the ol' miss, the ol' man.

the pictures on tv are unbelievable.

i haven't a clue if my old house is underwater, or my high school, or the venue of my first date, or that coffee house that donald and i patronized when we learned of kurt cobain's death, or the thrift store from where i bought the majority of my clothing in 1994, or the bowling alley where paige had her sweet 16th birthday, or the club where i had my first alcoholic drink (naturally, a screwdriver), or the site where i lost my virginity, or the sites of any of my memories, actually.

these buildings mean little when the poorest residents of new orleans are being raped, shot, and are dying near the convention center with slow response from the federal government--even four days later.

the amount of death and destruction is overwhelming.

here's the red cross website if you'd like to donate.