Jimbaux goes unnoticed, let the freedom wash away.
Losing focus, the pretense is second nature.
It's a broken life that I cling too,
Trying to make right.
I feel dismayed, just like you do.
I feel decayed..
So find me a way, to leave this wasted life behind me. (this wasted life)
So find me a way, to leave this wasted life behind me after all.
That is a hauntingly beautiful song, isn’t it?
Lafayette Subdivision Haul
Wow! Yesterday, my first time back in New Orleans, where I lived for much of early adulthood, was such an intense day! Today, before heading back west, I spent some time in the homeland and got a few pictures and visited friends.
Normally, I try to achieve balance in these montages, with some symmetry in the orientation of the subjects shown, but there weren’t enough pictures today for there to be views of trains that weren’t telephoto-wedge shots of the train approaching the left frame of the image!
Genesis
This morning, at a sacred spot, a cat approached me.
I heard the whistle of the sugar mill this morning, and it was beautiful.
Yesterday morning and this morning are my first mornings awakening in this neighborhood in the 21st Century.
As I was walking around in the darkness this morning, I was, strangely enough, almost not thinking about my big day yesterday.
The whole geometry of this intersection is still written into my muscle memory all these many years later. I just feel it.
It reminds me of that Wallace Stegner quote from Wolf Willow:
Expose a child to a particular environment at his susceptible time and he will perceive in the shapes of that environment until he dies.
Yes. No person has control over the circumstances of his upbringing. How could I have chosen to have been born in southern Louisiana and have grown up here at this spot? And how could I have chosen the geometry through which my mind views the world and will until I take my final breaths?
I feel how the world still reduces me to a point and then measures itself from me. Perhaps the meadowlark singing from a fence post – a meadowlark whose dialect I recognize – feels the same way. All points on the circumference are equidistant from him; in him all radii begin; all diameters run through him; if he moves, a new geometry creates itself around him.
Yes, and Nietzsche apparently knew that, ultimately, knowledge was always influenced by perspective, that facts themselves were illusions. Knowledge is essentially always “by someone of something”.
Yes!
I returned to the host.
I have a desire to be here, too.
I want to go – and come – home.
People need safety and security.
I enjoyed being in this house.
I really didn’t know what I was going to do today. I desired to photograph the westbound Sunset Limited somewhere, and I very much desired to see and to photograph the UP local train at Melodia. I also wanted to see a relative, a friend, and an advocacy-work contact, though trying to do all of that would have been ambitious.
I had trouble sleeping last night. I think that it’s because I had plenty on my mind. I was emotional, jacked up from the day.
It felt weird to be waking and driving out of this neighborhood, especially since I was not old enough to drive an automobile when I lived here.
I learned shortly before I shut the computer down to leave the house that Normal Lear died. He died yesterday, apparently.
When you’re autistic, you’re always an anthropologist, and maybe an anarchist, too. You feel like an alien, because you’re made to feel like one. I have never been more or less autistic than I am now. Whatever attempts that I make to act or seem normal doesn’t change who I am.
I took Veterans Drive, this strange concrete street.
Schriever
I went to Schriever but took no pictures there. I noticed Big Swole’s Charger was there.
There were 10 or 12 cars at the eastern end of the storage track, tank cars and one hopper car, and then the cut of cars in the branch stub. There is one lumber car on the Houma Branch, BNSF 561248 loaded with Sierra Pacific lumber, the same one that was here last Thursday. That’s strange.
My friend is available around this evening, apparently. Maybe I’ll go hang out with him then.
Breakfast – and Penguin Man
So, I went to Thibodaux to get breakfast.
I like the cypress trees here!
It’s weird that I go to this place, since eating here never was a tradition for me when I was living around here.
I guess that I just didn’t want a fast-food breakfast and don’t know of good breakfast places around here, since I didn’t need such places when I lived around here.
There are really small glasses here at Huddle House. That’s a huge pet peeve of mine, along with an attendant pet peeve of mine that is even worse, which I will describe soon, because it happened here, pissing me off.
Here is the meal.
The second pet peeve is that waiters see you sitting there not eating, with an empty glass because the glass is so damn small, with food still to eat that you haven’t eaten, and ask you if you want a to-go box instead of noticing that your glass is empty, which is the reason that you’re not eating. No, I don’t want a to-go box! I’d like to be able to finish this here, I say in frustration! When they don’t get the should-be-obvious hint, I have to say that I’d like to not risk choking in this restaurant.
Like, you’re literally telling me that you don’t care that I am sitting here with an empty cup. The reason that am not eating what is left of my meal is that you’ve left me with nothing with which to wash it down!
What’s even worse – and this didn’t happen here today – is when they start taking your plate of food away, without bothering to ask if you’re done.
This is when something interesting happened. The Penguin Man walked into Huddle House. He looks toward me, but I don’t know if he recognizes me, and I don’t know if I want to talk to him, but I get the impression that he is a regular here. The waitress talked to him like he is a regular here.
My advocacy contact messaged me while this was happening to say that he can’t meet today.
After my drink situation was resolved, I finished my food and closed out the check, but I stayed sitting there for a while, to monitor the Penguin Man and because I was thinking of approaching him.
It may have been seeing him that led to this epiphany that I haven’t really fleshed out, but I’ll try. I was imagining the possibility of telling him that I am autistic and him replying sarcastically, “oh, Jim, he’s autistic now, he is different now” and how, until relatively recently, “different” is a euphemism for gay, and my frustration that us hetero autistic men have been left behind with LGBTQ acceptance.
The reason that seeing the Penguin Man made me think of all of this is that insinuations of gayness were a common thing in the context of which I knew him.
I remember reading, over the last few years, a couple of LGBTQ autistic persons, one, a woman, the other, a man, express frustration that their queerness is more accepted in autistic spaces than their autism is accepted in queer spaces, and I felt so validated by that! I am happy for the LGBTQ people who are getting more acceptance, but I am resentful of how some of those same people are leaving people like me behind and are even hostile to people like me.
That helped me to make sense of some dark thoughts that I had been having, which is this weird mix of jealousy and resentment at (apparently-not-autistic) LGBTQ people who can move so seemingly easily through a society through which I can’t navigate, a society that is more hostile to people like me than it is to people like them.
Now, however, I am thinking that maybe increasing LGBTQ acceptance has helped the autism-positive cause in multiple ways, even if indirectly, with acceptance of divergence, but also to allow the autism to be a thing to shine itself, rather than being some way to explain away gayness, because there are so many parallels, because there is a reason that seeing the Penguin Man makes me think of the way that bullying and discrimination for autistic traits looks very similar to anti-gay bullying. It’s not a coincidence that it’s like that.
I’m hanging out here after I finished my food and closed out the check because I want to overhear Penguin May say whatever he may say, and I am not sure that I don’t want to go talk to him. If I were a little further along in this job, I’d go talk to him. But I am not, so I am not going to. I just don’t feel like saying “hey, I have a license now.”
Saint Chuck
So, for the westbound Sunset Limited, I decided to try something different.
I am trying a couple of views from behind the church in Saint Charles.
I would settle on the above view, but not after a long, frustrating wait.
The groundskeeper approached me and thought that I had been photographing eagles. Then, the administrator came and said with a smile that the place charged for taking pictures, to which I replied that he could have a 15% commission of anything that I earned from this outing, because, you know, 15% of zero is zero.
Actually, Facebook might like to have a word here. 🤨
Anyway, why does the train keep getting delayed?
I was yawning, and now I was thirsty, especially considering what I ate. I got to hear church bells. I wonder if I should have eaten at all, but I got to see Penguin Man, even if he didn’t see me, and have that epiphany about neurodivergence and queerness. Yes, I am different, but not like that.
I was thinking about the time that I did work at this church.
I called Amtrak Julie multiple times as I was standing atop my truck here. At 11:11, Julie told me that the train should be in Schriever at 11:19. That was the first time that I call today that wasn’t a delay from a previous time. So, I should be seeing a train at any time now. Why am I not seeing a train?
This little pump on the southeastern side of the cemetery went on and is irritating. Neurodivergent accessibility means building sound barriers.
At 11:15, Julie told me that the train should be at Schriever at 11:22, and, now, I finally heard horns!
Here is our train.
The heat distortion is causing problems, but this shot is still okay.
Here is a classic Amtrak-behind-a-sugarcane-field shot.
I like it.
Right after the train passed me at the church, I called Julie again, and she again said that it was estimated to arrive at Schriever at 11:22. So, that tells us that there is like a five-minute span from here to there.
Now, it was time to explore the cemetery. I will refrain from interspersing text with these cell-phone images of the cemetery, both because I don’t have much to say about the subjects and because what I do have to say about the subjects is too personal.
The really strange thing is that even after the train had passed and I wasn’t taking pictures, I just sat there in the truck at the church, tired, feeling like taking a nap, and I would at home if I still lived here, but the main reason that I stayed sitting here for a while – even though my aunt can’t meet today, so I have no reason to go down the bayou, and I couldn’t really stay here due to heat distortion – is that I could not decide what to do!
I could not decide where to go. So, I just stayed put.
I got to thinking that that is a big metaphor. People stay in jobs not because they like them but because they can’t decide where to go. They stay put because they can’t decide if they should do something else.
I’ve gotten over that feeling of regret because I know that some advanced degree or some good job (well, except a few) isn’t going to solve my problem (but the good job would not solve ALL of the problems.)
Penguin Man wouldn’t be understanding about autism. Plenty of people aren’t.
Especially now that it was an hour after I photographed the #1, this isn’t a good shot, due to the heatwaves. So, I will have to come here when the heatwaves aren’t bad.
Wait, I am still at the church? “I don’t know what I am doing. I am just checking the tablet. I am getting hungry. I guess that I am going to have to eat that banana. I am so tired, and, of course, I cannot sleep out here. I am halfway hoping that Bill cancels, because I don’t know if I can meet with him. I just want to get the UP local at Melodia if I can, and then get out of here.”
I remember the time that we were working here with that construction company and that L&D locomotive, the 1850, passed all by itself eastbound. And Spokkie said that it was all “by itself,” and I said that, yeah, it’s just going to Raceland to pick up cars that are already there to work the sugar mill and the paper plant. “uh, how you know that; you don’t know that.”
Food In The City
So, I finally moved. I went to a place that makes good cheeseburgers.
While I was here, I got a message from my friend that said that we could meet at around 17:00. Okay, that’s going to put me back at the house late on a day when I am on little sleep, but I guess that that’s a plan.
It’s ironic that my friend text messages me right when I am right next to where he and I traditionally meet. There is something going on with maintenance, as I photographed maintenance trucks on the levee of the reservoir.
I sat outside in the truck in the shade to eat the burger, because it was so cold but dry and bright. I guess that I need lotion, but I didn’t even think of that.
Melodia Hat Trick
So, next, on this anti-climactic day, I went to Melodia, where I spent much of Monday.
There were loaded sugarcane trucks leaving Thibodaux southward, presumably going to Raceland, even though there is a sugar mill in Thibodaux. I had thought about buying some coffee, but I decided to not get coffee, as I was feeling better after that burger.
It was so bright out here, but I was more alert and awake right now than I was before. I was drinking Gatorade, and that might have helped!
Earlier, I was reading about narcissism and how it forms. It’s interesting.
It’s frustrating to not have heard from Patty.
I hadn’t yet heard any song today that I think is good and should be today’s song, but, while I was at Five Guys, I thought of the Seether song “Waste” – which is so appropriate. It is a hauntingly beautiful song, and so, so appropriate.
Monday, two days ago, such an eventful day for me around here, seems like such a distant memory now. I was thinking about how well-lit my host’s house is, compared to my obnoxious prison.
I was so tired, looking forward to a shower and a shave tonight. Also, it has been 12 days since I got a haircut, and I feel like I need another one, but entirely because of the bottom of it.
It’s so quiet out here at Melodia.
Finally, a train – though not the one that I wanted to see – came.
Well, I guess that that is neat! Because I had just looked down the track for a headlight before, the horns had caught me by surprise, but I still had plenty of time to set up.
The Ferromex locomotive is neat.
Look! It’s Silky, leaning out the conductor’s side window to wave at me!
Check out that pipe.
Check out that loaded centerbeam car.
Check out those bulkhead flatcars loaded with plate steel.
Isn’t that neat? This is BNSF Railway train H-CSXLAL1-05A, it had approximately 124 cars, and way too many of them were graffitied.
Now what do I do? I stayed here, because I wanted to get the Union Pacific Railroad’s local train.
At 15:42, I saw a headlight!
Is that my desired UP “51 local” train? Or is that the L&D job coming? It would be appropriate, since I photographed this job 20 years ago today, but I would prefer to see the UP local train.
Well, it’s the L&D train, and I at least prefer to see this over another BNSF Railway train.
Look, it has a flatcar on the end! That is odd.
No customers – unless there is a new one of which I don’t know – that this train serves ships or receives anything using flatcars; so, that must be a maintenance-of-way car.
The train passed me at 15:49.
Now what?
I would love to get a hat trick at Melodia! Considering that I got another westbound train just a little way down the bayou from here earlier today, another train – and, particularly, the UP local train – would make this a haul.
Please send me the UP local train! Today is shaping up like 20 years ago tomorrow was.
At 16:07, I saw a headlight! I will get a hat trick at Melodia and a haul for the day, regardless of what train this is, but that this is the UP 51 local train made my day! The train came into view at about 16:11, and the horn sounded beautiful!
I use these terms – “hat trick” and “haul” – not so much based on the number of trains but more based on the number of railroads. This line is unusual in that four railroad companies operate trains here. So, today, I have photographed trains from all four railroads that operate trains on this line.
Because all of my images for today are of westbound trains on this stretch of mostly-east-west running track, I have an imbalance in the montage.
There it is! UP 1523 pulls 15 cars westbound at Melodia Plantation. This is the Union Pacific Railroad’s New Iberia Turn, and the cars will be interchanged to the Louisiana & Delta Railroad in New Iberia; the crew will lay over tonight and bring the interchange traffic from the L&D to Avondale.
The boxcars are either empty and bound for the Cargill salt mine in Breaux Bridge or loaded and bound for a paper distributor in Lafayette.
Twenty years ago, UP and L&D conducted interchange differently. Westbound UP train MAVBT – Manifest, Avondale to Beaumont – would stop in New Iberia to set out cars bound for L&D and pick up westbound cars to bring them to Houston (or, at least, to Beaumont), while L&D would take UP interchange traffic that had to go east from New Iberia to Schriever to hand to the daily out-and-back local train, which is what is happening in the set of images that I made 20 years ago today.
Some things change, and other things stay the same; that’s definitely a theme of the last few days, too.
That’s all from Melodia for today.
Even though it’s only 16:15, there is no point in me sticking around here anymore, but there would have been 20 years or even 10 years ago, back when the UP ran more trains here and when BNSF ran more interesting trains here.
Schriever
I went to Schriever. I got stuck in traffic on Percy Brown Road.
I heard “Say It Ain’t So” by Weezer on the radio. By the time I arrived in Schriever, the L&D Schriever Job had not only tied up but the crew left, too; I was trying to catch them. They don’t stick around like Willie would usually do!
So, I took some pictures of houses.
I waited at Schriever to hear from my friend.
There was nothing happening here except for lumber being loaded onto a flatbed trailer.
I think that I would have been able to chase that UP train and beat him somewhere west of here. I’d have had to have gone to Raceland and gotten onto Highway 90, though.
Also, I am having a problem with the camera, the one functioning camera that I have left; on many shots, the auto focus is not firing. Now that I am thinking about it, I wonder if it is a lens problem, and, now that I have only one functioning camera, I don’t have a good way to test it.
Here is some of the lumber delivered to Schriever by rail leaving by truck, almost certainly going to Dufrene Building Material.
Wow! Stephanie’s house is green. I wonder if she died.
Someone told me that Poonie died. Mr Neal had willed it to her, but then she, too, died. That is part of why the restaurant building isn’t there anymore. It was also damaged by Ida.
Stephanie here reminded me of Poonie, which is why I thought of Poonie when I thought of Stephanie. I stopped wanting to talk to Stephanie because she became a Clay Higgins acolyte and an anti-vaxxer. I can’t deal with that horrid awfulness.
All of it adds to my trauma.
Friends And Dogs
Finally, after dusk, I met with my friend.
We had a good but difficult conversation. The topics were difficult.
That’s all for pictures for today.
At 18:35, I finally left and headed back west to the land of exile.
Highway Thoughts
I was driving by Franklin when I had an important realization about autistic masking. I thought about that crew of folks whom I befriended at college orientation, who had gone to a particular high school just far enough away from mine that they didn’t really know anyone who knew me.
It was so crazy, because that was my first chance to put what I had learned about being a “normal person” into practice with a group of people who didn’t know my past and, therefore, how they were ‘supposed to’ treat me even if I was acting normal, and it seemed to work for a while. I just eventually departed from them.
A name on a grave that I saw earlier today in the Saint Charles cemetery prompted this realization.
Yeah, I had that crew of folks fooled for a while. I just couldn’t keep it up, though. My true self came out, and, perhaps more importantly, I didn’t actually like them. I found my people at the newspaper a few years later. It was good.
One thing that I said to my friend tonight is that some of my best friends are former coworkers, because he was saying that. I am just bothered by his not getting that it’s not a decision that I am making by not being friends with Trump voters, and that makes me trust him less. It’s not a Trump Derangement Syndrome thing, because it’s about these people’s values.
He also strawmanned me about the reason for the embarrassment about why I am not living at home. He doesn’t understand the threat of Trumpism, and that bothers me. I am just now seeing how that is a connection with the Gym Lady thing.
I shot pictures of four trains of the four different railroads that work this line today, the first time in a long time that I do that, especially in that part of the subdivision.
I wonder about another college associate. I didn’t treat him with respect, because I was that socially-awkward person crapping down on other socially-awkward people. I learned to do that, and it was really terrible. I was one of the outcasts, and I responded by treating fellow outcasts in the way that I had been treated as an outcast. Power really is a powerful lesson to learn, apparently.
Anyway, those folks, mostly dudes but a few girls, from that just-far-enough-away high school at my university orientation at least initially treated me like a normal dude, like the “normal” people in high school treated each other but didn’t treat me. It was the first real experiment of implementing the learned the lessons of neurotypicality, even if I had more such lessons to learn.
Anyway, at 20:28, exhausted, I pulled into the driveway. I hate this place. This place looks and feels different after spending a few days back home.
That’s all. I hope that you liked the pictures and stories.
Jbx
