Tuesday, Oct. 14, 2003 - 4:22 p.m.
Greetings,
It’s a blustery, sunny afternoon here in New Orleans. The kind of day where if you sit outside to read a book during your lunch hour, you are very liable to nearly have your clothes blown off and the book you are reading flip out of your hands and out into the middle of next week.
Well, maybe not *that* blustery, but it’s gottdem windy out there. Seriously.
Today’s reading adventure was “Voudou Visions” by Sallie Ann Glassman which I am reading in preparation for not one but two upcoming Setian/voodoo Workings I’m performing this week.
One is to honor and welcome Papa Legba, the other Erzulie Freda.
So I’m sitting out on a bench in the CBD with my hair whipping around my face and the cuffs of my new grey pants flapping with an almost painful vigor against my ankles reading this book.
It was almost as if the lwa were combing through my hair and pulling at my clothing.
Much fun.
My boss just got back in time for a staff meeting bearing a platter of huge chocolate chip cookies which he put on the ledge in front of my desk. He wouldn’t let me take no for an answer as far as having one, so I took one and virtuously plan to give it to Tommy.
I put this virtuous plan down in writing here in my journal so that I will follow through because you all have now read it and if I eat the cookie now, I will feel pretty stupid. I try to avoid that feeling generally.
But that cookie *does* smell gottdem good.
You may have noticed “gottdem” is my word dujour. I have no idea where it came from and what/who I am channeling. Probably some 95 year old New Orleanian grandfather type that might or might not homeless dressed in a Salvation Army tweed jacket and patched pants circa 1970. A person like that might say “gottdem”.
For instance, he could be walking along the Riverwalk on a fine sunny morning when he suddenly spies a flock of fat, overstuffed pigeons cooing and strutting in the middle of the walkway and with his gnarled old cane he’d scatter the lot of them wheezing out, “Get out the way, you old gottdem birds! Comin’ through, comin’ through. One gottdem ole man is comin’ through heyah!” And then he’d cackle to see such fat birds fly.
Yes, I *am* crazy, but I haven’t eaten that gottdem cookie yet!
Until next time,
Olrun
