Down South: Day Five

 Sometimes as a writer, you need to preface the scene, day, moment, etc. so your reader can understand your state of mind. I feel this is especially important if the alteration in demeanor is contradictory to previous passages. PTSD is a vicious and cruel element attached to a person’s psyche. It is a vivid reminder of trauma(s) not yet healed. Seldom do these wounds reside on the surface, the scars run to the quick and are rooted in one’s soul. It’s difficult to emotionally quantify to people. Attempts met with vacant stares and gazes of misunderstanding to no fault of their own. From my own experience, there is no calm or state of grace, just different degrees of hurt and the tidal wave of release never comes with a warning. The haunting ghosts that rattle their chains come at moments of strength and weakness. There was no peace of rest for me between days four and five so what was I to do? Walk my ass off and hope for the best. Going around the storm takes so much longer than going through it.

                I was awake when my alarm went off and thought "There's no time like now." A cold shower to get the blood flowing. A brush and a rinse to get the dragon out of my breath, fresh breath is an oral handshake don't you know. I laced my shoes and hit the streets. I knew the moment I stepped on the wet asphalt that I would limit my direct contact with people today. I didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for it. There was still plenty to see and explore in the way of buildings and shady areas, and since I could tap out at any moment, I didn’t waste time. I roamed the neighborhoods once again behind my hotel to see if my mind’s eye had changed its perception in the waning darkness. I won't bullshit anyone here. My first attempts licked dirty cat butthole. I needed to center my chi quickly or the day faced total loss. Nothing worse than a downward spiral at 4:45 in the morning.

           I put my camera away for a moment and just walked. Searching for a harbor in your Tempest isn’t the easiest thing to do, and it does take effort. I found this exertion in the form of a short block wall at the end of some street. Lights were dangling overhead from someone's misguided effort, from watching HGTV I suspect, held me captive. It never fails to amaze me how the simple things work so wonderfully. Drifting away to a pinpoint of artificial blue, I found my calm. Amen to that my friends, it was time to get on with getting on. I still didn't want to speak with anyone, but hey, I'm a dick that way sometimes. The sun was making an exasperated effort to crest above the cloud line, so swiftness was crucial at this point. Magic can happen just that quickly, and as I headed to Jackson Square, I got my shots. Well, images I appreciated, and at this point, it was more than enough for me.

           Jackson Square gave way to a railyard, which gave way to broken buildings on the wrong side of Magazine Street, which yielded buildings with more character and soul than I could ever hope for. This graffiti was something I had seen etched in immortality across town. Seeing it on the dilapidated doorway of an abandoned building gave it that perfect framework. This would be the second to last image I would take for the day. I was reasonably content with walking and observing those who surrounded me. Every so often, entering a dream like state, I drifted away in a fantasy of concocted dialogue between the people I monitored. Let me tell you; this can be ridiculously hilarious if you let your mind go. Thank the lord there's no way to record those private moments, or I'd be in big trouble with Saint Peter and the man upstairs. My final photographic stop would be Saint Louis Cathedral. This spot is where I would capture my murder of crows.

           Rewind: The late morning the streets were clogged with people who had just checked out of their hotels. I know this because they were pulling their suitcases around the street. I honestly thought this was idiotic but hey, what do I know. Fast forward: These people had all gone away, and the streets were relatively calm. The ancillary benefit was Jackson Square was peaceful as well. As I stood in front of the cathedral, I knew the shot I wanted. 25 minutes later, I had the shot I wanted. I’m not sure I have ever displayed that level of patience concerning an image capture. It may be cliché to some but it is apropos to me, and I had a sense of validation. I sat for a moment once again and watched as the locals walked and thespians performed. The sun was obscured by the clouds and the prospect of the afternoon storm, late as it was, crept closer with each passing moment. My stomach churned from hunger, and I felt this a good time to eat and relax. I would ponder the evening as I enjoyed my sandwich and iced tea.

           Yes, I have abridged some events of this day. I will ease everyone's curiosity now. It was standard issue. There was walking, 12.93 miles to be exact. There was drama, a crackhead was yelling in the street and threw his shoe. There was deception, I swindled lemonade and treats from the Marriott. There was even a little romance, gag, someone proposed in the middle of the park, and she said yes. Now, now I sat in a restaurant negotiating my fate so to speak. I knew it was too early to call it a day. However, I was completely cognizant of my own mental and physical status. I was approaching the realm of being burnt out. I hadn’t given myself a break since I touched down. In hindsight, this may have been a misstep. In for a penny in for a pound. I drank the last of my tea and headed out. The rains had passed, and I wandered to where I felt the most comfortable, Frenchman Street and the backside of my hotel.

           Familiarity and the perception of safety are good things during times such as these. As each step took me further away, each step brought me closer. An ugly paradox that only my skewed intellect could understand. A sudden sense of isolation and detachment infiltrated into my thoughts. Teetering on the edge of a full shutdown, I calibrated myself to my surroundings and headed to my hotel. In retrospect, the day had ended for me hours ago though I wasn’t smart enough to see the signs. Everyone has a great ability to fool and lie to themselves in such instances, and this would be no different. A hot shower cures many an ailment and with a little wishful thinking, the dirt of the day comes off as well. Tomorrow would be my final day, the grand finale if you will. By now I'd have a well-formulated plan on what that would entail.  Not having one only confirmed my suspensions. It was time to turn down the volume and quiet the mind. The sun would soon rise from the east and with it the aspirations that a new day brings.