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I was thinking about my friend Thais who died in a car accident several years ago – I met her when I was 13 and she lived in my brother’s apartment complex. She was a bookie and she had the coolest apartment I had ever seen – plants and candles and dark lighting and she had frosted blonde hair and sapphire eyes and sexy buck teeth. She taught me how to take a compliment. She also made me stand in front of a mirror and look at my body naked and admire my strengths. How do you repay that?

There is nothing worse than aggressive stupidity.
– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I was telling my friends in Boston how I had received from two friends emails missives that said “don’t flatter yourself” (read: you’re not that special to me). It’s interesting that I thought both of them were special to me. It goes to show you, you think you’re having this kind of relationship but suddenly one thing can trigger deep underlying hatred and aggressively stupid behavior and you realize that the relationship has not been on equal footing.

I miss Thais.

House terrors and meltdown yesterday as the realization that resources are tight and I’ve got the SLOWEST people in the world working at the LaLa – K pulled his usual rabbit out of a hat – the one where he pulls me aside as I’m running out the door to tell me how I’m dropping the ball on everything and that I am rushing him and it is causing all sorts of problems. Naturally, he pushed my buttons and I just start screaming. Lovely.

Meanwhile, went to S’s opening at Carol Robinson and it is good to see an artist meet her medium = good job S. L and P were there and we walked down to the Le Petite Grocery for a cocktail and Martha – the bartender – made one of the best cosmopolitans I’ve had. Then got a call from L, man of mystery, that he had come back early from Florida – so went to meet him and we ended up at HOB to see the Fray – sold out concert that as usual he was able to get us in.

Arlene’s in the pokey till I return – she was none to happy about that decision but I had a chat with her when she was resisting going through the door – I told her I had to go on a business trip to feed both of us and I am doing my part so she needs to do her part – she turned a deaf ear and stared at me as if I am a murderer.

Boston, bidness, and the girls await me with a trip to the gargoyle store. Then NY.

You have to go to MeauxBar on Rampart Street. It was the Golden Star ages ago when I lived at the Burgundy Inn with K, and my sister lived in the hotel up front with G, and that was a strange and wonderous time. But I digress. The MeauxBar has a delicious steak salad and yummy calamari as well coconut shrimp and many other tantalizing eats. And if you are lucky enough Debbie might wait on you and she is so easy on the eyes – great blonde hair, sexy eyes lined in black eyeliner and a terrific body that you just feel so good eating and watching.

R, G and E and I were there late last night. E was telling me interesting musician perspectives on musicians here in the city. R was telling G about bisexuality. The woman next to us was a musician’s squeeze who knew E well and she was part of the ambience as well.

Ah, sitting amongst the pulchritude is sometimes a joyous thing to behold.

You know how in InStyle or Marie Claire they show photos of celebrities and then have quotes you are supposed to match to faces. Well there are no photos here and not even an initial but this morning walking around the bayou these quotes recently told to me were flying around my head disembodied from their maker:

The contractor is on his way over right now to talk about the fact that we are 85% over budget.

I stripped for three years and made a lot of money. And to think he questions my ability to seduce him.

Is it just that no matter who I’m having sex with I wish it were someone else?

I guess I just want so much for us all to get along again like I think we used to that maybe I sometimes work too hard at it and stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.

Don’t be ridiculous and don’t flatter yourself. We don’t live in Rachelworld.

Poodle – So nice to hear from you.

Today there is the Mirlton Festival, the Magazine Street festival, Sandy’s art opening at Carol Robinson, Susan Cowsill playing, on and on – too much to do when I have to get ready to leave for Boston tomorrow morning.

I’m starting to get house terrors again but I think it is in anticipation of this marketing trip and the tight squeeze on my finances as I round the bend to completion of the LaLa. I called S to see if in a pinch I could maybe lean on him but the response was so tepid that I figured I’m on my own here.

I went by the LaLa this morning with Arlene and it is a beautiful day outside with the pelicans dive bombing the bayou and herons skimming across the water. The painter painted the wrong walls rust color in my office and so now has to undo what he has done. P finally cleaned up his paint mess on the side of the house. Oh my, the list is endless.

Off to the Pitot House for the last of the Cork & Bottle wine tastings and a neighborhood band playing under the moonlight and sweet olives. Burnt orange horizon and always fun awaiting.

A friend recently told me I have the sex drive of a man – really? – au contraire, I think I have the sex drive of a woman, because the women I know want sex far more frequently then men do. Where does that myth of female sexuality come from? Men, perhaps?

A male friend said I have an antiquated notion of man-woman relations because I like my men to initiate – I’m not giving into the modern world on this one – as told before in this here blog, women like to be hunted, most smart, independent women I know anyway – man I am interested in calls, I answer; man invites, I show up; man initiates sex and I’m a genie in a bottle. Much as my male friend said he would like for once for a woman to come onto him – I don’t believe him for one second.

I don’t know why it is that people born on November 7 seem to be so special to me. I just found out that Twickler, who did my roof, is going to be 65 on November 7th. I really enjoyed when he was working on the LaLa – he’s wise, uber competent, and a real New Orleans character.

W was born on November 7 – early this morning, thinking about W’s birthday coming up I started welping up and then out and out weeping in Blue on the way back from the gym. I laughed my way out of it by thinking of what R said the other day in his email – “you’re such a strong woman” – really now? how many strong women do you know pull their F150s over in the middle of the road to cry their eyes out over a 7-year-old boy?

L was telling me a story last night whereby there was a suicide and all of the children were disbursed to relatives. Not that I want a suicide but how come kids don’t show up on my front porch is what I want to know? I wonder if when the LaLa is done, if I put a basket by my front door if someone will come leave a kid there for me. Maybe I need to concern myself with a chicken in my pot rather than a baby in my basket. Who the hell knows what I am supposed to concern myself with – I’m still wondering if I should get a spray on tan.

Thank god I have such strong self-esteem because when a man tells me he prefers tanned, healthy looking women to my pallor and a more natural look to my unnatural red hair all I say to myself is self, I say, la di da, I have beautiful perfect skin and god made a mistake in coloring me a blonde because I was born to be a redhead – all I did was correct the mistake. I wonder why this man didn’t mention the fact that I’m not thin. Maybe he didn’t notice?