The complete breakdown of New Orleans has affected me in weird ways. I’m going through 9/11 levels of anxiety where I am reading a million web pages trying to understand how this could happen and what is happening now. I feel like I know FEMA front and back now. I know what mitigation means now. It annoys me that I have to go to the BBC to find out the latest news on my own country, but it was there I first heard about New Orleans police participating in the looting. I am processing information like I am cramming for a test.
Part of it comes from sheer disbeleif. As a writer, a reader and a gamer, I think about disaster What If’s all the time. I rule out scenarioes a lot of times on the basis of “Human beings are smart, no human being government would just let a city sit under water and make zero effort to rescue people.” Then I see shit like this for the past three days and I realize that my society is just very lucky we have a lenient wimp of a writer doing our story.
The unexpected side effect of this human misery is a desire to write. I’ve been dry without an idea in the world for months but now I’m almost desperate to write something. I have to carve out a world, a better sexier fun world where people don’t die in stadiums while a president poses with a cake. I don’t have any ideas but I have this sheer need to write. if I don’t write something, anything, I am afraid I will turn into a zombie watching CNN for some ray of sunshine.