festivals galore

and where is everyone?  out there enjoying this fabulous weather.  I’ve been north several times in the past few months, to help my mom sort out old age.  not fun, but still fun, cause she’s open to many things.   mainly?  protecting her assets.

for me?  I’m just going through new changes, which all are good things!!  done with workin in the bar, and on to working in an art market.  finally.  it all comes forward.

so… if your here for festivals, make sure you go to the art market, located between the louisiana pizza kitchen, and el gato negro.  you’ll find some wonderful local artists and their work.

 

all because its mardiclaw time…..

I always have too much on my plate, and this season seems to be more than ever.  so many things art wise I can’t get to, but now I’m gearing up for a show in the french quarter.   I’ve done one before, but this time?  its actually a gallery show.

I’m excited, but not real happy at the cut they will be taking.   60 % of sales in this city, in galleries.   I wonder why artists work so hard, then give more than half the sale to someone else?   I mean, sure, if your work sells for 50 thousand a pop?  I guess you don’t care, but I’ve tried to stay super affordable, and had just decided to go up a bit with my prices.   on this one?  I’ll be going up, so someone else can profit from it.   Don’t be surprized if I’m so expensive, you can’t afford it.    The work I’m doing?  is Large Scale, and will be priced accordingly…

On another note?  I’m still currently at surrey’s uptown, and garden district.  Also showing at the hi ho lounge.

The womens krewe Skinz n Bonez, will be rolling in krewedelusion on february fourth, right behind krewe du vieux.  Then on feb 14th?  Valentine Tumble through the bywater and ninth ward.   Feb 19th in Okeanos parade, and on mardigras day?  various spots.

Other hangtimes for the bonez?  will be for muses, krewe d’etat, 610 stompers and chewbacchus, and a night down on lundigras, and up early for mardigras day.  If you’d like to be woke up by the bonez?  leave a message here, and we’ll stop by!

see ya out there!

skinz n bonez

a new womens krewe is starting up, a drum krewe, for Wildman John of the Wild Tchoupatoulas.  right now its looking 45 strong.  thats quite a few women.  what we need is ten drummers, ten cowbells, and ten tamborines, to fill a void for wildman and queen.  we will be behind them this season for mardigras, and st josephs night.

all skeletons, a bit femme, and a bit bone gang…   I can’t wait to see how it turns out.  We’ll have honey teaching us to drum, and the girls from burning spear as well as the wildman himself.

each week we learn a new indian song, and drum style…  can’t wait for six ta nine social aid and pleasure club, our first outing…

to gras? or not to gras? it was never a question, its the answer

ya gotta love these late gras dates.  spring is upon us, and the temps are up, and the sun is out, and for once in five years?  I didn’t freeze during krewe du vieux.  rather, I sweated like mad, cause its been cold far too long in the crescent city!

I chose to roll in krewedelusion this year, for many reasons, even though I still love KDV, I went for delusion, because I do all the banners, work on the floats, and had five newbies with me.  two, first time mardigras, two, never rolled, all four?  never rolled, and I couldn’t get them in KDV.  so delusion it was…

It was a week of painting, paper mache’ and makeup.  glitter, spray paint, run here, run there, and all of it, made me smile more than ever.  It was a good change, since I get called to KDV, but never really get to do big stuff for them.  this was big.

AND because I had so many newbies with me, I felt a responsibility I hadn’t felt before.  To make sure THEY were safe, and understood throws, understood the cart, understood, not to drink too much, cause WHERE ya gonna go pee?  LOL  a million people are out here, and all going to the bathroom at the same time, so stick with a bottle, and stay away from lots of fluids, UNTIL, you make the turn back to frenchman street on the parade route.

Well, they kinda listened, but finally had to dart to the bathroom, and then missed the last part of the parade.  As I flew down decatur, with two others I’d recruited?  wow..  throwing beads as fast as I could…  blast!  Argeaux and Wildman and I, all racing to get those beads into the air…

This week things turn towards box of wine.  banners again, and flags for the Indians, and the last part of wildman johns flaming skeleton suit.  THAT is the one thing I must say I’m most proud of.  THAT INDIAN SUIT.

so catch me in the wee hours with the northside skull and bones gang, or catch me uptown with the wild tchoupatoulas, or catch me at the avenue pub.   but find me…  cause this mardigras?  the mardiclaw?  is in full swing.

point of nola return

I love it when friends come to town, and you get a chance to get out and enjoy nola like a tourist.  Lee and Pat come down every year for their wedding anniversary.  this year?  34 years.

We went to a couple spots I hadn’t taken em to…  Coops for dinner proved excellent, and they were completely in love with the atmosphere, and of course the food.  Like Pat said, how often do you see green goddess on a menu?  wow, and homemade too.  The marinated crab claws, the redfish menieure, panneed chicken, rabbit jambalaya.

On another evening we went to Drago’s, and had three dozen raw, three dozen charbroiled, and two plates of fleur de liis shrimp.  Then for the topper?  we went to sylvains for after dinner drinks.  WOW, that was fabulous.  Thats the real deal there, real cocktails done the way they should be.  fresh fresh fresh, and yummy!

We also went to surrey’s where I had the oyster BLT, which was out of this world, with onion rings that were spicy.  Kim had the montana plate, and lee and pat had the seafood omlette, with muenster cheese, shrimp, crab, etc…  yummy!

I also got out and enjoyed the bonoffs, and waylon thibideaux… my usual run down bourbon, doing the cajun circuit.  love to do the cajun circuit.  I never tire of the bands that I worked with when I first moved here.  The Old Opera House, and Papa Joes, always a hoot.

another day we found ourselves at the spotted cat, where we listened to ragtime, and another night with kermit ruffins.  I went to see the stooges, who were incredibly OFF.  I was a bit surprized, they’re all overblowin the instruments, and it was a bit too loud for my taste.   so we got outta there, and headed to kermit.  Kermit was great as always, and kermit also was the after party dj.  bigtime fun there.

Its times like these, that make me fall in love with new orleans all over again.  its just such a pleasure, to eat good food, drink good drinks, dance, party, sing, laugh, and above all?  enjoying the music.

 

Party like a Pyrate

april 14th through 17th.  A weekend of fun, with the people who live here.  Not to be confused with nolapyrateweek, the folks who don’t live here.

 

join us april 14th thru 17th.

party like a pyrate in new orleans

end of the year and WTF?

here it is,  the end of the year, and I leave town, and all kinds of  horrific stuff goes down.  first one being a neighbor murdered.   they had just moved here, and now gone.  gunned down in his home.

another group of friends were invaded just before I left, the kid came through the back door of their house.  A rape up the street, only no one knows about it, cause the victim?  she gunned down her assailant.  GOOD FOR HER!

there has been a rash of home invasions here in nola, and each one becomes more violent.   between those robbed, raped and tortured, and those who won’t talk to the press, or report it, or the press ignoring it, and the police acting like its not happening?  y’all aren’t helping this situation.

now jon is dead.  he and sara had just moved here with their dog.  nice folks, with jobs, and part of the new new orleans.  now gone.  he’s dead, and she’s probably going to hate new orleans forever, her memory only of a murdered boyfriend.

it sickens me how this community didn’t respond in the early part of these invasions.  it sickens me that the paper doesn’t report this  until someone is dead.  it sickens me to think that these two 16 year old monsters were walking around intimidating folks… for what?   life in prison?  a joyride of torture, and rape that ya thought was funny til the gun went off?

ya, thank god for that gun, cause thats what linked you to these crimes.   if your a nola resident, let city hall know, these monsters deserve to be tried as adults.  azzholes.

then the news that morwen’s other half, betts died.  very sad indeed.  they’ve been through so much.

then rhonda’s eddie died. another situation of suffering, and then gone.  a perfect relationship gone, forever a memory.

then came the news that there was a huge warehouse fire, and 8 kids died.  two dogs too.  I knew one of them, but I don’t know yet, if I knew more.  they simply cannot identify the bodies.  they died of monoxide poisening.  horrific.  made the nationwide news.  stirring up a controversy of “squatters” or “homeless”, gutter punks, or kids, good or bad or…..???

jesus.  the city has gone crazy.  turns out one of the kids was a friends daughter, who lived in the irish channel, and just didn’t come home that night, and chose to party with the kids in the warehouse.  now gone, and my friend cher is trying to organize a way to help them pay for burial costs.

there are many sides to the final story of the warehouse.

first and foremost, are these one in the same kids who panhandle every day?

are they the same ones who taunt you, because they won’t go get a job?

should we feel sorry for them?

yes to all three above.

but not necessarily the same for all involved.  the list of those who are gutter, and those who aren’t?  well, there’s a fine line there, somewhere.  In the meantime?  8 people and two dogs are dead.

and yes, one of them, wasn’t always that nice to me, cause I don’t wear the uniform they wear.  only saying hello because I would initiate it, and they were friends of friends of mine.  I’m not hateful towards this person, but I don’t understand WHY you would light a fire inside a building.

what a  shame.  I’ll say it, a  shame.  what kind of common sense was that?   I guess we’ll never know, cause now everyone is dead.

and all this on the heels of a neighborhood pissed off at the gutter punks, pissed off at those who rail against them, and those like me, who are tired of people WHO CAN’T talk it out!

new orleans doesn’t need this.  not now, not ever.  it is the classic story of crime, rape, torture, murder, fire, stupidity, and a city that doesn’t respond until someone is dead.

wake  up people.

life is short.  respect it, and respect others.

black and gold reign a repost

this repost, is from last years supabeauxl, saints win…  since we’re getting closer to a possible two dat, I thought I’d repost it.

I knew back a few weeks, when I decided to paint a giant Drew Brees, that something was different. Maybe it was sitting there watching each game, each week, being on the computer and sharing the plays with friends, or the entire city showing their faith, but I knew then, what I see now… A Black and Gold Supabeauxl. From that first game after katrina that held us all together, to last nights victory, we’ve come from great tragedy to a great victory. The dome represents so many horrific things, right down to the fact that they painted it white shortly after, so as to not remind us of “Katrina”. I had friends at the dome that fateful night, and the stories were shameful. The people inside, and those at the convention center, all “Entertainment” for an America that sat and watched helpless as this city drowned. We were a tragedy unfolding, and becoming ONE giant reality TV show gone REAL. The Emotions of that first home game with U2 and green day seemed to set the tone for the victory we would wait four years for. A Victory that each one of us earned, even though sometimes, it was on a couch with a beer in hand. Victory was KEY, to a city that has been struggling to move forward. Drew Brees coming to the game, to represent and help us rebuild, not only our Faith, but our team. That last game? When fans showed at the Superdome with family members ashes, and more… The time had come. Fans representin the black and gold, and the decibles inside reflected the amount of pride and energy that WHO DAT fans have. Team members couldn’t hear each other, and the black and gold grew louder. Jokes with locals revolved around the fact that it was mardi gras, and we were all trained to scream for beads, therefore, screaming for a black and gold supabeauxl, had just crashed into the greatest gras since Katrina. I remember being broken down in a car, somewhere in Alabama, driving back from a wedding we thought we’d never go to, but did,,,, once forced to leave a drowned city. Car broken down, and a new friend arriving to bring us to his house, while we waited for a ride back. He turned on that game, and I became a puddle of tears seeing the Saints on the field, while we all were roaming the country for someplace not only to live, but to SEE that game. Then the return to the dome, and U2, green day, september ending, and the beginning of the mass return to New Orleans herself. Coming home to no electricity, no heat, no hot water, and yet, proud to be home. Even if it meant racing from one red cross station to another for ice, one salvation army truck after another, or driving long distances to make groceries, or dealing with a forced curfew, that you NEVER thought possible in a city once 24/7. Katrina may have crushed us on television sets, but back home, we were finally rising up, and returning…. NO MATTER WHAT. It became evident that something was happening. That Gras had no brass bands until we got to muses… and babylon and chaos… that night the music returned, and that night a white float passed by with no riders… symbolizing all those lost during that fateful night. The playing cards I scored that night spoke of all the politicians who had turned their backs on us, and left us to drown. An Entire country that saw us as less than human, like animals caged and set free to pillage a city that was left behind. NOT ONE GOOD story that happened, was put on tv to linger as long as the stories of looting, and shooting. AND as someone who DID stay and walk around, my anger inside was turning to rage. A nation that sat glued to a television set watching a third world country go through a MAN MADE disaster… (yes thats right, the levee failures) and a nation making social commentary on the fact that THEY didn’t think we should EVEN HAVE A GRAS! Well, I think that southern comfort billboard said it all…. NOTHING STOPS MARDI GRAS…. NOTHING. We were all returning, home or no home, to bond as new orleanians at the mardi gras. Some for the first time since the storm. And now, the Black and Gold Mardi Gras begins… From what I saw out and about last night? This will be a gras to remember. One filled with as much Joy as that first one after katrina. People were in their cars headed to the french quarter last night… the entire gulf coast just took a deep collective sigh, and felt that release of grief, that relief of pride and glory, KNOWING that last nights television airing of the supabeauxl, was now showing america something heroic, and not a tragedy. That fateful day, that brought us to our knees, was forever changed by one Drew Brees…. I can honestly say that I’ve never felt such emotion during a football game. We had a few who hadn’t seen a supabeauxl game, we had a few who knew nothing of the game, we had some who had a hard time watching because they had been such lifelong fans, and then there were those in the room so confident that they just smiled during those first few moments where we were behind. Texts poured in from friends all over the country at the beginning of this game… a nationwide WHO DAT NATION rose to the occasion…. I mean, who doesn’t like to see the Underdog win? . I laughed at all the music that has risen up just FOR this occasion. WHO DATS everywhere were joyful, and we were ALL IN THAT NUMBER. We were all marching in at that kickoff… I knew a voodoo priest who had blessed them, I knew fans with parents ashes at that game, I knew there were voodoo dolls with pins waiting to come out, I heard about the citywide prayer vigil, I knew that this religious city would bring out all the spirits, and those long gone, would be standing over us, and I knew it was going to be a victory. The Spirits, the Sinners, and all the Saints, would make sure that the black and gold were no longer “Ain’ts”. Knew the second half would be when we made it OUR game. And there it was. the entire room rose up, and the city with it. The deafening sound of victory in New Orleans was now rising, and we were there. I ran out the house with friends into the street… Cars were going by playing get crunk! Standing there in the middle of the street in the cold? was something I’ll remember for a lifetime. You could hear bourbon street, you could hear the neighborhood, and car horns, fireworks, who dats everywhere windows flew up and yelling WHO DAT WHO DAT WHO DAT WHO DAT… It was almost like a Dr Seuss dream… all the cindy lou who dats were out the BOX! I even got a text “WHO DA FUCK DAT”, and it was like the WHO DAT that went around the world.!! I know for the next six months the “WHO DAT” will be the common greeting. I know that come tuesday, I will see history… the parade that we have waited for, will come out of the DOME SWEET DOME, and roll through this great city… a sea of black and gold, and JOY… sheer JOY. Looking about the room at that victorious moment? TEARS streaming, TEARS flowing… laughter, tears, joy and more… Then seeing all the who dats in Miami, refusing to leave the stadium? BIG LAUGHTER all around. When I got home later? They were still sitting there WAITING for their team… I ate so much food yesterday, because of the anxiety, because of all the energy I was expending just watching… waiting for it.. I felt I had played that game by the time it was over, I was exhausted. I got to watch it with some very close friends too, which made it even better… Then the texts poured in again from all over the country. WHO FUCKIN DAT, seemed to be the resounding who dat pouring forth… The walk to the quarter, staring at that giant parking lot of fans, flags, screams, horns, high fives, sheer joy, and more… the party had officially started.. my thoughts of how great it would be, having america see us, ALL of us, showing our black and gold… WITH NO RIOTING… An incredible thing to even think of going to miami? I don’t think so. I’m proud fans went there, I’m even prouder that folks are heading here right now… knowing that this mardi gras is gonna be the shit. Knowing that the amount of money pouring out of the pockets, and into the city? YEAH U RITE! I can only believe what the quarter looks like RIGHT NOW. No one has slept, NO one… NO ONE WILL BE AT WORK TODAY… we have come back… we brought the hurricane brees to miami, we have a NEW MAYOR, and a NEW BEGINNING, and no more PITY PARTY… but a Pride that will glow for quite some time. LOMBARDI GRAS is ON!!! If you are thinking of coming here? get moving… this is history, and this time? I hope Americans who dissed us take note… We might be a third world country inside the US, but WE HERE… WE BACK… WE DAT! WHO DAT!

art vs grants and the carpetbaggers

since katrina a new arts district has come of age.

scadnola.

(st claude arts district)

the uptown crowd still has julia street, and the quarter has royal street.  we have, the bywater, and the affordable art / creativity / up and coming.

I really enjoyed seeing it move along.  so many galleries, and the second saturday art walk.  I can honestly say I’ve not only walked it, but have been a part of it.  Skull Club being one of my fave spots, not only to view art, but to listen to it as well.

this upcoming scadnola art walk will feature mardigras Indian art at the skull club.   a wonderful viewing of portraits, and the possibilities are endless when it comes to donating to these folks.   I myself, am working with wildman john on his suit this year.

I participated as well in the scabi biennial art walk.  sold quite a few pieces out there on the neutral ground that day.  It was nice to see the neighborhood hanging out and listening to great music.  My landlady got to see my neighbor perry’s band.  Southpaw sound agenda.  she’s been knowing perry since he was about eight years old.  She’s 86, and has seen this neighborhood go from a great avenue, to the white flight, to the hood, back to ground zero… where we’re at now.

I look at the galleries around me, and realize that some of them really do reflect whats goin on in nola.  others?  an expansion of an idea that doesn’t belong here.  case in point, we had the andy warhol society here in the busloads for a show several years ago.  then they were hijacked up the street at KKprojects.  a dinner party no one could afford.  Some were quite angered that they ended up there.  others?  could care less.

I personally viewed that as a smarmy east coast thing.  New Orleanians?  would’ve invited you in for a free dinner, of epic proportions.    Then again, I view the purchase of all those houses up the street with grant money, as a carpetbaggers dream.  Calling them art, calling them galleries, in the name of grant money, while you buy up an entire block of blight.   the price of change.

then there’s prospect one.  a great idea, fact is?  a fabulous month long event filled with all kinds of art, much like the one above.  I loved it, but I wasn’t too impressed with the notion that people/artists were here to tell the story of katrina, yet NONE of them were from here, or went through it.  That wasn’t right.  sure, they hired locals to install all of it, but the truth is?  no one can tell that story, unless you were actually here.

then there’s  the st roch project.  more grant money, and supposedly they’re doing this hood a favor, by putting in an art walk on the neutral ground.   Been hearing of this for about four years, and still see nothing.  What I have seen?  is my neighbors being proactive, and recycling stuff to make park benches.

the lady from the st roch project really pissed me off a while back.  I was out walking my dog, and I picked up her poop, and she walked right up to me and said “About time”.   I said about time for what?  would you like to wear this dog poo?  Cause I can arrange that.   I don’t know who you think you are?  but your comment should’ve been “thanks”  not challenging someone with a bag of s##t in their hands.

I am NOT one of these folks who lets my dog crap everywhere.  I clean it up, and if you had noticed, I’m carrying several plastic bags, for just such a task.  You should watch your back, new orleans doesn’t need people like you.

whenever she see’s me now?  she walks away.  and she should.

I get these letters about how all these great things are comin, but I’m still not seein anything.  As far as that “community garden” that was supposed to be a community center?  well, honey, I wouldn’t eat anything out of the ground here, unless  a soil test was done.  There is so much LEAD in the soil here, and lets not forget that great flood that layed us to waste about five years ago.

Someone’s house was torn down for that lot.  a lot that is just grass and a few flowers now.   the “community center” that we so badly needed, never happened, but stealing that lot did.

I hear all the time from people how all the blight should be torn down, and all the lots turned into gardens.   well thats not such a bad idea, BUT who owns these lots?  are some of them folks who never came home?  are they lots owned by elderly folks who can’t come home?  were they abandoned before or after?  what is the story behind all these blighted properties?  How many more are to become “art galleries”, or “artistic statements”.  I’m hearing now that the bank vault house, is now a great spot for gutter punks to sleep in.  WOW,  I can’t believe they took off the door, and left the house open.

hmmm…  can we call that blight?  can we tear that down?  who owns that?  how much grant money was put into that?

I’ve seen those houses on villere, go through so much change.  at one point, one of the houses had trees growing in it, and roots coming down from the ceiling.  another visit?  there were spikes through the house and roof, another time?  filled with junk, and another time?  painted like an american flag, with a statement on it saying… this is america?

villere is also a street of death.  so many killings.   so many kids killing kids, so many memorials, pictures, flags, and more.  its like the hood got pushed back to that street, and thats the line of murder.  gang house on the corner, and art galleries in the middle, and a few homes thrown in.  I’m surprized that no one has died there during the art walks.

I watch as the war on gutter punks escalates.  the high end folks want them gone, and the low end folks don’t care.  I don’t care,  I really don’t, but I also don’t like being taunted, by them, or anyone.  One minute I’m walking on decatur street, and they make some nasty comment to me, and the next? they’re asking me for money?  call your mom and dem.

What really gets me?  is most of this fight?  should’ve been discussed, rather than making a war,  to run a group of people out of a neighborhood.  I know that the times I’ve actually asked someone to move a car, or make a friend by discussing problems, rather than blaming?  has always turned out better, than the current fight goin on.

well, lets get back to those in the arts that are doing something positive.  L’art Noir, brought us andy warhol, scadnola, scabi, and the art walk.   Skull Club?  brings us live music, mixed with art, and a very happening scene.  Amie Davis has a new gallery I hear, must get out there this weekend coming up, and check it out.   I really miss Dave Bachli, who owned the XO gallery.  he did so much for the scene, and got it rolling.  Barristers?  fabulous.  galleria poboy?   yes indeed.

at any rate, I guess each scene has its ups and downs, but this holiday season?  get out there and buy local art.

I’m showing at surrey’s 4807 magazine street.   There’s also a toys for tots campaign and art market on the 11th of december from noon to six, with local artists and xmas gifts.  If you donate a new toy?  we give you art as a thank you.  hi ho lounge, 2239 st claude avenue.

the bywater art market will be closing soon.   I don’t know what to think of that, other than the person running it, actually denied people opportunities to show, claiming their art?  wasn’t art, so c’est la vie baby!   if you gotta judge people?  you don’t need to be in charge of any art market.   then theres a new art market at zeitgeist on oretha castle haley.  there’s always the french market, jackson square, and palmer park.  freret street market, and then the ninth wards  market for fresh veggies etc…

anyways, with so much art thriving in this city, I’m not surprised by the carpetbaggers.    I just don’t know how people live with themselves.  or sleep at night.

25 years we’re history

smokin gun

25 years from now?

New Orleans won’t be here.

So I’m told, and I don’t disagree, she is the modern day atlantis, and she is sinking. But to think of it in my lifetime? Before my own eyes? Makes me view things much different. So I guess that’s the point. A message to me.

All you see, all you hear, all you make happen, all you participate in? will be a part of some HUGE mystery many many many years from now. Just like we are currently still searching for Atlantis. What if it were a place that existed on its way out? What if it’s a place where the most creative, explosive, and brilliant people flocked to for some mysterious reason, before it was all swallowed up by the Ocean. (and our own undoing, that we don’t really know what WAS the undoing of Atlantis, to repeat it again and again, and …)

New Orleans. The dirty south. The jewel of the south, the grande old dame… the big easy, the big Uneasy, the city that CARE forgot. The little blue dot that could, the WHO DAT nation, the home of the SAINTS, the AIN’TS, and all the yats inbetween… New Orleans. N’awlins. Do you know what it means? Pimp the shrimp, nab the crab, no dumbo wit da gumbo, tip or be thirsty, banana’s foster on da roster, red beans and rice, oh so nice, file gumbo, my chat ah mee yo! Be nice or Leave!

Many one liners, yeah u rite!

I wake up this am, and its absolutely beautiful outside. Fall time can be hot or cold, humid or dry, you never know, but you do know, that the change of weather can bring on some serious fog, a mystical mist to transform the magical city.

Spent the evening with friends from out of town, on their way to the St Augustine Pirate Festival in florida. With them? A new book they’ve written called “The Book Of Pirates”, a guide to plundering and pillaging and other pursuits. It’s a very well done book, a kid would enjoy every illustration, every explanation, and my own copy is autographed to me, with a little extra love inside to boot. We spend a few hours in pirates alley, then we jump out onto bourbon. Its quiet tonite, a mid week lull, before a weekend of tourism begins.

It never ends in New Orleans, the constant ebb and flow of tourists, drunks, artists, writers, musicians, and conventioneers, leering at the “Adult Disneyland” before them. That feeling of Europeans, and Slaves, and Quadroon Balls, the rich, the poor, the Irish, The Haitians, The French, Carribbean, Cajun, and Native American Cultures clashing, and melding into a giant Gumbo pot that has something for everyone. Different Languages jump out in conversations, various camera’s going off constantly, and music flowing across the wind, sometimes its jazz, sometimes its Cajun, tonite? Cover bands.

Barkers taunt us to come inside, Strippers pose in doorways with smiles to invite, waiters claim their poboy is the best. We move on. For fun? Some mardigras beads with pirates on them. Then on to a three for one drink special, and turns out the bar of choice? Is a bartender I know.

We have a conversation about places we used to go to, and the bartender who works there now, and what a jerk he is. Tim tells me he almost kicked the guys ass one night, I reply, “Ya Shoulda”. Back to the street, back to pirates alley, on to the next bar. My friends aren’t in town for more than a night, so they can’t stay out too late, but that’s okay.

In the next bar we go to, I bump into an old friend I haven’t seen in so long. She’s a little older, and loves her wine. We catch up on old times, and my friends take off for their hostel, and trailers, and I catch a cab home. I smile, as its early, midnite, and I’m not too drunk, ate just enough food to hold me, and the right amount of conversation to remind me of just how lucky I am, to know so many people.

In New Orleans? People come and go, but tourism remains, and eventually, the tourist who returns each year? Is like an old friend you’ve left behind. I know, I spent several years trotting tourists round. Working at the maison dupuy in the quarter, opened many doors for me. I had just gone through divorce, and was living alone. It was easy to get off work, and go out for dinner, show folks a touch of the city, and then home. I got to a point where once a month, for years AFTER working there, the same folks would come year after year, and seek me out, and we’d go out on the town.

Among close friends, were Lee and Pat Norling. They were from WAY up north, in Minnesota, and they were like vikings to me. Very tall people, and from a cold environment. One year while waiting on the street car, it was about 30 out, and they were bundled up in sweaters, and the locals in down. folks would stare them down like they were crazy, and one even commented, “Aren’t you cold?” I smiled as Pat replied, “It was 33 below when we left home this morning”… Nothing like January in New Orleans.

Another couple I met about the same time were Piper and Andy from Two Boots in Brooklyn. They would come down here and eat at various restaurants, and then go back home a recreate the recipe for their clientele. We always ate good when they were in town too. Fact is, I met them the same time as Lee and Pat. Or at least on the same day. Lee and Pat had been drinking with me on Bourbon, and were my only real customers for the day. They left and went back to their room. In comes Piper and Andy, and they’re drinkin and dancin. I’m about to do a shift change, and they convince me to go to the Spotted Cat with them for their wedding anniversary. I chuckle, since it was actually Lee and Pats anniversary as well. I wonder where they are, and wished I could grab them to join in. As we walk out the door, there’s Lee and Pat, and we all head to the spotted cat for the new orleans jazz vipers.

We have a great time. A year later, Pat and Lee come back, we go out and party, and for fun we go to the spotted cat. I pass a couple at the bar, they’re looking at me like they know me, but my haircolor is different. Turns out, its Piper and Andy, and here we are again, following tradition… the spotted cat for their wedding anniversaries.. the following year when we got hit by katrina, Lee and Pat came down earlier than usual, and got a room, when they were really hard to find. Lee’s mom fell ill, and they had to cut their trip short. Andy and Piper had decided not to come at all, since things weren’t normal. I was bummed. but then I met a guy doing an article on tipitinas foundation, and he knew Piper and Andy, so I sent a message through him to them.

Low and Behold, on Jan 12th, guess who sat down in front of me for a drink? YUP, there they were. these two couples would play an interesting friendship role with me over the years. Lee and Pat, very close friends for life, and Piper and Andy, tourist couples for life. I would send folks to see them in Brooklyn, all the time. I again, look forward to this january, when they come to town.