The following excerpts are from journal entries from the late 1990s-early 2000s.
There was an overgrown rotting cemetery across the street from the Adams house. I loved that place. The neighborhood kids had opened a hole in the fence, big enough for a person to squeeze through. I would wake up early and creep into the graveyard to sit and write in peace in the mornings.
It was usually quiet, except when the children would play amongst the dead on Saturdays, and the Baron would marvel at the sight.
In its own way, Cemetery #1 (that was its name) kind of grew on me. So I decided to take my new found friend Elijah to visit the graves in the evening, and I had never been there in the evening. At first, it went well. We took pictures and walked down the cracked cobblestone paths in the cool shade.
I hid behind one of the more significant tombs in my secret game of hiding and seeking. When I felt little legs crawling over the back of my thighs. The roaches were feasting on the dead by day and emerging from the cracks of the tombs at night! Hundreds of them emerged as the sun began to set. I swear at that moment, it was the spirits of the dead descending on us in the form of a swarm of roaches. Because they began to chase us.
“Rise from the ashes and decay. Rise from the prison of your grave. Rise above the standard and the norm. Rise into the eye of the storm.” – KMFDM
I am no longer afraid to leave New Orleans or of what lays ahead. I have risen out of the storm…