Rolled Up On My House

Posted on April 9, 2007 by Varg

Whoa!

I was just across the street helping a neighbor install a light and several NOPD cruisers rolled up on my house and got out with shotguns and rifles drawn. Two ran up to the door and one around back. My fiance was in the house and had no idea what was going on. I started hollering at them and saying I was the owner and asking what was going on. They asked me how long I lived there and when I said two years they relaxed and asked if I ever saw the former occupants around. I said no and they said if I did, to call them as soon as possible. Apparently he is wanted on some serious charges like rape and kidnapping.

I’d love to keep an eye out for him but I don’t know what he looks like. The officers didn’t have a photo.

I know he tried to screw Fema out of some money too.

This is the second time they have been by looking for him.

Dang.

7 thoughts on “Rolled Up On My House”

TM says:

April 9, 2007 at 7:50 pm

That must have been a frightening sight!
Adrastos says:

April 9, 2007 at 9:19 pm

Hmmm,was it Terance Napoleon? A lowlife named Kenny Veal lived in our house before us but he’s a grifter not a major thug.
Varg says:

April 10, 2007 at 7:25 am

No, but one of his victims did live just a few blocks away. I’m pretty sure my guy isn’t in town anymore. None of the neighbors have seen him in a year or so.But when one of them did, he had an AK with him. I bet everyone was glad when he moved out and I moved in no?
Scott Harney says:

April 10, 2007 at 3:55 pm

Man I didn’t see that on House Hunters!
ashley says:

April 10, 2007 at 8:55 pm

He needed the AK for the live chickens next door.
RoRo says:

April 11, 2007 at 9:48 am

Scared the caca outa me!
LatinTeacher says:

April 13, 2007 at 4:26 pm

That’s AWESOME!! Sounds like a solid upstanding citizen. Hope they catch him. Maybe they should start in Houston.

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Rejoice!

I say that a lot. I sign many pieces with it. I do this because I believe our lives are a true happenstance. A brilliant occurence from nothingness. We are so rare. We are so unlikely. And simply being born isn’t enough. From there we must survive, endure. So each morning, after our Sun departs and is reborn again. Please, for the sake of your ancestors and the Universe in general, hoist that cup of joe up and say, “Rejoice.”

Ours is a soulful existence. No matter how many McMansions, polyester fabrics, auto-tunes, modified foods and social networks we surround ourselves with, we are all still native, passionate beings made of ancient matter. We are organic and we have soul.

Wood also has a warm, soulful quality. Wood has a memory. It retains smells, traumas, events. It even has a calendar. This is why I have chosen it as my medium, for its old soul. I like to think the wood in my work is in its third incarnation. First a tree, then a home and now art. If you have a room that needs a little soul, get a piece. A room can never have enough soul.

My inspiration and subject matter comes from many sources, among them: Humanism, old ballads, trickster tales, flora and fauna, science, myths and folklore, stringed instruments, brass bands, amber spirits, lady vocalists, general relativity and quantum mechanics. Some of my pieces are there just to make a short, simple statement about what’s important in life. Some are more diffuse and abstract in meaning. A personal drama, an enduring line from a poem or novel, a poignant song lyric, the legacy of an important person, a fleeting thought … these are the subjects of my art.

I use hearts often because they are a very abstract way of depicting the human soul without also employing the very subjective human form. The symbolic heart is an apt representation for a person’s experience and essence. A body can immediatly conjure happiness, sorrow, youth, age, anger, bliss. These emotions can get in the way. Sometimes it’s simply about the experience.

I am the son of a sailor and a social worker, the grandson of a gypsy, a dancer and a nurse. I spent my youth moving from port city to port city, watching a lot of road go by and reading World Book Encyclopedia. After my parents settled down on the Gulf Coast, I was a miscreant youth, destroying cars and taking the wrongs things too seriously and the right things not serious enough. Eventually I began replacing my imagination with experience.

I will use any salvaged wood but prefer swamp cypress and longleaf heartwood pine.

I despise waste. Particularly the waste of organic matter. Trees are magnificent. They were here before we arrived and they’ll be around after we are gone. I’m making an effort to save as much wood as possible. Creating art is fun too. But beyond communicating with folks, but beyond making money ad providing for myself, beyond rescuing flooded parts, beyond reveling in the ethereal aroma of heartpine that hasn’t seen the light of day in 400 years, beyond all that, I am trying to make a simple comment on waste.