Repairing a ceiling in K's house, spreading mud, not exactly a Michelangelo at it, listening to As the World Turns, for a full minute thinking one of the characters is a man called Spot ("...Spot you are one of the most amazing Men I've ever met and you deserve..."); its actually Scott, but I may have a new song to work on...

The short of it is, regarding the leak in K's ceiling, there is an intermittent failure in the seal of bathtub drain of M's apartment above. So a trip to the attic where a foregone conclusion as materialist 20th century human condition abides and testifies to a prosperity of sorts; 19th century sewing machines next to 45 inch plasma tv boxes and a Canon windows 95 desktop computer, guitars, teddy bears, old water heaters, clothes, blankets, beads, building materials, knick knacks, Ronco gadgets, souvenirs, reel to reel audio tapes and the close tips of circa 1850 nails coming through the roof...
I judge it a hazard that must be cleared before the tradesman enters, as I'm not touching this crawl-space corroded galvanized bath drain into brass fitting, no sir.
So gather, collapse, and consolidate many cardboard boxes (hating styrofoam) and fill 8 large garbage bags, in a filthy 120 degrees, reckoning this labor will fill three tanks of gas, 1200 miles, west, so that's not bad, but -
a fancy Shopping Bag (Lenox Gifts That Celebrate Life) containing two large ziplock baggies, enclosing two quart sized plastic tubs (inside paper bags) with snap lids. I am a conscientious sorter of things, and certainly this attic has its share of rare fine good and no telling among all the boards and dvd player box junk.
At first I think, bath salts?
Then open the other. It is calcium of an aggregate particle size I recognize - along with a faint, indefinable (dreadful) smell - I recoil.
Human remains.
As if the spirit came out and enervated me, a little like nausea, and I had to take a break.
I bring K his old beautiful guitar that has been residing here two decades at least.
And a soft white Christmas Teddy bear with a blue sweater.
He doesn't know about anyones ashes.
It must be an old tenants he says.
Probably shouldn't leave them there I say.
Oh no, K agrees, they could be haunting the house.
Maybe you could spread them in the garden.
I think of these damn feral cats who I can not keep from shitting in my flower bed,
where consequently nothing but weeds grow.
I think of the Mississippi, five blocks away, sometime this evening.
In the meantime, there's where to keep these two containers -
the fancy shopping bag was torn in the strife of purging the attic.
Not coming into my house.
Not in the bucket in my bikes cargo basket.
There's a plastic cooler under the house.
Cool shady secure chill, someones ashes.
I set it inside.
and Tonight, I think I'm going to go...
down to the river, and hope that's alright by you
.
.
.
So, two quart sized polyethylene snap lid jars, containing human ashes,
sheathed in paper bags enclosed in ziplock baggies, found inside a fancy
department store bag in K's attic this morning, left long ago by tenant unknown,
the sun is waning but yet bright, are you ready?
For a long time.
Ride in the black shoulder bag Rebecca gave me 2003 or so.
Okay I'll tell you two stories, I collected a lot of fine beach stuff in this bag,
from the Gateway to the Spirit North America, and once religiously kept
composition notebook and pen along with blood glucose monitor.
Ahh.
Sorry.
But the funny thing is, at the Greyhound Bus Station in Atlanta,
beginning in New Orleans and headed for Charleston, I was buying a
newspaper when one of its straps got caught in the dispenser and I was...
Right, no change in my pocket to open it.
I spent 10 furious minutes sawing the strap with a key and then run to barely catch my bus!
You tug my shoulder.
About...
Quart and a half of Calcium...
4lbs?
Its a lot of ballast.
What about Washington Square Park -
I'm not getting a clear picture of the Big Muddy.
Kind of Sedimentary?
This grove with a winding path to the Nola Aids Memorial.
Engraved names on granite bricks and glass faces with memorial benches.
I don't know what the flora is called, long leaves, purple flowers.
And how about some grass.
On the lawn.
Bright and sunny. Frisbees and blankets and novel readings and picnics,
that sound alright?
Yes the white chips are kind of conspicuous for much.
Mostly white, some tan, orange, yellow, a blackness or two.
I don't like looking too close.
You know I met this park in October 2005 when it had been taken
over by commune hippies and barefoot doctors.
It was called the Welcome Home Kitchen and it was a beautiful
thing for a traumatized derelict and 4/5ths abandoned city.
800 meals a day, good meals, a place to congregate.
Free Peanut Butter and clothes and condoms.
Meals Ready to Eat.
Very Nice Vegetarian Dinners.
Community.
Then the Property Owners got upset and shut it down after Thanksgiving...
Lets walk down Frenchmen.
I'd like a beer from the Deli.
And a Peanut Crunch bar just for you.
Two pretty young girls in little dresses and chubby arms just came
in all smiles...
You like this kind of evening don't you.
Warm and golden hued, those racketing insects in the trees.
Maybe you were the entomologist, I don't know, cicadas', crickets...
Now past Check Point Charlies.
One guy playing to no one, wah wah 70's funk, lets keep going.
A crosswalk while we wait for a green-light.
I know you were cared about in that fancy shopping bag,
inside a bag, inside a bag and inside these sealed jars.
You must have been alright and maybe just too sudden or much for someone.
I'd guess you are woman about 120-40 lbs, going by previous containers.
I don't know what store, it was so -
lets not talk about that disagreeable attic, I agree.
I know you have been ready for a long time, shoulder tug.
Balcony Music Club - Sunny Side of the Street....
We wont go down Decatur!
Left along the Mint toward the River, Right through the Market.
Is closing now, just a few vendors closing shop.
Would I be surprised at all to learn August 21 is the day you were born.
A bantering going on.
He's saying: That is None of Your Concern.
This is about seeing him next Saturday.
Good natured, it appears, but there's always an edge to things
people say, you know that.
Marvin Gaye on the PA.
Why'd his Papa have to take him like that, but isn't that sweet?
Now live music playing in a courtyard and when we Kiss
Fire...
segue into sax solo -
Now another left.
Smells a little like Singapore by this restaurant.
The waiter is on his game and a big round table is happy.
Its great smelling and eating tasty things don't you think.
Now I can see the Bridge.
This is going to be your view, okay.
Governor Nichols Wharf to the left, Jackson Square to the right,
Algiers just across the way, the Bridge right now, it looks like
a Joel Meyerowitz photograph, this is really fine.
She and I took our 2nd walk in Nola here.
A Saturday in June.
That night she went to a wedding and came back a little past tipsy.
I was staying in this big impressive house all by myself.
We slept in the corner bedroom.
Sometimes we'd try the next one over.
It was like changing sets or inhabiting a beautiful painting.
She said she loved me and it wasn't just the drink saying so.
Well it was, but I did..
Did you know this is where I made a movie called Deja Vu with Denzel?
Yes Washington. Right across there in Algiers.
I was National Guardsman Buck Private DUNN.
$75 a day and good food. I felt like a dope in the uniform, but at least
I didn't have to wear those silly sailor white bell bottoms.
Sure I had a back story - its a little grim for right now though.
I'd board the Ferry with a few dozen sailors, we were going to New Orleans
on leave to Mardi Gras, so we were supposed to be uninhibitedly happy...
There's be an explosion set off by a terrorist to sink the Ferry.
They told us the splashes would be added digitally in Los Angeles.
Yes, I did, and Denzel gave me the Stink Eye for staring.
Oh he is definitely a lot of charisma.
So lets do this.
I'm climbing down the levee over these rocks.
its great being able to walk and balance and hop and carry you.
Now there's a little sandbar.
I'll put my feet in the water.
First Jar.
You are a cloud of powder drifting away from the scatter.
You are a white plume in the water.
You are sinking and filling in the ridges of sand.
Now I'm walking a few yards away in the direction of the Bridge.
You are another cloud of powder drifting away from the scatter.
I've tried to throw you farther.
There's a young man stacking or writing with rocks on the sandbar.
A couple walking along the Levee.
A man sitting up there saying
Last week the water was this high.
Pointing to where he sits.
The young man with the rocks says it can go down fast.
Yeah.
Pause at the trash can.
I'll keep these jars.
Rinse them and keep my mother of pearl shards.
If you don't mind.
Walking back.
The band is playing Chaka Kahn.
Tell Me Something Good.