i need something to pick at

do i go to new orleans? i have an itinerary saved. www.cleanno.org has a horrifying video taken immediately post-katrina; the icon for it is in the upper right-hand corner of the screen, and it's mind-blowing.
i still feel frantic and rudderless. went out with j last night; we met up with the people who kicked my ass in poker on new year's day. it was very fucking fun. our relationship has been, other than a few inebriated snogs several months ago, strictly platonic, but i have been having impure thoughts of late. it must be the weather. darn it all.
this evening:
-the bus driver turned on the wrong street. the other passengers immediately started braying. "what the hell is he doing? he thinks it's the 49!" the bus was on the wire and couldn't just turn around; the driver meekly called the main office to figure out what to do. everyone was being incredibly rude about the whole thing. "goddamn it all" huffed a man behind me, opening the windows with dramatic bangs.
-another bus driver pulled up to a stop and said to a guy waiting with his bike: "i remember you. you're not getting on this bus." "are you kidding me?" the guy spluttered as the doors shut in his face. it is hard to look indignant whilst wearing a helmet and spandex. like an ass, i smirked.
-i passed a man laying on his back and doing leg lifts in the park. it looked odd from afar; as i got closer i realized that he had only one leg. he was laughing at nothing as i walked by, the stump deeply tanned and waving around.
-a bitch at the bartell's called me 'sir.' she didn't see my face, just my dyke-garb. "oh, i'm so sorry!" she exclaimed loudly when i got to the counter. and she didn't fucking shut up. "i thought you were a man! you looked like a man from back there, where i couldn't see you!" she was obviously embarrassed and trying to cover it up by babbling obnoxiously. i was more disgusted than mortified. at least she thought i was a girl from the neck up. and yes, i am dressed exceptionally asexually today. apart from my heels (thick and clumpy) i could be hewing trees.
-i passed another man, long flowing santa beard and resplendent cape, sprawled on the sidewalk, screaming drunkenly at the equally inebriated woman standing over him. i walked around them, onto the scrubby grass, expressionless.
*
i don't know what the fuck i am doing. i feel absolutely fucking aimless. thank god for gravity.
thank god for walking, for blossoms on trees, for ten years after on the radio, for lavash bread and red grapes and money to burn, if i could figure out what to burn it on. other than new orleans, by myself, guilt and privelege comingling in dissonance.