Well, we're just about at the end of the road for Blogging New Orleans. As you may know, Friday the 14th is our last day as a live website. Into every life a little rain must fall, or so it's said, and this is just another example of that truism.

Speaking of rain, it's also said that it never rains unless it pours. This week, New Orleans is being drenched by wandering downpours that soak parts of the city while other parts stay dry. The photo was taken on Tuesday from the railroad tracks at Burgundy and Press Street in the Bywater, those dark columns are sheets of rain falling over the remoter reaches of the Upper 9th Ward, and as you can see, the rest of the area had sunny skies.

Weather here is pretty chaotic sometimes. Rain can fall on you from a seemingly clear blue sky. It can hit like a fist in some neighborhoods while others nearby don't get so much as a sprinkle. I think it's incredible; the idiosyncratic weather is one of the charms of New Orleans, in my opinion. Hyper-localized micro-cloudbursts, my term for these wandering small scale showers, keep things interesting around here.

Sudden, unexpected, and violent, they offer a handy metaphor for life these days. Lately, things for me personally have been substantially rainy (metaphorically), like some kind of existential storm has taken up a position over my head, sending watery sheets of questionable luck down upon me. I won't dwell overmuch on any of this, but since mid-July, I have dealt with a string of misfortunes that make me rethink my skepticism towards voodoo, particularly hexes.

Just a brief rundown: My computer (upon which I rely to write) had a fatal motherboard crash in late July. (It has since been repaired with a new motherboard, and a big THANK YOU goes to Ted C. at Common Ground tech support for his invaluable assistance in this matter.)

Then my bicycle was stolen in the middle of the day from the main branch of the New Orleans Public Library while I was inside. The "security" dude told me there are bike thefts every day there. My question to him should have been, "So then why the hell are you in here instead of out there?"

My housemates were roughhousing one night in late August and hit a table where my digital camera was. It fell and broke, and only the persistence born of my desperation brought it back to life.

Just when I was recovering from my computer and camera woes, my favorite outlet for my writing -- this very site -- was selected for retirement. I'll keep writing, of course, but will lament the loss of this space for community dialogue.

My car's brakes then started going bad, and now the car sits in a shop with an estimated $440 worth of repairs due.

And last night, my cell phone died with finality, taking the phone numbers of hundreds of friends with it. [Note: if you are a friend of mine and you are reading this, give me a call. Same number for me, but brand new phone-MR]

I begin to wonder if someone put a curse on me. New Orleans is, after all, the birthplace of American Voudoun.

I must note that these misfortunes are only manifesting themselves in the material plane; my relationships with friends, family, co-workers, and neighbors are generally wonderful, and it's a rare day that I don't randomly run into a friend or acquaintance whom I might not have seen in a while. Not to mention meeting new people just about every day, too. I am very lucky in ways that the misfortunes of the material world can not dim.

Speaking of dim, the light bulb in my bedroom just popped. I hope there's still a step ladder in the house, 'cos that bulb is 14 feet off the ground.