The Saints & Sinners Literary Festival is this weekend. I got a day pass for Saturday and will be checking out the poetry readings at the Bourbon Pub.
There is a Toy Art Show on Saturday night at 4537 N. Robertson @ 7PM. Tin’s nanny is curating it and it promises to be worth a peek.
There is a photography show at HomeSpace, 1128 St. Roch, starting at 6PM. Worth a stop.
I’m sure there is more – but isn’t this enough?
Ran into a neighbor at the grocery who says they did not clean their house after Jazz Fest because they can’t bear to think that it is over.
A man came over and said he knew me, said he delivered bread to Ugelsich’s and other restaurants for three decades. Leidenheimer of course. He said that Ugelsich is going to open a restaurant again but this time no sandwiches, just plate lunches.
The alligator gar in the bayou has been eating those fluffly white Pekin ducks – oh darn – leave it to a native to eradicate a foreigner.
It’s just a fact that I cannot sit on the front porch without having a lot of stop bys. So last night when a friend was in from California and arrived, there were two friends/neighbors on the porch and another walking up. So I saddled my friend up with Tin and we fled to the Napoleon House where we could get a muffaleta and some quiet time.
You can’t catch up in a mere couple of hours, but you can reconnect, which is what is needed time to time with friends who are now at a distance – the face to face helps anchor you in the reality of your friendship rather than all of the sensory input being digital. We parted on the corner of Chartres by the Bourbon Orleans and in front of UAL in shadows of the evening – a nice visual snapshot before we reenter our virtual world again.
When I think of my mom growing up I always think “glamour” – and Tatjana always called my mom a “stylish dog” – she had these lounge outfits that were out there, bold colors and designs. As I told someone, she was the mother who saw her daughter to the school bus in kitten heels and a boa. So I know I get my sense of style from her. A little daring and a lot of me.
I was reading in the New York Times about designers’ mothers and how they got their first impressions of women dressing. So when I get it just right – like the pink hair strips picking up the paisley from the tunic that goes with the platform bronze shoes – I know I’m channeling mom, and that’s a good thing.
Loca is adapting to the clean house after Jazz Fest.
So since I’m about to go to sleep having written my last entry being about the funk we are all in and I was about to close down shop – I brilliantly remembered a new episode of Louise Log that I hadn’t seen yet because I couldn’t get it to come up when I first got the notice due to wireless issues. I’m so tired but I clicked on it and wala – Louise saves the day! – she is perfect in this episode.
I was just having this whole talk with a friend about sexual performance and how contrived it all seems to be especially when your boy toy wants to be thrown up against the wall and you can’t stop the giggles but when I saw Louise in this episode, I thought let me gyrate my hips and jump on the bed like a sex kitten my neighbor says she used to be – oo cha barracuda.
I am in that mode where I want to run to the moon and I think a lot of others are in the same shape. A friend/neighbor stopped by today and said that she was in a funk and she can’t figure out how to get out of it. Another friend/neighbor stopped in to say that she is living too much in her head and can’t seem to feel fun and whacky.
I watched a video clip that a friend had taken of me hopping up and down to Michael Franti but instead of seeing the joy in my face, I was focusing on the jiggle in my body and hating myself for having spent the last few weeks in major indulgence mode even though that means something SO different than it did ten even five years ago. But I hated myself for hating myself.
I decided today the funk was here, I feel funky, I have PJFB and so does everyone else around here even Tin who keeps asking me if we are going to Jazz Fest and who pulled out the newspaper that my friend/neighbor brought over because he remembered that Trombone Shorty’s picture was in it.
Now that Jazz Fest is over:
The streets look a little less colorful.
My neighbors’ backyards seem too quiet.
The food choices seem so limited:
The musicians don’t appear larger than life:
The post Jazz Fest blues is playing on every station in town:
My colleague and I met for the morning to talk about business and then we had lunch and late in the afternoon we watched, How Do You Know with Reese Witherspoon and Paul Rund. A therapist in the movie says the end all be all of what he’s learned from his clients is that you need to know what you want and be able to ask for it. It took me 48 years to do that and when I did figure it out I said I wanted to live in New Orleans and adopt a child.
So now if I complain, someone needs to hit my head with a brick.
But meanwhile, I realize the importance of many different kinds of people in my life and Tin’s life. Like a friend who will explains the difference between a boy and a girl’s anatomy. And understanding different music from different musicians. And having those around us that love and want to support us in mysterious ways.
To all of this I want to know now not how to make money but how to make a difference and I’m offering that question up to the universe because I think it has an answer for me.
I have suffered from anomia for as long as I can remember – I’ll be introduced to someone and either I give them a name and never accept theirs or I cannot make the name I learn stick, even for a minute. This happens often and it would be embarrassing except that I immediately just warn people I can’t remember your name.
A word for someone who never laughs is (agelast) and a word for one who laughs too much is (abderian). A word for hatred of reason is (misology).
Awesome words.