliché that so many people before me have turned into brilliant flames of unforgiving works. My flames are brilliant, because I stoked the flames so perniciously; failure after failure, after failure. Maybe New Orleans is my (O' Henry), a short-story with kings, chaos, and curated culture unique only to these pages. I too, ran from my indictments and I too became someone else.

Since I mentioned him, it's time to say this. If you are going to have a bookstore, maybe the finest, or perhaps most revered used bookstore in all of North Carolina, and your store is on the corner or O' Henry Street... maybe you could keep a copy or two of some of his books in stock? Guess who's grave I took time to find while I was visiting Asheville? 

Tomorrow, I load a U-Haul with 2/3 of our belongings (I hope I get that much), and on Thursday, I drive that U-Haul to West North Carolina. It will be one of two hauls to our new home, the latter taking place in November. I'm not at all excited to find out how one gets a U-Haul loaded with records up a mountain, but I can't change the circumstances, so I'll do my best to not worry about it. Surely, someone is on YouTube to explain this to me. My head is stuck in the hurdle of the move, and I'm struggling to visualize what it looks like when we are there. There's the crush of settling somewhere completely new and having to find work quickly. It will be Thanksgiving rolling down a hill to Christmas with most of our stuff in storage, and every dollar as precious as the blood in my veins.

And why is this happening? It's painfully as much about New Orleans, as it is Asheville. A gumbo of car-shattering streets; corrupted systems propped upon the bones of history; the inadequacy of a city to elevate its poorest citizens while using those same citizens as the caretakers of the inebriated royalty that use our oldest neighborhoods as toilets and a feckless pursuit of fun that ends in sugar-saturated-strong-armed-robbery and statistic-burying tourist board. You, who bought those plastic beads, and only remember 1/3 of the days you were here - are for whom this city provides a red carpet. It is this monarchy, and our intervals of daunting heat, massive rapidly-intensified hurricanes, and an electric, water, and sewage grid that predates cars...vs. an unknown nestled between mountains covered in lush greenery, summer nights that relieve and relax and aren't as hot as the clothes coming out of a dryer, home ownership, and fuck, I hate saying it, but it's clean. This very moment, 1-month after Hurricane Ida, in a city that, at worst, suffered power loss and wind damage, there are still trash piles taller than a human and longer than a city bus all over the city. This is the life you adjust to when you make New Orleans your home. Schools are almost all terrible, crime is rampant and increasing, all of the available jobs are in sales or in the service industry, and it's expensive to live here. The good, however, is such a varied menagerie of the unique that it's heart-breaking thinking it won't be a part of my life going forward. This is a dysfunctional relationship.

I have so much to share about my time here, so much to say, but I think I am leaving feeling unfulfilled. An opportunity I had to get buoyantly lost here was taken for granted and subjugated to work responsibilities. Alas - another day. I need to get some rest, U-Hauls don't load themselves... why isn't Elon working on that?

Cities Of The Dead: Carrollton Cemetery (Green Street Cemetery), New Orleans

In the Season Two debut of Cities of the Dead, I visit a cemetery that holds some of the most stark memories for me when I was first beginning to explore New Orleans' cemeteries. My recollections of Carrollton Cemetery, are of a large amount of statues given the amount of land, but in this revisit, I find otherwise. I also recall finding out a serious crime took place moments after my first visit, so that is on my mind as I explore this time around. This was also, (as I recall), my first time seeing handmade headstones, and in-ground burials in a New Orleans cemetery. 

Carrollton Cemetery is sometimes dubbed Green Street Cemetery (I think it's original name).

On this visit, I find myself trapped as a funeral procession enters the cemetery, surrounding my vehicle with people and parked cars, and the awkwardness that ensued. It remains a personal favorite.

 

Cities Of The Dead: Natchez City Cemetery, Natchez

 In a desire to do some exploring to a city I'd never been to before, I picked Natchez, MS for a weekend trip. The city sits upon a series of hills, which was a welcoming new landscape for exploration. This cemetery sits along the river, upon an array of taller hills within the city's historic district. As I pull into the cemetery, I am immediately struck at it's size, of which, I saw only a fraction of it's enormity. It wasn't until I relocated to an older area of the cemetery that the enormity of Natchez City Cemetery was revealed. I park and start exploring as much as possible that surrounded me. I get so winded climbing hills, that I move my car to the highest point to get the top down vantage. 

I recently received criticism from a viewer that I did not film a Confederate Soldier area. To be clear, no effort was made to "NOT" film those markers, in fact, I did not know there was a Confederate Soldier area until I was editing the videos. The critique has bothered me... was this viewer suggesting that I should have made a point of filming Confederate Soldier graves, and if so, why? Was this a troll, or did this person think they knew me well enough to make that comment? Did they watch any of my other videos and realized that I have in fact filmed Confederate graves and memorials. Not because I approve in any way of The Confederacy, but because they are there and I respect the dead. 

Not in the final cut was my embarrassing fall off of a wall with camera in hand.

Cities Of The Dead: Undisclosed Cemetery, Undisclosed Location

This cemetery location upon a bayou was used in True Detective, and a B-horror movie titled, 'Venom'. The location is private property, so out of respect of that, I am not disclosing any further details - but the internet is an amazing resource, so... 

It's quite unique, not only for it's location within a bayou, but also for the monstrous earthen mound that rises from it's center. The lore for this cemetery is extensive, but many stories concede that the mound is  Native American in origin. Where the paths diverge is: burial mound vs. trash mound. The other prolific conjecture about the property, is that it is haunted by a witch that is supposedly buried at the top of the mound. 

I will only say, there does seem to be a different feeling in the cemetery that I haven't experienced elsewhere. The feeling was more profound on my first visit as opposed to this one, but one can chock that up to the uniqueness of this cemetery, and seeing it for the first time and the diminished surprise in seeing it again.

 

So Very Lost

 I failed... mostly myself, and my family, and I feel very low about this situation. I'm just going to go through it in some detail; so a lot of words to follow.

Bootcamp was hard, and I knew it was going to be hard going in. What I didn't fully grasp was the way in which it was going to be hard. I'm sure you've heard that the best way to learn a foreign language is to be fully immersed so that your only hope of communicating is problem solving the little things to build comprehension towards the larger things. This is what Bootcamp was - with nearly no instruction, we were given hours of work to problem solve... using Google, and various JavaScript instruction sites that exist. I finished my first week of work Sunday morning, and was helping my peers in the final minutes before class on Monday when all of the work was due. Please understand, while class is only 3 hours, I was spending an additional 8-10 hours working on the assignments, and then experienced anxiety-filled dreams for the 5-6 hours I gave myself to sleep. There was little to assume other than that this was an intentional effort, designed to push the students to their wall. 

By Saturday evening, I felt so defeated that I wanted to quit. Come Sunday afternoon, I felt that high of digging my way out of this work and left myself a few hours to decompress. Monday morning, our first test, and I barely passed. Then came the 30-minute lecture about very general topics we learned in Prep, and then we got paired up for the first time. We had an odd number of students and I landed in a group of 3. My two partners, we're skilled problem solvers and had already cemented the knowledge of what code to use and when, and we flew through the assignment. I kept up for about a 1/3 of the way, and then the problems got challenging. I spent the remaining 2/3 of my journey through the assignment being dragged behind a speeding car. This meant I was ahead a full day now, and I could study the code they used to solve our problems, but I learn best when I am involved in the solution, not just simply "taking notes". This experience wasn't great but my partners were accommodating and explained code to me that I didn't understand; all in all - it really wasn't terrible. More than anything, the reality of where I was in comparison to at least these two peers was striking and unnerving. 

Tuesday came and went and I was still in decent shape, again, thanks to the blistering expediency with which Monday was tackled. 

Wednesday arrived. Lecture time. I have to say this here, because I failed to acknowledge it in my exit interview. These lectures, I still don't understand what they were for. One could only classify them as instructional, if somehow you had forgotten everything you learned in Prep - and if that was true, you would be so buried at this point that you'd never possibly catch up. Very little of these lectures provided new material, at least not until (my) final two days; and again, they are not what I would classify as something instructive that you could refer to in order to solve your assigned work. The best analogy I could give you is: I've taught you arithmetic, and your homework is calculus. Or maybe: this is how an oven works, please bake a chocolate soufflé.

After the lecture, we were assigned new partners, and sent to our work chambers where we could commiserate about code. My partner immediately informs me, he's already completed the assignment, and is working on next week's assignments, and to let him know if I needed help with anything. Fuck me. I stare at the code, slowly piecing it together in tethers, and when I did ask him for insight, he would simply say, "I was over-thinking it", or "it's pretty straight-forward". Oh - of course, why didn't I think of that?! 

The peers that I knew were struggling such as myself had lucked out and been assigned partners, the kind of partners you might find in the definition of "partner". Suddenly, I felt isolated and alienated and frighteningly behind. For two days, I stared at code, trying every combination of syntax I knew, and many that I didn't, and still couldn't fight my way through the assignments. As the weekend approached, my desperation grew and my resolve faded. We were explicitly instructed that if we reached out to Help Desk for assistance, that we had to do so with our partner. What sense did that make? My partner was already done... so I was going to ask him to take time out of his day to meet up with me so I could ask for help on Help Desk?! Nope. That's nonsense.

Monday came and after bombing the test, and my third partner being a no-show to the collaboration room, my ambition crumbled. On Tuesday, I reached out to the admin and we conducted an exit-interview. 

My biggest hurdle was the partnering. If we were in a class environment, my partners couldn't drag me through the code, or dip out on me. It would have been an entirely different experience. But reality is, I am either not equipped to learn something so foreign virtually, or I simply need to learn with more instruction and at a slower pace. Coding Bootcamp is for hardcore problem solvers, and fast learners. The amount of work is a LOT, and you will need to build on everything you learn to help you tackle the next assignment. Memorization isn't going to save you - understanding what code to use to solve your problem is paramount in achieving success. Everything you were warned about in Bootcamp is real - and not sugar-coated in the slightest. Also - understand that if you are struggling, there is help, but in a virtual environment, that comes with significant challenges, and your partner may not be a resource you can rely on. In the end, I don't feel any ill-will towards the course, my failure really boiled down to my inability to keep up and solve my problems. Which, is why this feels so humbling and profoundly disappointing. 

So, what now? I really don't know. I've reached out to people I know that know a lot of people. I've told the landlord my situation, and she's already sent my resume out to several people. I'm starting over somewhere, hopefully soon, and hopefully it's sound and will last. The Federal bump in unemployment stops at the end of the month; I'm still waiting on my fucking refund from PayFlex, and I've requested my IRA be closed and the funds sent to me. We are at event horizon here and I need something to pan out. I know this feeling, I've talked about it before... I'm a failure to myself and my family feeling. 

I need some light -

My Misuse of Halloween

 Every September, or whatever day we're lucky enough to have a morning temperature that hovers around the low 70s, or I am lucky to catch a leaf falling off a tree - I start digging though my dusty crates of DVDs and pull out all of the horror movies. A collection to which I add a film or two each year in anticipation of my favorite season. Come, November 1, I have watched one dvd; the same one I watched last year, and the year before, and likely again this year. The only one that as any meaning to me on Halloween - I watch the original Halloween. 

What my phrasing suggests is exactly my point in writing this post. We have pretty definitive boundaries in what can be considered a Christmas movie; and those of us that want Die Hard, Trading Places, and Gremlins to get their holly-jolly good times included in the festivities. 

Like many people, I have no such boundaries for Halloween. Not Halloween... that's fine. No pumpkins, not even Autumn, oh - you're at camp, so it's probably Summer - okay, fine. People getting senselessly murdered by something, anything... that's the threshold for Halloween. That isn't right. Maybe my heart understands this, and it's why I only ever seem to make time for one movie. Why don't we have boundaries for Halloween movies that just like Christmas movies, set a mood and create an excitement for the event?

Go ahead and check out these lists: 

https://www.thecut.com/article/best-halloween-movies.html

https://www.imdb.com/list/ls000091321/

https://www.imdb.com/list/ls003790985/

https://collider.com/best-halloween-movies-list/

I'm clearly not alone in my folly of just throwing all the ghouls into the soup. Vampires, Zombies, Witches, Axe-Murderers - those are the Santa Claus and Christmas Trees. I suppose this stems from local TV stations airing "The Blob" or "Plan 9 From Outer Space", or whatever old horror movie was affordable enough to run on Halloween night, and thus our associations with any ol' horror movie will do on Halloween solidified.

I watch horror movies all year, I love getting creeped out, especially when it's done well. But I am writing this post as a reminder to myself, to: A) only pull out Halloween to watch because it's the only thing I am going to watch, and B) put as much time and research into finding the "technically" Halloween movies that I can add to my collection, and maybe I will find myself making more time getting psyched for the holiday.

Cities Of The Dead: Cypress Grove Cemetery, New Orleans

An incredibly picturesque cemetery in The Cemetery District and one of the first I visited when I moved to New Orleans. The "oven" vaults that line the perimeter or the cemetery are similar to ones found in Savannah, and are very much standard for mid-19th Century New Orleans' cemeteries. Unfortunately, this visit was marred with many interruptions, and I'd like to revisit when time allows. 

 

Cities Of The Dead: Lake Lawn Metairie Cemetery, New Orleans

I return to Lake Lawn Metairie Cemetery, but viewers really didn't seem to like this series at all... Despite have a goal-focused episode where I search for a very specific and iconic tomb, and spending well over an hour filming; these videos just didn't connect with the audience. It may be that at this point in filming, I wanted to pay homage to three YouTubers that in one way or another had given me the courage to film and inspired me to share this aspect of my city and surroundings. Maybe it was Samuel Williams', or Dan Bell's, or Adam The Woo's fans that found these videos and rejected the homage. Not sure, but I am not changing them - it was important for me to do, and I reached out to each creator individually to let them know what I was doing. Had they, or if they ever object, I will alter the videos.

I am pretty happy with this series, we see a lot of incredible tombs, and there's those creepy effing kids...

 

Cities Of The Dead: Valence Cemetery, New Orleans

I found this cemetery shortly after my son started violin lessons in the Freret Neighborhood. It was in worse condition then, but the isolation of this cemetery is palpable, despite it being surrounded by a neighborhood. Sadly, Valence has suffered from vandalism over the years, and it took local action from Save Our Cemeteries, and the public to drive much needed attention and repairs to the grounds. 

Some Updates... a Spoiled Recap

 Well... let's see. Should I go all in, or just talk about the cryptic "new" post? Let's start there and see what happens...

I think I've established the whole unemployed thing? I really should write more often so I can remember what I've written. This kind of absent-mindedness should at least be accompanied by recreational merriment, and it is not... so my brain is dying, obviously.

Diligently for weeks, I apply to job after job, all things in my wheel-house of experience. And so far, the only replies I am receiving are one's for veiled sales jobs. You have a phone call with someone, and they set you up a zoom call, and upon arriving at the zoom call, you realize it's you and twenty people and the spiel begins about how blah blah blah sells itself. So, upon cessation of the severance payments, a critical choice was made. I could maybe find an entry level job and start completely over wage-wise at 48, or I could try to develop skills to start a new career that would start somewhere close to where I ended the last one, wage-wise. So, I am going for it. If I am successful, I will be a software-coder some time next year working for my new forever job. 

"Okay, what do they do?" Well, they work on the front-end and back-end of websites and write/debug the code that is used in creating them. If I am honest, this is something I've wanted to do as a career ever since "The Phantom's Bed". I should resurrect that!

"How did it go?" - I think I would say, I crawled out of Prep. It was two weeks of quick but basic lessons in JavaScript, and I got a 13/16 on the coding test, and a 23/25 on the multiple choice. That may not sound too bad, but only one error on a website can break the whole thing, or worse, expose yourself and/or visitors to risk. But I passed and I got the approval to move forward. My next session, Bootcamp starts in about 3 weeks, and this is where the coding gets bloody. I plan to spend about two weeks leading up to Bootcamp refreshing myself and trying to get a jump on the material ahead. I also need to figure out how I am going to finance this endeavor. Bootcamp is less than a $1000 - and it will be up to my instructors throughout the class and at it's end if I will move on to Immersion. It's there that the costs get real. If I make it through Bootcamp and Immersion - job placement is assured. This program is scoring 100% placement, and that's because they are weeding people out as you go along that are not benefitting from the class and material. It's specifically hard for that reason. They don't want to waste people's money, and they also can't guarantee an employer that their pupils are ready for real world challenges if you can simply buy your certification.

This is where I am. It's scary and stressful, but my wife has been incredibly patient and supportive through all of this. I am no good at this environment where things are out of my control... it's reached the point where my brain isn't simply suggesting that I am a failure but is now punching the depression button, and throwing back at me every terrible thing it's able to remember me doing or saying to anyone, ever. It's dark in here.

I think that's it for now... good night all.

Listening to: In The Nursery - Live at Melkweg, Amsterdam - February 1985

Cities Of The Dead: St. Vincent De Paul Cemetery No. 1, New Orleans

 I head across the street to visit St. Vincent De Paul No. 1

Cities Of The Dead: St. Vincent De Paul Cemetery No. 2, New Orleans

This was a brand new cemetery for me. I've been aware of it for years, but I had been warned by a co-worker that lived in the neighborhood, that it could be risky to visit. I am so glad I finally did, because the treasures that awaited me within the cemetery gates was beyond expectation. Please enjoy this glimpse at a rarely visited, but lovely cemetery in the Upper Ninth Ward.

 

Soapboxing on YouTube

In response to a comment on one of my cemetery videos, my reply turned into a soap-boxing rant on gentrification. I still need it written down, but I'm sure my commenter doesn't want to hear my rant, when I'm only 8 years into my NOLA residency.

Thank you for commenting and visiting! I did not realize that was where the Magnolia Projects stood, I knew it was previously 'something' since all of the homes are newer, and I assumed it was likely many of the community housing blocks I remembered when I visited New Orleans in 2002. I recall a news report on some national nightly news that reported from Magnolia when it had been deemed "the murder capital of the country".  I agree, the neighborhood does seem healed in a way. I find a sad irony that most of the community housing buildings that were all over the city, were some of the only structures to survive Katrina, and the debate that ensued afterward about the direction the city should take in replacing those structures. It was easy with so many residents displaced to other cities and states to assume many would not return. While I think this area, and others have healed as you eloquently phrased it, after "40+ years of beatdown", I believe many families were no longer welcome because of the city's strict policy on who could live there. My understanding, and correct me if I am mistaken, is that a family had to decide to either kick out the troubled family member or the one with the record to live in these new communities, or they had to migrate like so many, out to The East to live together. I don't know what's right or wrong; a tormented community deserves to heal, it deserves to live in quality housing that makes one feel safe and proud - but I worry about the policy decisions in New Orleans that are gentrifying all of these historic and historically African-American neighborhoods and pricing them out (with property taxes alone) of homes and neighborhoods they have lived in for generations, forcing them further and further out of the city proper. I sort of want the "projects" buildings on Earhart to stand as a reminder, not for Katrina, but to tell the story of a New Orleans, a city that is predominantly African American, that despite a white-minority, took a "big city" approach of desegregating the population and giving people few options but to live in crime-infested, poorly-managed projects while paying starvation wages (still do). If you were lucky enough to own or rent a home, Katrina provided the corrupt power of New Orleans the moment to change the demographics of this city. When I film cemeteries like St. Joseph, I think about what that neighborhood might have felt like in 1900, and I wonder, were people feeling the weight of world in the same way as the people living there now. The tourists coming to New Orleans pay $30 to hear ghost stories, maybe tour a cemetery looking for a fright... when in truth, the scariest stories are on every block, every street, every home. I have never lived in a city that has so much pain... so much oppression; and I have never lived in a city with such beautiful and resilient people.

Let's Do This....

 First Day of Class - First Day of a New Career? Jesus, I really hope so...

Listening to: David J - "Not Long For This World"

My darker understanding of belief.

 I'm not exactly sure how or why, but for about two weeks I have been pondering belief. I'm writing about those things that we adopt as part of our catalog of facts that supplement our reality. Each person has their onw threshold of what constitutes fact for them, but shouldn't that threshold begin with a foundation of something uniform for everyone, and the layers built upon that foundation are the jumping off points between someone jumping ship and someone else saying, "this makes perfect sense". In my mind, if all humans go through this process of building a pyramid of belief, then we would all have the same base understanding of the world - and I think we all know, that simply isn't the case. I have no belief in that.

Perhaps religion was the first additive into the soup that resulted in some matters passing the taste test, and others being repulsed by the flavor. Maybe faith is the snake in the garden, taking what man and woman formulated as their reality; learning by touching, tasting, smelling, seeing, and hearing their environment, but then saying to them, "these things are forbidden because...". Now, you can have faith in something, or a belief in something, and maybe here in 2021, people no longer know how to discern the two?

Here was my thought specifically as I traveled into the mountains, "How can tens of millions of Americans believe something to be so profoundly true based on no evidence of such; even with overwhelming evidence to the contrary; that they were willing to overthrow the American government, but something like say UFOs or Bigfoot that have thousands of pieces of anecdotal, photographic, video, and environmental evidence support the reality of their existence only maintain a scoffed at, ridiculed and censured audience?" If we all start at the same baseline, and formulate belief based on how many facts (or blocks) we put in our pyramid, shouldn't we all fall into some spectrum of truth when it comes to a contested matter?

Whether the foundation of your pyramid is Bigfoot or the 2020 Election... that is your baseline. Okay, start stacking blocks of facts, hell... stack your circumstantial stuff too. Let's agree that whatever goes in our pyramid needs to be substantiated by at least one provable fact about that item. 

Bigfoot: Ten of thousands of independent witness accounts over 8 decades.

2020 Election: Ballots numbering in the hundreds, maybe thousands were found all over the country and were not counted. They were for both primary candidates, but let's just say they were all for Trump.

Bigfoot: There is video, photographic, and environmental evidence that can't be proven to be real, but supports the facts, and cannot be collectively proven to be hoaxed.

2020 Election: Russia, Iran, China and others individually attempted to sway the election one way or the other.

Bigfoot: Law Enforcement, Scientists, Military and Forest Rangers have signed affidavits that the witnessed an unknown, upright, bi-pedal animal.

2020 Election: ... someone said something despite evidence to the contrary and reasons...

Okay, I'm not making a case for the existence of Bigfoot, I'm just saying, in the American Judicial system, if I had to bring these cases the a grand jury to determine if these should go to trial, I think Bigfoot may get a shot, as we already know, the 2020 Election, would not, did not, and should not. That does not however change the fact, the tens of millions of Americans believe the election was rigged based solely on who is saying it. That to me is bewildering and probably at the core as to why I can't find a way to understanding the other side. I want to, I need to, my parents are on that side. I need to know why their reality is so different from mine, and how facts are different between two people.

I think I realized it last night. Watching Ghost Nation of all things. It came to me. Our beliefs have more to do with our emotions that they have to do with facts. We've allowed want and faith to be as solid a foundation as reality. I want Bigfoot and UFOs to be real, mostly because so many intelligent people have laughed it off, said it is impractical and all fake; and my brain has always told me, "you weren't there, how can you dismiss this with no understanding of the experience?" For someone willing to overthrow our government, maybe having their anger, frustration, and repression vocalized developed into a belief that they were running the show from now on and for good and even if it meant breaking the rules, no one was going to take that away.

I have no other explanation. I and everyone else either has to accept that our realities are dictated by our beliefs, or we need a hard reset on truths. We've known for centuries that there were two sets of facts...religion and scientific. Are we now living with a third reality? Where each and every person get's to decide their own set of facts and how to write them, or is this simply an extension of religion, and the World has been swept up in a cult of personality driven by centuries of inequality?

Cities Of The Dead: St. Louis Cemetery No. 3, New Orleans

I head into St. Louis Cemetery No. 3 in search of famed photographer, E.J. Bellocq. St. Louis No 3 is nestled amongst the stunning mansions of Esplanade Avenue, and walking distance from New Orleans Museum of Art and City Park. This is a massive cemetery, so the search is difficult. It is also heavily trafficked with tour groups because of it's safe nature and picturesque tombs at the cemetery's entrance. I was in a good deal of pain at the time of filming, so I didn't capture everything there was to see. Another visit is warranted.

 

It Isn't the Best of Times

 It's hard to concentrate when Reverend Peyton is tearing things up. 

I guess, right off the top, the job search. The searching is getting increasingly challenging; the finding is not happening. The few responses I've had turned out to be sales positions which I have absolutely no interest in doing. I've always found trying to sell an item to someone, even when it was chocolates or wrapping paper as an elementary student, to be some of the most stressful experiences of my life. It feels so disingenuous and maligned with how people seek out the things they want in their life. If they wanted benefits, they could call me and I'd be happy to walk them through all of the options, but you want me to call or approach a stranger and try to convince them they need something they don't already possess - nah. If that's a skillset you have, bless you, seems to be no shortage of jobs in this world for you, and if my last job taught me anything, as a salesperson, you are the inheritors of the earth and should be treated as such. If you are one of those taking advantage of people - well, fuck you.

So, yeah - not going well. I can tell that not having employment is reaching it's tentacles into other areas of life and meddling about with aspects of life that should provide support and confidence and turning them into additional sources of stress and anxiety. It's that death spiral that happens when you feel unwanted. Questioning life choices leads to an emasculation of confidence, and you wonder if anyone cares about all of the sacrifices you made for the past 20 years. I so hate this feeling and have been fearing it for so long. I remember it, probably more vividly, than any other aspect of the search that led me to my last job.

On a brighter note, I was able to spend some time in The Appalachian Mountains, and it was breath-takingly beautiful. It's been so long since I have seen real, ominous mountains, much less be immersed in them. I rented an Air B'n'B in a small, mountain town and from there, had numerous small adventures. I saw my first waterfall! Hard to believe, and it's a visual I will never forget. I also spent hours in a new cemetery, filming, and got to visit new record stores, and went antique shopping. 

I found this incredible book of photographs from anonymous individuals in Germany - this one: https://www.amazon.de/Anonyme-Fotografien-aus-Deutschland-bis/dp/3932865324  Seems to be rather rare, score! 

I loved every aspect of this trip, wishing only that it could have been longer. I find myself wishing, I hadn't left. I mentally escaped everything for several days, but now that I am back, the weight of everything feels so much heavier than when I left. Winding roads, lush forests, winding paths off into the unknown, rushing streams, imposing rocks, and genuinely kind strangers; it's hard to leave that. I'm fully aware that people lose sight of "vacation experience" and tend to equate that with "everyday life". I know my day would not be an amazing breakfast every morning, followed by some adventure, and filled with delicious take out for lunch and dinner, and a jaunt into the forest for some cool-stream, waterfall hunting. There's plenty to be said for not having to be calculating every time you get in the car, and not having to constantly be aware of your surroundings, and to be in a town that goes to sleep with dusk. 

I'm rambling now; scared and scattered. I need a life coach at this moment - I need someone to tell me what is my smartest next move. Take a shitty, low-paying job, keep trying for a decent job, get a license or certification in something, I don't know. I'm terrified... the severance ends in a month. Even the good news, no COBRA premiums, additional unemployment, and my 401K cushion of desperation - it isn't going to be enough to put the pieces together after April. Not rent and car payment... what to do?

I wish I could say I finally had a vacation and I feel refreshed. Instead, I had a distraction and everything still sucks. I need a solution and soon.

Listening to: The Reverend Peyton's Big Damn Band - "This Little Light Of Mine"

Cities Of The Dead: Greenwood Cemetery, New Orleans

 We visit the massive (150+ Acres) Greenwood Cemetery located in The Cemetery District. The property opened in 1852, and has greater than 100,000 interments, including both Union and Confederate Generals, actors, Major League Baseball Players, authors, musicians and politicians. The sprawling grounds contain some of the most iconic and unique graves in New Orleans, and is definitely high on my recommendation list.

Added Bonus: (Part One) was so reviled by someone that they left an unflattering comment on the video, my first!

Cities Of The Dead: Campo Santo - St. Roch Cemetery No. 1, New Orleans

 Perhaps the most unique cemetery in New Orleans. Sadly, the qualities that back up that claim are now off-limits to the public. Vandalism, disrespectful tourists, and the elements have resulted in the chapel and it's amazing offering room being closed to visitors. It remains a picturesque cemetery in a historic neighborhood, and the story of St. Roch Cemetery is such a powerful one, that there is an annual pilgrimage on Easter to all of the stations of the cross that encircle the cemetery. Patrons used to crawl on their knees to the chapel from the front gates to mimic Christ's suffering. Which such self-sacrifice and devotion, the grounds embody a unique spiritualism that touches the hardest of hearts.

No Presumptions

 First, I'm not making any presumptions in this post; it's as much a mystery to me as going to bed with no pain, and waking up with crippling pain. Second, this is something I've always experienced to varying degrees, and I am going to assume if it is something other than coincidence, it's frequency or revelation is directly in conjunction with my level of distraction; meaning - stress about work, family, money, or just a need to think about other things. With all of that in a sort of muted state at the moment, my mind has time to wander, or focus on the events around me. Quite possibly, this means absolutely nothing and is an absolutely normal part of anyone's day to day. I am outlining these here because they feel abnormal to me. So... hopefully that exposition enough and I'll just get into it. 

I am going to describe three events, I don't know what it determines, if anything at all, about me. These three moment happened within a 2-day time span.

Moment One: After having dropped off my son at work, I sat in a line of traffic close to City Park. It was afternoon, so foot and bicycle traffic in the area was heavy. I watched a group of teen men running in a pack towards the intersection in front of me. They tend to be a group of 12-20, traveling in a wide-ellipse that spanned the curb, the bike lane, and the right edge of the car lane. This wasn't the first time I've seen this group, I've often passed them as they run around the park in their matching shorts and often bare-chest, my assumption always being that they belonged to a high school in the area and this was one of their tasks. I've never paid particular attention to anyone one of them; I've only been concerned with not making an evening newscast for having run one of them down. Today however, as I sat half-focused on the cars around me and whether or not they began to creep forward, I took note of one particular teen in the middle of the group. I don't exactly no why, I even questioned myself in the moment, wondering if perhaps he was familiar, but all of those thoughts were muted by blaring foresight that when this particular teen rounded the corner from Harrison to Orleans, he was going to slip in mud, catch himself and then proceed on; then just as quickly the thought was gone. As I watched the group approach the corner, my lane of cars began to move; my intended path was straight, taking me past the group. I was quickly approaching the corner and I wondered for a spilt second who would make it there corner first. The two cars directly in front of me were turning right, and the driver leading our group hesitated, likely out of uncertainty where the teens intended to run. This pause in forward progression allowed me to watch with particular clarity as the events I imagined happened just as I had described to the very teenager I had focused on. This is the most specific example of the three moments, precisely pinpointing the one young man out of many.

Moment Two: I was warming up the car before taking my son to work. Backed into the drive-way, with a view of our neighbors house across the street, and their trash can that had been emptied earlier in the day. Suddenly, they pulled into their drive way and exited the car. I am going to refer them as wife and husband, I don't know anything about them, not even their names and haven't said word one to either of them since I moved in. Wife and husband meet on the drivers side of the car and exchange words, and she proceeds into the house, and the husband retrieves the errant trash can. I watch her unlock the door, disappear inside and close the door. I immediately thought to myself, "she locked him out". I watched the husband first fight the unwieldy can up the drive around the CRV and secure it in place. He crossed the front yard and waked up the steps to the front porch, turns the know and lurches forward with the certainty that he's going to enter the residence, only to find himself rebuffed by an immovable force. The door is locked, and he knocks angrily. 

Moment Three: It's late evening, 10 or 10:30, I am sitting in an empty parking lot directly across the street from my son's job. I am there to pick him up and bring him home. It's another cold night, and I sit in my car listening to Portishead, making sure it's warm and comfortable for myself and my son. I watch a group of six; four adults, two children in the restaurant, they are the only patrons as the staff begins their closing process. The group is in a high booth, directly in my line of sight, but far enough away that I am not able to discern how many people until they start to exit. I see two of the men seek out what I assume was a restroom, while the children frolic in the now chair-less surroundings. The group reunites and exits the restaurant and proceed towards a car, somewhere in my vicinity. I knew it wasn't in the same parking lot as myself, so I wondered for a second where they were going, "perhaps they walked here?" Just as they disappeared out of my periphery, I thought to myself, "one of them forgot something". Perhaps 30 second passed, when all of a sudden, one of the men I had seen earlier bounds across the street in front of me towards the restaurant and enters the unlocked door. I see him make his way to the booth and disappear for a moment behind it's high back plates. He then emerges with a coat, and exits the restaurant.

I guess there's any number of explanations. Coincidence to psychic to manifestation. I also wonder if I am picking up on behavior clues? No one explanation seems to fit all three occurrences. I did not think about something being left in the restaurant until they left, so I couldn't have manifested that. Behavior clue wouldn't suggest someone was going to slip and I could barely see the group in the restaurant due to the high booth back. That leaves coincidence or psychic. I don't lean toward the unexplainable, so I am sticking with coincidence... albeit, a series of odd coincidences.

Listening to: Smashing Pumpkins - "Starla"

Cities Of The Dead: Hook And Ladder Cemetery, Gretna

 In the heart of Old Gretna is Hook And Ladder Cemetery. I visit on a foggy morning, and I was reminded how picturesque and historic this cemetery is. I had not explored it's space in a number of years, despite it being so close to my work place. Gretna is on the "Westbank", across the Mississippi River and skirting parts of Algiers. Most people visiting New Orleans are unfamiliar with this historic small town a quick car ride away, but it offers Gretna Fest each October which has hosted everyone from KISS to The Wallflowers. 

Cities Of The Dead: Helping Hand Cemetery, Houltonville

 On the same day we visited Madisonville, we also went in search of a ghost... the town of Houltonville. Nestled between Madisonville and Mandeville, the town is now unincorporated Madisonville, but those in the know can experience it's past. Houltonville was an African-American community during Reconstruction-Era Louisiana. Now, it's an abandoned church; wreathed in swampy woods and a beacon of curiosity looking over a home that has been devoured by nature. A few yards away, Helping Hand Cemetery. Maintained only by those who have family buried there; and the families of those who founded Houltonville. They meet for an annual pilgrimage to clean up the grounds in time for All Souls Day, and offer reverence and respect for the dead.

Everything Changes...

 Funny, not funny, it's interesting that whenever I listen to Audra, I find myself in a mood to write. Bret Helm is one of the most under-appreciated, and superbly talented story tellers of my time. I have often wondered, does Bret write poetry, or prose? Concluding, that whatever he were to write would be a fascinating journey into a world rich with anecdotes, captured moments, and intrinsic connections with random people. If ever a song is written about body builders at a goth party, I will find myself transported to an incredible night. Whether you a part of that moment or not, you can't walk away from an Audra song without wondering, "who was heard in a dark room", "who possesses the eyes of that blue curtain on the second floor", "who is the subject of Wish No Harm"... snapshots from a life that an artist captured in words. It all feels real... especially when 'real' is omnipresent and the trappings of life are peeled away to expose the fragile and delicate nature of our survival.

I'm here, on a Friday night, exactly 4 weeks after working my last day with the former employer. Officially using my severance package as income at this point; and its finite nature is a ticking clock that weighs a thousand pounds and is strapped to my shoulders. I'm applying at roughly a dozen jobs a week that I especially qualified for, but as of yet, nothing but a handful of denials. Everyone I spent eight years with, and all of those I befriended and helped in my last five months have instantly become strangers to me. It's pretty depressing when you meet the real value of your friendship, it's a devastating blow to one's ego.

There are positives, I've relieved the added pressure of doing domestics from the rest of the household, but my favorite part is being to spend more time with my son. Obviously, I didn't have the worry of trying to travel as The South became The North for a week. Having to navigate the continuation of health coverage gave me reason to focus on getting some things taken care of. I've also had more time to look at our money; investments, insurance, taxes, etc. Normally that would have come at a stressful time or just been ignored, but time is all I have now. I also have filmed quite a bit... but not edited a damn thing, so all of that is still to come. 

I've realized that when I was at work, I so often thought about what I'd rather be doing. That's normal, I get it. But now that the time is all mine, it feels de-incentivized to do any of it. I realize that filming, buying music, doing me things were rewards to myself for being employed. Now I don't feel worthy of reward. Really digging in to those self-worth issues that I never address, and only occasionally realize. Being an employee of former employer defined my self-worth. I can't describe how disgusting that makes me feel about myself. What does that say about my family, my many thousands pieces of music, my Rozz Williams collection? It says my priorities are in a fucked state... still at nearly 50 years of age, my identity is dictated by working passionately for someone else that didn't care a whole heck of a lot about me. I don't feel like I had a choice, but I know that can't possibly be true, I just didn't see it. That's admittedly frightening.  

I'm someone that functions well when there is control. Not being in control - being in situations that are controlled. It takes a lot for me allow myself to not be cautious, it stands out as the one precise descriptor my dad ever labeled me with, "cautious". He said it only once; to me anyway, but I've never forgotten it. This world and helpfully pernicious people often have the switches that quickly flip caution to reckless, and you don't have to try very hard to find them. Leave your house, go to the place that still has activity when most sane people sleep and they are there. But my time there is an even less-defined phantom than my childhood. Often, when I am sitting still in a running car peering through fogging windows at blurring street lights, I find myself envious of those safe in sanitariums permanently lost in another place, infrequently tugged back into a functioning world with dotted i's and crossed t's. Caution isn't an option, you are just somewhere else. Anyone that knows me, has ever known me, a lack of control is not my forte'... it takes a lot, and has a lot to do with trust. Those aforementioned "helpful people" were given my keys and the journey we took was down a lot of one-way, dead-end streets, and it was awhile before I realized no one was driving the car.

Anyway, this post has derailed, I'm just caught up in the uncertainty of this situation. Having a bit of a pity party. Something will present itself, everyone is saying so. 

Listening to: Audra - 'Everything Changes'

Guilty Strangers ...?

 While at the post office this morning, an older (maybe 60-ish), African-American woman told me she loved my Guilty Strangers t-shirt. Immediately, my head flooded with stories in an effort to rationalize the comment. I could have asked, but...

Plausible Working Theory 1: She's a true crime buff and associated the shirt with a show or it evoked that imagery for her.

Plausible Working Theory 2: She has some really interesting stories of her own.

Implausible Working Theory 1: She's a master at the pick up lines and today, I was her prey.

Lesson of the day: Some times, not having answers can be more fun than having them. Unless you are the movie, 'Beast' - then, it's just insulting.

Cities Of The Dead: Madisonville Cemetery, Madisonville

 In a Fall Festival mood, I head over to Madisonville, Louisiana. Even though I wasn't allowed to pick a pumpkin in their pumpkin patch (kids only), I did find a beautiful and historic cemetery on the Tchefuncte River. This cemetery is order than the Louisiana Purchase and contains as many as 200 unmarked graves. The city is in the process of restoring the grounds. 

Cities Of The Dead: St. Louis Cemetery No. 2, New Orleans (Treme) - All Three Parts

 This may be one of my favorite cemeteries in the city, and it's one of the oldest. So old in fact, that the cemetery is equal parts unprovable lore, architecturally unparalleled, and infamous. This is that cemetery that Misfits fans speak of, the one that Marie Laveau's descendants call home, and the one where New Orleans' greatest musicians finally rest. You won't find a more culturally rich resting place in New Orleans, and this cemetery, stretched across three city blocks, is not the tourist-friendly mecca that it's predecessor claims. Though safer than it was a few short years ago, it's extremely high walls, and towering tombs can present the kind of privacy New Orleans residents are wary of. Much like St. Louis No. 1, many of the city's oldest families rest here, placards in French are the norm. This was the outer edge of the city at one time, what lay beyond it's walls was nothing more than swamp. If you are headed east on I-10, you've seen the crumbling society tombs outside the right window; and there have been those nights when you passed by, that you swear you saw lights or figures moving about the maze of tombs. Maybe it was Danzig; maybe it was spirits...

Here are all 3 Parts of this visit:

Cities Of The Dead: Lafayette Cemetery No. 1, New Orleans (Garden District)

In terms of New Orleans cemeteries with a touch of notoriety, or let's say, celebrity status, I would argue that Lafayette No 1 is a red-carpet, a-lister. Featured in countless television series (don't see NCIS: New Orleans), and many Hollywood and indie films, and perhaps most famously, the home for Lestat's tomb in "Interview With The Vampire". The cemetery is a short walk from her former New Orleans home in The Garden District of New Orleans. It's a safe, picturesque, tourist-friendly location that is nestled amongst mansions and the acclaimed Commander's Palace. I visited on the eve of the cemetery's closure, so there were a lot of people getting in one last walk through.

 

End Of The Line

 Here I am, on my fourth day of unemployment, and I feel like I've been pushed off a cliff - a fall I survived, but I am in no condition to climb out of. I was fully aware that the arrival of 2021 wasn't likely to be a gateway to something greater; I was fully expecting the end of my career, but I wasn't prepared for more abuse or betrayal. 

I found out on the 14th that the 22nd was going to be my end. Mind you, I had been inquiring all the way back in November what was happening and when. In the standard, careless act of indifference, the message was presented to me in a one-line email from the woman that had hired me for the position. I used my "week" to apply for the one position I could find that I think I had the skillset for, and might mean I could keep my rate of pay. Thankfully, the hiring manager for that position granted me an hour-long interview on my final day. It went okay, maybe a 5 out of 10, I am supposed to learn this week if I made it to Round 2 of the interview process. Logistically, it seems very unlikely that my former employer would be open in allowing me to pursue that path. First: as of this past Monday, I am a former employee, and I will be receiving a payout of my vacation time. If I did get "rehired", what happens to that? Do I pay back 200 hours of vacation, or do I simply have no vacation time? What if I quit before I earned another 200 hours of vacation, the employer certainly is not going to be okay with losing that money. How would they get it back? Second: I'm collecting severance. That, too, would need to be paid back. So, how long would I work without any income? That's a complication no one wants to deal with. Third: Learning curve. When it suits the employer, nothing is too great a task or difficulty, but when it benefits the employee, it's a detriment and counts against you. Despite proving myself a success in learning an entirely new skillset over the past five months, I guess, that was a fluke?!  In addition to the position I did apply for, there was supposed to be an effort between my hiring manager and the manager of another department to find me a suitable role. This dialogue, "supposedly" went on for weeks, but as of this writing, I have not heard word one from that department manager. More lies? More indifference? It feels, at the very least, like more of the same.

With all of that said, I am thankful. I could have been out of work mid-August, and looking at my severance to run out in early November. As it is - I remained employed through Christmas, into January and my 401k is untouched, and my severance will keep me covered until mid-April. I plan to go on COBRA, so at the very least if I get sick, I can get help. I just now have the monumental task of figuring out how to make $60K+ per year walking in the door somewhere, when jobs are so scarce and there's a pandemic. Employers have all the power at the moment and can afford to be selective.

I really don't know what's next. Aside from going to Florida for funerals, and the power outage resulting from Hurricane Zeta - I haven't had a vacation in nearly a year. I floated with maxed out vacation time for nine months; first because we were in a pandemic and I was an essential employee, and then because it was part of the agreement I made to take the temporary position, and mostly because I wanted the maximum payout of my time on my final check. But again, here I am, now four days down - and I've done little more than buy the rarest of king cakes and be a chauffer. Should I find a $15/hour job and keep making money while I get severance? Should I just actively look until I find something and hopefully do so before the end of severance, and if not, rely on unemployment? I just don't know. It seems like some money is better than no money - but wouldn't I also risk jeopardizing what I could make on unemployment if I take a low paying job? 

Listening to: Mike Lindell Bury Himself on Anderson Cooper 360

Cities Of The Dead: Lake Lawn Metairie Cemetery, New Orleans, Louisiana

Probably the most iconic cemetery in New Orleans other than the infamous St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. This cemetery features some of New Orleans' most illustrious and wealthy family tombs in the city. Elaborate and ornate family crypts can be found throughout the entire cemetery, as famous for its hauntings as it's architecture. This is my first recording, a Part One, if you will...