Today was my birthday which meant I could do whatever I wanted to do to celebrate being alive, and believe you me, I’m enjoying this whole life thing. I slept in, talked to my sister on the phone forever, and then hopped on the bike and headed out for a massage. Afterward, because it was my birthday, I left my bike on the rack and walked the several blocks to Wendy’s for a spicy chicken sandwich, add cheese, fries, and a drink. She asked me what kind of drink I wanted. I foolishly said I wanted a Diet Coke, but what I didn’t know was that I’d be filling my cup from the crazy new zillion flavor Coke machine newly-installed in the lobby. Continue reading
personal
Women Jogging on St. Charles Avenue at Night
Today’s bike ride took me up to campus for summer school night school with a quick ill-fated stop at the post office–the summer heat takes its toll on power supplies, and the station on Louisiana Ave was all burned out. I wasn’t much looking forward to tonight’s class session on sexual violence. Important stuff, yes, but it’s hard to talk about, especially when it is so personal for so many of us, and for just as many, it seems, it is all overblown and women need to just use common sense and stop dressing like sluts and drinking too much. Yeah, in my experience it can be a tough dynamic to manage in the classroom. Class went surprisingly well, with most everyone staying respectful but still voicing honest opinions and concerns. When I was riding my bike home I passed a number of women out for evening runs, a wise move in our already-stultifying summer heat. As I whizzed by them I thought about how recalcitrant this idea is, that the way to solve sexual violence is for women to take all precautions, to make sure we aren’t outside alone at night and that we only drink with friends (though, especially for college women, friends and acquaintances are their most likely attackers), if we drink at all. Those simply can’t be our solutions, because the women I passed tonight need a world where they can go running after dark, and I need a world where I can bike home at any time, because that’s how I’m going to be moving through the world for the foreseeable future, and I am most assuredly not taking applications for an escort. I don’t know the answer, but I know it will mean some serious rethinking of masculinity, and as much as I don’t want to teach this stuff, I’d better stick with it.
Ken Burns at Loyola’s Nunemaker Auditorium
I love Ken Burns. Or, rather, I love his documentary films. I started watching them last summer, and they are just so good. I know the critiques: he is all nostalgia and no politics; he pretends to tell full histories, but he leaves out vital voices; he romanticizes the Confederacy, letting that reunionist Shelby Foote be the expert. The list goes on, but I am not really interested in that particular brand of cynicism when it comes to his films. Continue reading
Bacon, Basil, and Garlic Pizza and a Glass of Wine at St. Charles & MLK
I spent my morning grading, writing, laundering and cooking before it was time to bike through the haze to campus for my night class. It was one of those classes that went fine–even better than fine–where students talked to each other instead of just me and the conversation appeared to run by itself. But it was also one of those classes where there’s some real violence. That’s the flip side of teaching about race, gender, and sexuality: I have to listen to and turn into learning moments some incredibly racist, sexist, and homophobic stuff. That’s my job, and I love it–it is work worth doing, and for that I am grateful. But sometimes it gets to me in spite of how hard I am to what I talk about every day, and tonight it did, though I didn’t show it–hey, we’re learning, and I get that, and I’m genuinely glad I can create an environment where students say that stuff out loud so we can actually talk about it. But sometimes it gets to me. When that car laid on the horn as it sped past me on a street more than wide enough for the both of us, it came out, and I was pedaling through tears, saying to myself over and over again, “I belong, I belong, I belong.” Because I do, on my bike, in my body, regardless of my gender or sexuality, and so do you, and we are all here, so let’s figure out how to share this space without asking some of us to shut up and quit whining. I kept on pedaling until I got to Slice where I knew they would sell me pizza with bacon on it, red wine, and leave me alone. Riding your bike on the street is activism, people. Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Building Being Demolished at S. Lopez & Palmyra
Today’s bike ride took me to Mid-City for much-needed iced tea with R. before joining A. and M. for margaritas (much-appreciated, in not needed). M. has a blog where she’s taking a picture of herself every day while growing out her hair. Like my sister’s blog, where she’s logged her lunch every single day for three years (and no, I don’t think she’s missed even one day), this one sounds strangely specific, something you wouldn’t check out unless you were her mom. Continue reading
Poker Night in Mid-City
I spent my morning at home finishing one book and starting another, and then I got to ride my bike over to C.’s house–she just got a bicycle and wanted a little practice with a fellow bicyclist, and I was more than happy to oblige. We rode Uptown for ice cream–a terrific sacrifice on my part–and then back to her place. Then I pedaled slowly around town running errands before meeting up with R. for gelato. My life is so hard. I did some grading and some thinking and some cooking and then it was time to take the bike out to Mid-City for poker at A. and G.’s. Good lord, I love a nighttime bike ride, and Orleans Avenue, you do treat me right. I snapped this picture of my quickly diminishing stack of chips and the thankfully almost-empty bottle of grape wine with citrus spirits. I lost, but it was a most lovely evening, and Orleans awaits. Night riding in the summertime, lucky me.
Open Car Window in Central City
I was a little anxious about riding my bike this afternoon after yesterday’s literal run-in with that car, but what else can you do but get back on the bike? After a morning spent watching a movie and taking a nap, I aired up my tires and headed uptown to J.’s for a long afternoon brunch with a whole passel of friends and acquaintances. Continue reading
Open Fire Hydrant at Loyola & State
I have been moving for the last couple of days, from the Garden District to Central City for about one month before moving to the Marigny and then on to Baltimore (don’t ask). There’s no way around it: moving sucks. There’s always one more box that needs to be packed, a loose postcard here, old corn cob holders there, and the job is just endless, not to mention the part where it totally gets in the way of my bicycling time. Continue reading
The Side Entrance to Newcomb Hall at Tulane
Teaching is the best job ever, and I love it, but after a long semester and in the midst of a multi-move summer, I really am not in the mood to teach summer school night school. But I gotta eat/buy a mattress in Baltimore, so after a long, long day finishing up packing the apartment, I hopped on the bike and pedaled to work. If I have to teach right now, I want to teach this class to these students. Continue reading
Blue Sky, Clouds, and Power Lines at N. Peters & Bienville
I spent my morning finishing up my book and dismantling furniture for my upcoming move before heading out on the bike for various and sundry social activities in Mid-City. I stopped for a burrito and an afternoon sangria with myself–a favorite Saturday afternoon activity of mine. Continue reading
What I Saw Riding My Bike Around Today 