dirge

Has New orleans been completely destroyed?

Anne Rice, no longer a Big Easy resident, waxes rhapsodic about New Orleans.

Anybody remember the following pungent passage from Tom Robbins's Jitterbug Perfume? I've never been to Louisiana, but I found this evocative the first time I ever read it:

Louisiana in September is like an obscene phone call from nature. The air -- moist, sultry, secretive, and far from fresh -- felt as if it were being exhaled into one's face. Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing. Honeysuckle, swamp flowers, magnolia, and the mystery smell of the river scented the atmosphere, amplifying the intrusion of organic sleaze. It was aphrodisiac and repressive, soft and violent at the same time.

(passage rediscovered here)

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