". . . But the past does not exist independently from the present. Indeed, the past is only past because there is a present, just as I can point to something over there only because I am here. But nothing is inherently over there or here. In that sense, the past has no content. The past -- or more accurately, pastness -- is a position. Thus, in no way can we identify the past as past." p. 15

". . . But we may want to keep in mind that deeds and words are not as distinguishable as often we presume. History does not belong only to its narrators, professional or amateur. While some of us debate what history is or was, others take it into their own hands." p. 153

Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (1995) by Michel-Rolph Trouillot

Friday, October 26, 2012

H = Halloween or Hurricane

Three loads of laundry spin in the dryers.

I've been packing. Can't finish until the clothes are dry. But then it will be finished for the most part before we head for the airport.

Life feels as though it's gone on hold again, not in a good way. I'm accustomed to this feeling -- a perpetul clench in the abdomen, and a sense of nothing is real. I learned this feeling first on 9/11. Since then there have been so many occasions.

The streets are filled with small and even some larger ghoulies, witches, cats, robots, so many masks and made-up faces. The schools had their Halloween parties this afternoon and none of the kids were about to change out of their costumes when mom or other caretaker picked them up at the end of the school day.

The stores are packed with women looking for just the right look -- another costume of a sort -- for their weekend and the parties on Wednesday. I bet the parties will be wild, those that get held and attended. However, I got no sense from any of these shoppers they were aware of what might be happening on Wednesday. In any case they are young: invulnerable and immortal. It will merely be an adventure about which they'll tweet and fb.

So, as far as I can tell, outside of the governor and the mayor, the head of the MTA, and the radio people, nobody is concerned a bit about Sandy.

I know how fast that can turn over though ....

The rain and wind should start Sunday. But we'll have been in NO for 24 hours by then.

I don't know. But at least Himself has stopped phoning me every two minutes!

I'm tired. Neither of us got more than four hours of sleep last night.

It's nice that a friend is picking us up from Louis Armstrong tomorrow. We'll figure out what else we're doing after that.

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