August 13, 2021

Waffle House.

I’m thinking about Waffle House this evening. (Lightning is rolling overhead. The sky is a shade between blue and gray.) I’m thinking about this photo essay Bitter Southerner ran on Waffle House. I’m thinking about how I want to go to a Waffle House and watch a hurricane shrink down to a human size, grow an anthropomorphic set of limbs, and then attempt to enter, reduced to knocking plaintively on one of the windows as the building perseveres. I want the Waffle House Centers that spring up over the course of a hurricane to start to figure out what to do with the arrival of what Mike Duncan called Nemesis — that is, the Climate Emergency. I want comfort to find ways to continue as people do the work that needs to be done.