I spent yesterday getting back into the swing of regular life after a two week visit with my mother. Not recuperating, so to speak, but adjusting to her being gone and not having an extra person in the house. Two weeks may seem like a long visit with your mom but, I have to say, it went by quickly and relatively smoothly. We didn't go out at night as often as I would have liked but we ate well and got to spend time together. And lately I've been dwelling on how short life is and wondering just how much time we have left together. The answer is, I'm sure, 'not enough'. No matter how much I enjoy the 1100 mile buffer zone that seperates me and my family, the thought of my parents not being there some day weighs on my mind more and more each day. I'm facing our mortality. But there's no going back for me. I'd rather be waterboarded than move back to Bordentown, but I wouldn't mind my parents coming here. In fact, I often encourage my mother to do so, and I believe that she really wants to but finds the task of doing so daunting. I don't know, I guess I firmly believe that life is too short to not do what's in your heart, no matter what that may be......moving to a new city, quitting a crappy job, going back to school, starting your own business, getting out of a bad relationship, writing that novel. You only go around once and sometimes you just gotta take a risk, even if it seems to be less than responsible. Life is more exciting when you lighten up on the responsibility, I tell ya. Anyhoo....here's some high moments of our visit.....
The scrumptious Kobe Beef Cheeseburger Po' Boy @ Hermes Bar
Chorizo&cheese nachos w/ fresh squeezed fruit margaritas (pineapple cilantro = fabulous!)@ El Gato Negro
Port of Call - mushroom burgers and monsoons
Drinks and eye candy @ Napoleon's Itch (On this day, again, reaffirming why I don't like drinking too much.)
The always amazing Adolfo's
An oh-so tender filet mignon @ The Gumbo Shop
Watching the awesome musicians and actors in "Nine Lives" at Le Petit Theatre du Vieux Carre'
The Palm Court for a tasty dinner, strong drinks, & beautiful music provided by Leroy Jones. Loved our waiter, Stanley!!
Tending to the courtyard, talking, laughing, and spending time with friends.
I was sad to see it end. Every day, through the "magic" of facebook, I note the number of my friends who have lost their mother. I feel very lucky to have mine and wish we didn't have all of these miles between us. I cherish the days we get to spend together....just wish there were more of them.
Happy Mother's Day.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Searching For My Thing
The remainder of my French Quarter Festival was extremely pleasant. Saw artists I had never seen, got some sun, ate some good food, even had a couple of Pat O'Briens Hurricanes.
Some standouts of the weekend....music-wise: the previously mentioned Lillian Boutte' and Los Hombres Calientes, plus Gal Holiday and the Honky Tonk Revue (awesome rockabilly style), Paul Sanchez & the Rolling Road Show (damn! Debbie Davis can sing!), The Brass-a-holics, The Renard Poche' Band (damn! Leslie Smith can sing!), and Los Po-Boy-Citos (just plain fun).....food-wise: (my yearly tradition of) beef brisket topped with a sinus clearing horseradish sauce from Tujague's, beef tenderloin with mac & cheese from Crazy Johnnie's, pulled pork sammich from The Joint, roast beef po' boy from Boucherie, and strawberry shortcake from Begue's .
It's hard to beat spending a leisurely weekend by the river with a friendly, music loving crowd eating, drinking, and watching musicians who love what they do. That crowd is such a BIG part of my Fest. I will always find humans to be fascinating creatures and there is not a better place for people watching than FQF. There are happy people everywhere. The Brass Band Stage is the biggest party. People from all walks of life come together for the funky groove. You will see kids, old people, white, black, women in tight-tight shorts, guys in hawaiian shirts, and always lots of gold teeth. It's all there. Everyone you can think of dancing, sweating, and smiling blissfully. Another happy group I witnessed was during a jam band set that I happened to catch. Not really my kind of music but they were funky enough and in the end they kind of converted me by doing the "old school" song "No Parking on the Dance Floor" by Midnight Star. I couldn't take my eyes off the group of hippie kids squirming, jerking, and flailing to the music. There was a hula hoop, a crystal ball, body glitter, unshaved legs & pits, dreadlocks, and B.O. aplenty! It was like watching a strange hybrid of the Manson Family and Austin Powers - creepy and funny at the same time. But hey, they were having a good time and weren't hurting anyone (other than the B.O.). To me, our differences make life interesting.
I was sad to see it all end and to say it was difficult going back to work is an understatement. I like my job and the people I work with but I've been feeling restless lately. Feeling the need to be creative. Feeling like I haven't quite found my "thing" yet. This is something I want to figure out. I remember when, after much indecision, I settled on accounting as a major in college (just to get it over with). My cousin Sherrie said to me, I can't believe you are majoring in accounting, I thought for sure you'd do something artistic." I didn't have an answer for that at the time but now, looking back, I see what she meant. When I was a kid I was the first one to sing into the hair brush and dance in front of the fireplace at family functions. I also had no problem singing and dancing in the doorway of the bar downstairs from our apartment for the old men who put quarters in the jukebox. My favorite song was "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" by Jim Croce and I usually got a Slim Jim or a brown bottle of Birch Beer after my performance. Payment enough. But as I grew older I became riddled with the insecurities that plague most adolescents. I refused the spotlight in the high school choir....the fear of that large crowd overrode any small confidence I may have had in my abilities. And yet, I still loved the thought of singing in a band. I also always enjoyed English, literature, and writing but doubted that I had any particular talent for it. And besides, what was I going to do with an English degree? Teach? That involved being in the spotlight and wasn't for me. I didn't even consider that there were other possibilities. The fear won out. It's sad when you realize that you let self-doubt prevent you from doing something that you might have loved and enjoyed doing. I settled on accounting because it was "practical" and I will always be disappointed that I let myself do that. It went against my natural way of being. Practical is not me. But as they say, you can't rewrite history. The least I can say is that with age came enough wisdom for me to be comfortable being me. I found a place that I love, and since I'm still alive and kickin' there's always the possibility that I will find my "thing".
Some standouts of the weekend....music-wise: the previously mentioned Lillian Boutte' and Los Hombres Calientes, plus Gal Holiday and the Honky Tonk Revue (awesome rockabilly style), Paul Sanchez & the Rolling Road Show (damn! Debbie Davis can sing!), The Brass-a-holics, The Renard Poche' Band (damn! Leslie Smith can sing!), and Los Po-Boy-Citos (just plain fun).....food-wise: (my yearly tradition of) beef brisket topped with a sinus clearing horseradish sauce from Tujague's, beef tenderloin with mac & cheese from Crazy Johnnie's, pulled pork sammich from The Joint, roast beef po' boy from Boucherie, and strawberry shortcake from Begue's .
It's hard to beat spending a leisurely weekend by the river with a friendly, music loving crowd eating, drinking, and watching musicians who love what they do. That crowd is such a BIG part of my Fest. I will always find humans to be fascinating creatures and there is not a better place for people watching than FQF. There are happy people everywhere. The Brass Band Stage is the biggest party. People from all walks of life come together for the funky groove. You will see kids, old people, white, black, women in tight-tight shorts, guys in hawaiian shirts, and always lots of gold teeth. It's all there. Everyone you can think of dancing, sweating, and smiling blissfully. Another happy group I witnessed was during a jam band set that I happened to catch. Not really my kind of music but they were funky enough and in the end they kind of converted me by doing the "old school" song "No Parking on the Dance Floor" by Midnight Star. I couldn't take my eyes off the group of hippie kids squirming, jerking, and flailing to the music. There was a hula hoop, a crystal ball, body glitter, unshaved legs & pits, dreadlocks, and B.O. aplenty! It was like watching a strange hybrid of the Manson Family and Austin Powers - creepy and funny at the same time. But hey, they were having a good time and weren't hurting anyone (other than the B.O.). To me, our differences make life interesting.
I was sad to see it all end and to say it was difficult going back to work is an understatement. I like my job and the people I work with but I've been feeling restless lately. Feeling the need to be creative. Feeling like I haven't quite found my "thing" yet. This is something I want to figure out. I remember when, after much indecision, I settled on accounting as a major in college (just to get it over with). My cousin Sherrie said to me, I can't believe you are majoring in accounting, I thought for sure you'd do something artistic." I didn't have an answer for that at the time but now, looking back, I see what she meant. When I was a kid I was the first one to sing into the hair brush and dance in front of the fireplace at family functions. I also had no problem singing and dancing in the doorway of the bar downstairs from our apartment for the old men who put quarters in the jukebox. My favorite song was "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" by Jim Croce and I usually got a Slim Jim or a brown bottle of Birch Beer after my performance. Payment enough. But as I grew older I became riddled with the insecurities that plague most adolescents. I refused the spotlight in the high school choir....the fear of that large crowd overrode any small confidence I may have had in my abilities. And yet, I still loved the thought of singing in a band. I also always enjoyed English, literature, and writing but doubted that I had any particular talent for it. And besides, what was I going to do with an English degree? Teach? That involved being in the spotlight and wasn't for me. I didn't even consider that there were other possibilities. The fear won out. It's sad when you realize that you let self-doubt prevent you from doing something that you might have loved and enjoyed doing. I settled on accounting because it was "practical" and I will always be disappointed that I let myself do that. It went against my natural way of being. Practical is not me. But as they say, you can't rewrite history. The least I can say is that with age came enough wisdom for me to be comfortable being me. I found a place that I love, and since I'm still alive and kickin' there's always the possibility that I will find my "thing".
Friday, April 8, 2011
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of My Year
French Quarter Festival is here and, I have to say, it couldn't have come at a better time. My past couple of weeks have been trying, starting with a hellacious bout of food poisoning from a "diner", progressing on to a general funk in which I wanted to sleep 18 hours a day, and finishing off with a "misunderstanding" with our landlord that has since been resolved. Oh, and I turned 41. But, enough of that shit, it's festival time! I've mentioned previously that FQF is my favorite event in New Orleans and this is why......the weather in early April is gorgeous; there is an abundance of food, drink, & music and it's ALL LOCAL; the crowd is made up of diverse, music loving people; the price of admission? FREE! And such a grand time that I tolerate going to the can in a Port-o-Potty. (Always carry an extra roll of TP.) This year, for the first time, the festival has added an extra day as a gift to locals who would rather avoid the weekend crowds, which have grown enormously over the years. I am filled with gratitude for this because I truly enjoyed my day yesterday! Actually, my musical weekend kicked off on Wednesday evening when I found out that The Soul Rebels Brass Band and Troy "Trombone Shorty" Andrews were auspiciously scheduled for the, after work, "Wednesday at the Square" show. The square being Lafayette Square on St. Charles Ave. in the CBD. For those acts I was more than willing to venture across Canal St. I hadn't seen The Soul Rebels in many years and they put on a dynamic, fun show. Troy & Co. were fabulous, as usual, and I don't know how much longer he will be able to play The Square. It soon won't be able to contain the crowd he draws. Called it an early night after the show in order to be up bright and early on Thursday. And.........
My Thursday started out with a massage followed by a pedicure. A lunchtime visit to Lester (boyfriend) at the Gazebo Cafe. Home for a half hour nap, gathered belongings, sunscreen application, made my way to the Mississippi. At this time I'd like to point out that the music is not the only entertainment available at a New Orleans festival......there is also the crowd. You will see quite the array of people. All ages, shapes, sizes, and colors in one place feelin' the groove and doin' their thang. The long skirt wearing, barefoot, twirling, hippie girl; the rhythm lacking, dancing white dude; the 75 year old lady on her "Rascal" bobbin' her head; the guy in the extremely tight seersucker pants with the round "dip" canister stuffed in the back pocket, taking photos....the variety is inspiring. As is the music. There is something for everyone. The first set I saw was Lillian Boutte', diminutive with a roaring voice, backed by a fantastic band with lots of familiar faces. Second set was Los Hombres Calientes, the project of Bill Summers and Irvin Mayfield - dynamic! My first time seeing them and I'm so glad I did. I then wandered a bit to pass by the Brass Band Stage and the One Mind Brass Band was sounding hot. I also realized that I didn't have any festival food. But it was time to end my day of fun. Normal routine (my overflowing clothes hamper) called. So, as I made my way slowly home through the French Quarter I decided that I wasn't going to ruin a perfect day by doing laundry AND cooking. Po' boys from (FQ institution) Verti Marte were in order.
And, just think, I get to do it all again today.
My Thursday started out with a massage followed by a pedicure. A lunchtime visit to Lester (boyfriend) at the Gazebo Cafe. Home for a half hour nap, gathered belongings, sunscreen application, made my way to the Mississippi. At this time I'd like to point out that the music is not the only entertainment available at a New Orleans festival......there is also the crowd. You will see quite the array of people. All ages, shapes, sizes, and colors in one place feelin' the groove and doin' their thang. The long skirt wearing, barefoot, twirling, hippie girl; the rhythm lacking, dancing white dude; the 75 year old lady on her "Rascal" bobbin' her head; the guy in the extremely tight seersucker pants with the round "dip" canister stuffed in the back pocket, taking photos....the variety is inspiring. As is the music. There is something for everyone. The first set I saw was Lillian Boutte', diminutive with a roaring voice, backed by a fantastic band with lots of familiar faces. Second set was Los Hombres Calientes, the project of Bill Summers and Irvin Mayfield - dynamic! My first time seeing them and I'm so glad I did. I then wandered a bit to pass by the Brass Band Stage and the One Mind Brass Band was sounding hot. I also realized that I didn't have any festival food. But it was time to end my day of fun. Normal routine (my overflowing clothes hamper) called. So, as I made my way slowly home through the French Quarter I decided that I wasn't going to ruin a perfect day by doing laundry AND cooking. Po' boys from (FQ institution) Verti Marte were in order.
And, just think, I get to do it all again today.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Something's Missing
Pork roll, egg, and cheese. On a round roll (usually buttered). With ketchup. If you're from NJ, you know what I'm talking about. One of the greeziest, high calorie, fat laden breakfast sammiches around. And simply divine. I'm not going to go into what, exactly, pork roll is. Because honestly, I don't know what's in it. And I don't care. I'll just say it's mainly a breakfast meat, it's good, and I can't get it in New Orleans.
I live in a city that is known worldwide for its food and, even though I'm not a seafood eater, you can tell just by looking at me that I don't often miss a meal. But sometimes you just want what you grew up with. There are very few things that I miss about my former home....my parents, occasionally (I'm kidding!), my BFF, the ocean, and certain food items. Pork roll being one, but I'd say that the biggest food void is pizza. For the most part, the pizza in New Orleans is an abomination. Some more edible than others, but not good. To give you an idea of how much I miss NJ pizza: On my last visit I took a picture of a pie with mushrooms that now serves as the desktop background on my laptop. I look at it with longing every day and want to put my face in the cheesy, sloppy, goodness of it. There is one place down here that comes close to the stuff I grew up with and that's Venezia on Carrollton Ave. But I hardly get up that way anymore. Truthfully, Italian food in general is lacking here. A lot of the Italian places are not owned by Italians. The red sauce is usually sweet, they make calzones without ricotta cheese, and I don't think I've ever found a decent chicken marsala besides the one that comes out of my own kitchen. The same goes for meatballs. I can't abide frozen meatballs. Thankfully, a new place opened in the CBD called Red Gravy (and it's not sweet!) where the owner feels the same way. Guess what? She's from NJ. I've become addicted to the meatball parm sammich over there and it saves me from having to make meatballs and sauce every time I crave them.
My list of missed NJ favorites is long - DeLorenzo's pizza, Chicken Valentino @ The Farnsworth House (their ricotta cheesecake too!), Rosario's calzone, a good cheesesteak from anywhere, Pete's Pizza @ Columbus Market, fine Italian dining in the Chambersburg section of Trenton. But I've developed some favorites here too - the stuffed chicken or chicken parm @ Adolfo's, the mushroom cheeseburger @ Port of Call, the panne'd chicken w/ fettuccine alfredo @ Coop's, the brisket w/ horseradish sauce from Tujague's served in the setting of French Quarter Festival. The one difference between the two lists is that there is a nostalgic component to the NJ list. I have some great memories that were created with friends and family while dining. I miss the dinners with a group of my girlfriends, the impromptu cocktails and dinners at The Farnsworth House, Thursday night "steak nights" and cocktails with my BFF Liz at Eddie's. I miss the female connections. I don't really have that in New Orleans. But what I do have is the luxury of taking my meals in an atmosphere that I wouldn't trade for the world. I am surrounded by beauty here, some of it unconventional and decaying, and while it may be lonely at times, I feel incredibly free and fortunate.
Now, if I could only get them to open a DeLorenzo's down here.........
I live in a city that is known worldwide for its food and, even though I'm not a seafood eater, you can tell just by looking at me that I don't often miss a meal. But sometimes you just want what you grew up with. There are very few things that I miss about my former home....my parents, occasionally (I'm kidding!), my BFF, the ocean, and certain food items. Pork roll being one, but I'd say that the biggest food void is pizza. For the most part, the pizza in New Orleans is an abomination. Some more edible than others, but not good. To give you an idea of how much I miss NJ pizza: On my last visit I took a picture of a pie with mushrooms that now serves as the desktop background on my laptop. I look at it with longing every day and want to put my face in the cheesy, sloppy, goodness of it. There is one place down here that comes close to the stuff I grew up with and that's Venezia on Carrollton Ave. But I hardly get up that way anymore. Truthfully, Italian food in general is lacking here. A lot of the Italian places are not owned by Italians. The red sauce is usually sweet, they make calzones without ricotta cheese, and I don't think I've ever found a decent chicken marsala besides the one that comes out of my own kitchen. The same goes for meatballs. I can't abide frozen meatballs. Thankfully, a new place opened in the CBD called Red Gravy (and it's not sweet!) where the owner feels the same way. Guess what? She's from NJ. I've become addicted to the meatball parm sammich over there and it saves me from having to make meatballs and sauce every time I crave them.
My list of missed NJ favorites is long - DeLorenzo's pizza, Chicken Valentino @ The Farnsworth House (their ricotta cheesecake too!), Rosario's calzone, a good cheesesteak from anywhere, Pete's Pizza @ Columbus Market, fine Italian dining in the Chambersburg section of Trenton. But I've developed some favorites here too - the stuffed chicken or chicken parm @ Adolfo's, the mushroom cheeseburger @ Port of Call, the panne'd chicken w/ fettuccine alfredo @ Coop's, the brisket w/ horseradish sauce from Tujague's served in the setting of French Quarter Festival. The one difference between the two lists is that there is a nostalgic component to the NJ list. I have some great memories that were created with friends and family while dining. I miss the dinners with a group of my girlfriends, the impromptu cocktails and dinners at The Farnsworth House, Thursday night "steak nights" and cocktails with my BFF Liz at Eddie's. I miss the female connections. I don't really have that in New Orleans. But what I do have is the luxury of taking my meals in an atmosphere that I wouldn't trade for the world. I am surrounded by beauty here, some of it unconventional and decaying, and while it may be lonely at times, I feel incredibly free and fortunate.
Now, if I could only get them to open a DeLorenzo's down here.........
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Top O' The Mornin' To Ye
There was a time when my friends and I treated St. Patrick's Day as if it were a religious holiday and were very serious about its observance. It called for taking a half day from work and starting the festivities over lunch at one of the little bars that we frequented around the corner. The party then, inevitably, moved to the bar called Tir Na Nog on Hamilton Avenue in Trenton. If St. Patrick's fell on a Saturday, the day started much earlier and breakfast at a diner would be substituted for the lunch. The day always began well but ended, well.....drunk. After Tir Na Nog, if anyone was sober enough, one of the local cover bands was usually playing at one of our other watering holes or we would just stop by Eddie's (our neighborhood corner bar) for "one more". Normally, there wasn't much coherance after Tir Na Nog and we called it a night. I have some fond memories of those days, others, not so fond. But I wouldn't trade 'em. Today on St. Patrick's Day I will be going to work and probably just coming home right after. Different from the old days but equally exhausting. Though not having a hangover tomorrow will be a plus. Who knows, though? I could always end up going out, there's always something to do here and there will be plenty of St. Patrick celebrations. The parades in the French Quarter were this past weekend, but Pat O'Brien's (home of the hurricane) and Molly's at the Market will be celebrating along with the hundreds of other bars. And in the section of the city named "The Irish Channel" two rival bars will be holding their annual block party. If I decide to join the party this evening, it won't be anything strenuous. Probably just head over to Frenchmen St. to hear some music, depends on the crowds.
Last weekend, after getting through my first Mardi Gras living in the French Quarter, I was so looking forward to basking in the peace and quiet and just chillin' at the apartment with the doors open and a good book. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. First, I got a text from our roommate, Bryan, telling me that two of his friends surprised him and are on their way to New Orleans and will arrive in the evening. Crap. Then I look outside and see the neighbors from the third floor setting up a table in the courtyard and spreading newspaper on it. That means one thing in New Orleans.......crawfish boil. Crap, again. I am not a fan of seafood of any kind and the steamy scent from boiling crawfish will make me gag, (my BFF, Liz can confirm this) so my mind is quickly trying to devise a "plan B" for the day but is interrupted by the loud, lovely sounds of death metal. Blasting in the courtyard. Crawfish, a crowd of people, AND death metal. Definitely not what I had in mind for my day. Luckily, my buddy Mike was home and I went over to his place. Decided to go eat dinner around the corner at La Peniche....mediocre, at best. We used to go there all the time pre-Katrina and the food was great diner-type food served by sassy, gay waiters. This time it was cold, just o.k. food served by a plain ol' woman. Can't win 'em all, I guess. All in all, it was a good outing. I got to see Lois (our dog that we used to share when we were roommates), hang with Mike, and by the time I got home the party was over. Then Bryan arrived with his guests......*sigh*.
This is why I'm on the fence about going out tonight. I've been craving some peace and quiet and going out on St. Patrick's evening isn't going to provide that. Not by a long shot. But we'll see. I have a four day weekend ahead of me and can have my solitude then. Maybe.
Last weekend, after getting through my first Mardi Gras living in the French Quarter, I was so looking forward to basking in the peace and quiet and just chillin' at the apartment with the doors open and a good book. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. First, I got a text from our roommate, Bryan, telling me that two of his friends surprised him and are on their way to New Orleans and will arrive in the evening. Crap. Then I look outside and see the neighbors from the third floor setting up a table in the courtyard and spreading newspaper on it. That means one thing in New Orleans.......crawfish boil. Crap, again. I am not a fan of seafood of any kind and the steamy scent from boiling crawfish will make me gag, (my BFF, Liz can confirm this) so my mind is quickly trying to devise a "plan B" for the day but is interrupted by the loud, lovely sounds of death metal. Blasting in the courtyard. Crawfish, a crowd of people, AND death metal. Definitely not what I had in mind for my day. Luckily, my buddy Mike was home and I went over to his place. Decided to go eat dinner around the corner at La Peniche....mediocre, at best. We used to go there all the time pre-Katrina and the food was great diner-type food served by sassy, gay waiters. This time it was cold, just o.k. food served by a plain ol' woman. Can't win 'em all, I guess. All in all, it was a good outing. I got to see Lois (our dog that we used to share when we were roommates), hang with Mike, and by the time I got home the party was over. Then Bryan arrived with his guests......*sigh*.
This is why I'm on the fence about going out tonight. I've been craving some peace and quiet and going out on St. Patrick's evening isn't going to provide that. Not by a long shot. But we'll see. I have a four day weekend ahead of me and can have my solitude then. Maybe.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Unconditional Love
Mardi Gras is over and I'm glad. There I said it. I tried to give it a chance but have figured out that I just don't like it. I will say that I do enjoy Mardi Gras Day (Fat Tuesday) which has a great local vibe and so many beautiful costumes (I envy the creativity of some people!) but the weekend leading up to the day is pretty awful. During that weekend the city is crowded with people who's main goal is to see how much they can drink and still stay alive. Not all who participate in Mardi Gras are of that mentality, I hear there is a large family atmosphere at the parades, but in the French Quarter drunkenness seems to be the goal. The idiocy is tiresome. And it wears on you. Now, I'm not saying that I never drink, but I can say that I drink MUCH less than I used to. And when I do get drunk I annoy myself at times, so I'm certainly not going to enjoy a city full of out of control drunks. With that being said, it only happens once a year and I can always choose to spend it in the house watching movies, as I have before, while staying open to the possibility of a one of a kind experience if it is offered. Mardi Gras is great for the city (financially) and it ain't goin' anywhere. An easy thing to accept in a city that offers you so much more.
Further thoughts on drinking.........I guess I've grown out of it to an extent or maybe I'm just getting old but I don't see the allure of not being able to "get right" for two solid days after tying one on. Again, not saying that it doesn't happen, just fewer times and far between. And when it does happen, I try to annoy as few people as possible with my antics and just go to bed when I need to. It didnt used to be like this, drinking was the life of the party and I enjoyed doing it. It was no problem drinking on consecutive nights of the week, I actually wanted to! Now, if I overdo it I can't even THINK about alcohol the next day. I don't love it like I used to. But there are just some afternoons when walking through The Quarter, passing the open door of a barroom, that smell just hits you....that perfect combination of stale beer, booze, and cigarettes that makes you want to just drop everything and grab a stool. I usually can't do this, but the want is still there. I prefer afternoon drinking in grittier bars where your company is usually older "gentlemen" chain smoking and drinking shots with beer chasers, and something like "Bonanza" is on the tv. A small neighborhood bar offers a sort of escape from the daily grind. But then again, can also become part of the daily grind. And this is what always happens for me, that line is always there. I enjoy the atmosphere of certain bars....the darkness, the characters, the sound of the ice in the glass, the camaraderie, the swirls of smoke, the jukebox. But I sometimes don't enjoy the results....the hangover, the regrets, the unhealthiness of it all, the questions - "Did I make an ass out of myself?" was always popular, the losses - money, keys, credit card, license, phone. In most cases, for me, the bad outweighs the good and I don't "get loaded" nearly as often as I used to. But there are some days in The Quarter when the lure is too strong and I gotta give in. I just prepare myself for the regrets. And the shame. Because the shame is there, though not always warranted. I find that in New Orleans, shame is mostly in your mind. Because New Orleans will always accept and forgive you. She loves you unconditionally.
Further thoughts on drinking.........I guess I've grown out of it to an extent or maybe I'm just getting old but I don't see the allure of not being able to "get right" for two solid days after tying one on. Again, not saying that it doesn't happen, just fewer times and far between. And when it does happen, I try to annoy as few people as possible with my antics and just go to bed when I need to. It didnt used to be like this, drinking was the life of the party and I enjoyed doing it. It was no problem drinking on consecutive nights of the week, I actually wanted to! Now, if I overdo it I can't even THINK about alcohol the next day. I don't love it like I used to. But there are just some afternoons when walking through The Quarter, passing the open door of a barroom, that smell just hits you....that perfect combination of stale beer, booze, and cigarettes that makes you want to just drop everything and grab a stool. I usually can't do this, but the want is still there. I prefer afternoon drinking in grittier bars where your company is usually older "gentlemen" chain smoking and drinking shots with beer chasers, and something like "Bonanza" is on the tv. A small neighborhood bar offers a sort of escape from the daily grind. But then again, can also become part of the daily grind. And this is what always happens for me, that line is always there. I enjoy the atmosphere of certain bars....the darkness, the characters, the sound of the ice in the glass, the camaraderie, the swirls of smoke, the jukebox. But I sometimes don't enjoy the results....the hangover, the regrets, the unhealthiness of it all, the questions - "Did I make an ass out of myself?" was always popular, the losses - money, keys, credit card, license, phone. In most cases, for me, the bad outweighs the good and I don't "get loaded" nearly as often as I used to. But there are some days in The Quarter when the lure is too strong and I gotta give in. I just prepare myself for the regrets. And the shame. Because the shame is there, though not always warranted. I find that in New Orleans, shame is mostly in your mind. Because New Orleans will always accept and forgive you. She loves you unconditionally.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Let's Try This Again......
Just got my computer back this evening after the hard drive took a crap around 10 days ago. I'm less than enthused about Dell right now but am happy to get back into the swing of things. And things are definitely swingin' in New Orleans right now...."Oh yes, it's Carnival time, and everybody's havin' fun". The immortal words of Al Johnson. I believe I mentioned previously that I have never been a fan of Mardi Gras and I think a big part of that is that I just don't like parades. Especially ones where you're packed in like sardines with people who have been drinking since 7am and where you're constantly being stepped on or jostled by those same people while they scream at enormous floats, as they go by, for worthless plastic beads. Not my idea of a good time. In all of my years of living here, I have gone to only one of the large parades. It was when James Gandolfini, aka Tony Soprano, was the "king" of the Bacchus Parade. A friend of mine was going and suggested that I meet him Uptown. I wasn't doing anything and figured it would be a hoot to see Gandolfini dressed in one of those ridiculous costumes. Well, it was a big pain in the ass getting Uptown, we waited for hours in the crowd for the parade to come, saw Gandolfini for all of 10 seconds, and that was it. My friend wandered off with some girl and I was stuck with some other friends of his, a couple whom I just met, and knew it was time to end my night when the woman started hitting on me. I called my buddy Mike and begged him to come get me. Christ, maybe that experience has tainted my attitude toward the parades but I feel better sticking with my own kind, downtown, at the small parades. Two of those being Krewe du Vieux and Barkus. Krewe du Viuex is a satire of the larger parades and there is always raunch involved. Barkus is the dog parade. This year I went out to both of these parades but saw neither of them. It's like that sometimes around here. On the night of Krewe du Vieux, I headed in the direction of Frenchmen St. but stopped at the Balcony Music Club to see a friend who was sitting in with a band there. Ended up just staying there people watching and listening to the music. Barkus was this past Sunday afternoon and I decided to take Pancho out to experience the crowds to try to get him a little more socialized. We took a nice walk and first stopped at Ragin' Daisy, a funky, sparkly little shop in the Quarter. It was through the girls at Ragin' Daisy that we came to know about Pancho so I wanted to take him over to meet them, and just across the street from the shop happened to be Harry's Corner Bar. Perfect. Since Pancho didn't seem to be very enthused about the parade, we decided to just skip it and stay at Harry's. It was a beautiful afternoon, there were chairs outside and we were still able to see costumed dogs and their people. Hell, it was better than going to the parade....I was able to sit with the dog in my lap and a drink in my hand and there wasn't any danger of having my drink knocked onto my shirt or stepping in poop. Not a bad way to kill a few hours. I haven't decided, yet, if I will give one of the larger parades another shot this year. Honestly, I just find parades to be incredibly boring. But you never know, it just might be a fantastic experience waiting to happen. It's like that sometimes around here.
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