If you do not waste seven dollars every month, you had better show me some receipts. Become a paid subscriber.
Now you know what weighs most heavily on my mind. I am a businessman, after all, whether I look like one or not.
I saw a slowly moving swarm of tiny snails on the sidewalk this morning.
There were about twenty of them strewn across the sidewalk. They were not really strewn. That would imply the were scattered by a force beyond their control. They were oozing around of their own free volition, leaving trails of glistening slime.
A guy was getting in his car going to work. “Does this happen all the time?” I asked after he noticed me squatting on the ground to snap a pic.
“Yeah,” the guy said. “We’re used to it, The snails, the power lines—that’s what it’s like in this part of town.”
I was on North Rocheblave Street where the overhead power lines crackle and hum twenty-four hours a day. It can be quite disconcerting until you get used to it. Then, you will find the sounds soothing, like faraway bees on a summer’s day.
I write this at the end of November. I wonder if the snail population is attracted to all the stray electricity on North Rocheblave Street. I stood and watched the escargatorie for about ten minutes. Then, I got bored.
There were no answers to New Orleans persistent problems to be found there. It never hurts to look. I was on the corner of North Rocheblave and Kerlerec Streets. Kerlerec was a governor. Rocheblave was the lover of Dorgenois’s wife. New Orleans street names are full of stories.
Science fiction or science fact? In New Orleans, it is often hard to tell the difference. I know. I have tried.
I will see you behind the paywall.