Before the sky opens up

For the first time in over a week, the sky is many shades of grey, black, and everything in between. Several foreshadowing teases of rain have already fallen and the Earth is crying out for more. This is no wait for an ordinary storm. The weather here in the Lower Ninth Ward is fierce. Especially now, with the lack of barriers in the form of houses, cars, and trees, the wind beats against the window as if wanting to come in and hang out. Both because we are under sea level and because the drainage system throughout the area operates as if there aren't torrents of water that wish to travel through its pipes, flooding is inevitable. And the mosquitoes will come. But the plants will feast. And all will be good with the Earth. The streets and bare skin, though, well that's a different story.

We are the revolution

What does one do with the knowledge that your country is blatantly breaking the law, killing innocent citizens, so deeply entrenched in corrupt practices and dealings that there is nothing to be done? Where can one find some constant within all that murkiness to remind you that all is not lost. I don't know. We struggle everyday to try and do our part in correcting the course of history. But all is no lost. We all have hope. And, in fact, the revolution just continues. It ebbs and flows from one generation to the next like some sort of oozing family tree. We are the revolution. Some of us may get arrested. Some of us may stand up against foes much greater than ourselves. But it is happening. It will happen. We are the revolution.

When you're not getting paid...

It's hard to get motivated sometimes. There can be a few reasons for this. Number one is the fact that everything to be done, to this point, is something which I am not getting monetary compensation for my "hard" work. It's hard to rationalize that, though, because I'd rather be busy; time seems to flow easier when there's something to be done. That, of course, is a relative thing because "be done" can mean planting trees or it can mean talking to coffee shops about getting their used coffee grounds, both of which are important but not equal in terms of the time needed to accomplish the objectives. I like action. I like getting things "done". But I also enjoy the occasional sitting around. I guess it's the nature of this here volunteer game.

Making it right, one paparazzi photo at a time

Today I woke up, a little late and curious what time the Make It Right/Clinton Global Initiative festivities were going down.  15 minutes later, there was Bill Clinton and Brad Pitt.  Shaking hands.  Taking pictures.  Giving thanks to the volunteers who worked for less than one hour for a photo-op.  Where was the parade and media circus focusing on those of us who spend day in and day out here on the block?  Not that I need notoriety and fame, but how unbelievably contrived and phony.  I was, however, in the presence of gods walking among men.  Alright, fine.  It was just a former president and two pretty faces, but damn was it sort of exciting.  Oh, and I was contacted by Perez Hilton through a friend who wanted to use my photos.  Just your average Sunday.  

Communal being

Living with lots of different styles and types of people can be easy, because you can just find your niche. There are people, however, who talk to themselves in a crowded room. Sometimes, when you're sleeping at 7 am, someone decides that would be the best time to chew (with your mouth open) on sunflower seeds and spit the shells in the corner of the room. Sometimes all the lunch that you helped make for yourself and a group is eaten entirely by the group. Little do they know that the lizard is watching and will have his day.

HTML...I will rue the day

Not one hour into my blogging career and I have a nemesis. Who came up with HTML anyway? My vote is for the Evil Horned One.

I am the Lizard

I am the Lizard. Some of you may know me as Morgan. Others as Boyd Where. Yet others as Gorgan the Destroyer. Either way, here I am, and here is my much awaited blog. Coming at you from the Lower Ninth. Ward, that is. There will be laughs. There may even be tears. But throughout it all, I will be your guide. My name is Morgan, but from here on out I am known, in these parts at least, as the Lizard. I may be on the wall; I may be on a finger. Wherever I be, I am here to observe and then report. Thanks for coming.