Yestereen Xy and I rode our bikes down Canal Street and took the ferry across the Mississippi to Algiers Point for the annual Christmas bonfire.
This is without a doubt the biggest fire that most people will ever see in their lives. It is quite impressive. Imagine a large wooden house on the bank of the river, constructed entirely of wood; but where a house would have big empty rooms, this thing is full of more wood. Then imagine that house set on fire and allowed to burn freely.
People line up along the levee to watch the fire, but when it is lit, they quickly retreat, because even from many yards away, it’s like standing in front of a blast furnace. The fire department stands by and regularly hoses down the grassy slope of the levee and the metal police barricades. The water turns to steam.
When I first went to the bonfire two or three years ago, I chastised myself for not bringing a camera. And yet this year, I once again failed to bring a camera. But perhaps that’s a good thing. The heat might have melted the lens.
We met some friends there and, after the fire, we walked over to the Crown & Anchor and drank some good beer.
On the ride home, my bike tire got caught in the groove of the streetcar, and I almost went down. Somehow I retained my balance; the chain came off my bike, but I got it back on easily enough and we got home without further incident.
Yet I woke up this morning to find my knee was fucked up. (No, not the knee I fucked up a couple months ago — the other one.) I can’t fully extend my right leg without pain. I can get around pretty easily, but mainly I’m using it as an excuse to be lazy and spend the day reading and listening to music instead of shopping for groceries or painting the hallway ceiling.