Off & Running

me

2010-01-17T15:11:00.001-05:00

me
Originally uploaded by bryan pics

Au revoir...

2008-08-22T16:44:00.005-04:00

Off & Running has R-U-N-N-O-F-T!!

2008-08-21T15:17:00.014-04:00

Four days wandering around Chicago ogling architecture is probably pretty nerdy. But damn, what a great time!I really did get the best one, the best partner, that is... Jeff took charge and planned this trip with nothing else on the agenda but checking out some of our favorite architects' work as a birthday present. Who thinks of that? Very nice!
Jeff saved the best for the last day, my actual b-day. A day of religion: Oak Park and Frank Lloyd Wright - GOD....

2008-08-16T08:47:00.006-04:00

I really do have the best partner in the entire world!

Jeff has surprised me with a trip to Chicago today for my birthday, although I actually figured it out weeks ago. I knew we were going on a quick four day trip, so that narrowed the field of possible destinations. I suppose we could get to the islands fairly quickly but he slipped up and said this was going to be an urban vacation.

Couldn't be New York... done that to death. Seattle is too far away to do for this amount of time. Houston? Atlanta? He knows better... Besides Chicago is about the only US city that I haven't done (at least in the list of ones I care to do!)

Then one evening we were sitting around listening to music. The word "Chicago" happened to be in the lyrics of this particular song. He immediately said, "Are you sure you don't want to know where we are going for your birthday?"

I said, "I already know where we are going, Baby. Especially now!"

He looked confused for a moment, then like Homer Simpson said, "Doh!" (not kidding, just like that) and slapped his forehead. Very cliche. Very cute!

He knows how much I get off wandering around looking at architecture, so he's taking me to Mecca. Unbelieveable that, as an architect, I have never been before. Isnt' that just totally cool?

Sorry, Bitches! I got the best one!!!!!

2008-08-14T10:09:00.003-04:00

WTF?

A few weeks ago Jeff, E., C., and I went camping up in Great Smoky Mountains National Park for a few days. Every afternoon we hiked up an old abandoned logging road that followed a VERY cold creek. Along the trail hundreds of butterflies huddled together intermittently, all kinda dopey like, licking the dirt and beating the hell out of each other.

How pretty! Right?

I always thought of butterflies as these beautiful creatures that sort of raised the bar of the whole creepy insect world. But upon closer inspection it was apparent these groups of licking butterflies were all worked up over piles of horse shit! And they were all murdering each other to get at the stuff!

Nature sucks!!

Places I've Been...

2008-08-11T09:48:00.001-04:00

There's still a whole, huge world to see! Where should I go next?!
visited 11 states (4.88%)
Create your own visited map of The World or determine the next president

visited 34 states (68%)
Create your own visited map of The United States or determine the next president

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-08-08T09:57:00.004-04:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "Belvedere"

2008-08-06T11:43:00.003-04:00

Jeff's Official 2008 Birthday Portrait

2008-08-05T11:47:00.001-04:00

from the fireplace at Grove Park Inn, Asheville, NC

Sound-O-Music Singalong!!

2008-07-28T09:33:00.007-04:00

Went to a much anticipated" Sound-O-Music Singalong" the other night, shown, of all places, at the World War II Museum. It kinda sucked. We had a great time because our costumes were fabulous and because we were obnoxious. But the event was pretty tragic. The crowd just didn’t get it.

At first I thought it was going to be great because the crowd was HUGE. (They actually had to turn away a bus load of real live nuns because the place was too full. The nuns had driven all the way from Alabama and, apparently, weren't too pleased with the rejection. They had filthy mouths!) But the vast majority there were people like my parents who, I’m pretty sure, thought they were going to finally see S-O-M again on the big screen, after all these years of watching it at home with their crappy VCR's. (And one must admit it's a beautiful film, and really does need the big screen...) So of course they didn’t wear costumes. They brought the kids…. And they didn’t seem to appreciate the antics of those in the audience, like myself and friends, who were there for some high camp, instead of the feel good summer sensation of 1964.

We danced and sang, cracked filthy jokes, spilled drinks and broke my camera. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ma’am. But no, I will not stop adding suggestive lyrics to ‘The Lonely Goatherd.’ And yes, the original plainly states that he was ‘high, on a hill.’ You do the math!”

I do love this town but sometimes it's very provincial. I mean, the queers didn’t even turn out for this show. The gays in this town just don't ever seem to do the things we are stereotypically expected to do. The only thing they will do is go to the gay bars and watch bad videos, over and over and over….. Oh well…

Surely you've already seen this video but it’s fun to watch again and again! (They should put this on the big screen…)

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-07-25T14:51:00.001-04:00

The week's challenge is "Tatterdemalion." What I won't do for attention....

Today's Favorite Bumper Sticker

2008-07-24T14:58:00.000-04:00

2008-07-24T11:35:00.002-04:00

....a detail from the breakfast table centerpiece this morning....

2008-07-08T10:26:00.006-04:00

Calif. group proposes George W. Bush Sewage Plant

"Proponents of the ... plan see it as fitting tribute to a president they contend has plumbed the depths of incompetence.

"We think that it's important to remember our leaders in the right historical context," said McConnell, a member of the group that was formed after friends came up with the renaming idea.

"In President Bush's case, we think that we will be cleaning up a substantial mess for the next 10 or 20 years," he said. "The sewage treatment facility's job is to clean up a mess, so we think it's a fitting tribute."

The "mess," as supporters of the plan see it, includes the aftermath of the Iraq war and what they see as a neglect of domestic economic issues.

"What we're really doing is symbolizing the fact that as he leaves office, we'll begin the process of basically repairing damage and rebuilding our country's reputation."

This makes so much more sense than a GW Presidential Liberry, don't you think? (Blossom, please don't forget to vote...)

2008-07-07T16:30:00.000-04:00

the boys...

2008-06-30T09:21:00.015-04:00

I have a bad habit. I read newspapers. Not like one of those back-east four-paper vente ice-chai triple shot soy latte pseudo-intellectuals or anything. But I do like to catch up on what's current, at least according to our little local rag, the TP (such as it is...).

But I really need to cut it out. I mean, it's just SO depressing!

This weekend I learned that there is a 50/50 chance that the North Pole will completely melt this summer. I know that sucks for polar bears, but what about Santa Claus?

The economy is in trouble (shock!) and millions are about to default on their McMansion McMortgages.

Gas prices... well, you know...

With all that floating around in my head it can be kind of tough to be the typical cheery Polyanna that my friends and loved ones expect me to be.

But...

It is amazing what an afternoon in the country can do for a bruised and battered world view. Saturday we loaded up the dogs, hit the Popeye's drive-thru and headed out to a friend's commune in seriously rural Mississippi.

Skinny dipping in a muddy pond
Walks in the woods

Laughing at the pathetic mating rituals of a pack of neutered mongrels, sort of like doggy Gay Pride... (Milo was strangely popular...)

Rat-shaped birthday cake (long story...)

Wind in a pine forest

Raindrops on a tin roof

I'm much better now.
Then I just had to go outside this morning and pick up that damn newspaper...

2008-06-25T13:43:00.001-04:00

another critter from the Block-Keller House Bed & Breakfast and Wildlife & Nature Preserve

2008-06-23T18:01:00.006-04:00

Last Friday night, Jeff being out of town and all, I decided to hit the town, on my own for a change just to see what we've been missing cuddled up the way we usually are in our (non) marital bliss (yeah, I know... we never really stay home all cuddled up together or anything, but it was unusual for me to get an off-campus pass alone...). So I headed to this bar uptown that a bunch of guys have been trying to turn queer on Friday night (last time I went it kinda sucked, so I had very low expectations... "So why were you going there again?" you ask? 'Ve no idea.....)

Anyway, I walked in and, for the first time, I really felt like one of those tired old queens that thinks he's still young and hip, but no young and hip thing will speak to... It was packed with hotties! Most of whom I had never seen. I thought I must have just walked into a party that someone had neglected to invite me to. The bastards! There was even some queen with a tiara and a fuschia feather boa (it actually was his birthday... very cliche, I thought...)

Turns out, my feelings of inadequacy were a lot of crap. I got over it and had a terrific time. Saw lots of old friends and met several new ones, some of whom were quite young and hip...(For the record I've never thought of myself as young or hip, so I don't know what I was so worked up about.....)

Well, this afternoon, I had to go out to the 'burbs and Hospital-Land to get fitted for a 24 hour heart monitor. Fun, huh? (Probably no biggie... it's just that sometimes, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I can hear my heart beating. And then I can't go back to sleep because it's like a dripping faucet... beat..beat...beat.... I don't think it's supposed to do that.)

Anyway, I'm never sick so the only time I ever am around sick people is for my annual physical. Well, I walked into this cardiac clinic and everyone in there was way over 90 and, how do I say this, not looking so good.

I loved it! Suddenly I felt quite young and VERY hip! Can't wait till next week when I go have a colonoscopy !!

2008-06-23T10:57:00.007-04:00

After the drama of last week, I figured I needed to sorta lighten things up around here....

One of the nice things about this place is it's not only a B&B, it's my own mini nature preserve. And let me tell you, June is bustin' out all over! (Sorry for the little bit of bug porn.... but I thought it was kinda hot!) Enjoy!

2008-06-19T08:38:00.009-04:00

Seems that my "letter to my parents" (see post of Tuesday, June 17) disturbed a few people. Although that was my intention, these were not the ones I had hoped to disturb.

And for the record, it was never my intention to send this letter to my parents (since we are NOT breaking up that would be somewhat manipulative...) And it also was not meant as a joke. I didn't think or intend for any bit of this to be funny. This was written as an open letter to all parents who wish their gay and lesbian children would "turn away from their evil lifestyle."

So here are a few of the messages I've been receiving (my responses in purple...). Despite the near-heart attacks this has caused I do hope you can see why this was a worthy excercise...
Dear Bryan,
I am sitting here in Durham....and I am stunned. I am so saddened by your letter to your parents, and truthfully, I am puzzled and confused. I can hear the pain and the bitterness in your words....., and I'm confused by the part about conviction that homosexuality is a sin....is this sarcasm to your parents?
It doesn't really matter...my heart goes out to both you and Jeff and I will be thinking of you both. I return this weekend, and I hope we can talk next week.
Love,
K

Darling this is not true.
I thought surely you and everyone who knows me would see this as the satire it was intended to be. Apparently several people I love have read this and
been upset by it. Although I wanted to ruffle some feathers perhaps not
that way. I do apologize! I was just trying to make the point that those who love us yet wish to deny us certain things disrupt their loved ones lives in ways that they might never imagine. All for the sake of the misinterpretation of a few vague passages written thousands of years ago for a strange, exotic group of people half way around the
world.

Once again, I am very sorry if this was disturbing and for the wrong reasons. Jeff and I are most definitely not breaking up for this or any other reason!!!!!

(but do call when you get home!)

Love you!
Bryan

ok...second only to Orson Welles' War of the Worlds, this is the worst joke in history!! At least I won't stay awake all night worrying about you. I had a thought at first that this was just a satirical piece, but then reading about E and the financial situation, it all seemed too horribly real.
DO NOT EVER DO THIS AGAIN.
I still love you.
K

sick bitch.

G, I am not a sick or twisted bitch… at least not in regards to this.
It is called satire. Something saying one thing meant to express a larger point. Yes, I know it might be painful to read but that is precisely the point. I count on the fact that those who know me would eventually come to understand this. But if it elicited that response that is also good. It goes to my point: how fucked up and wrong this whole situation is. I apologize if it scared you or made you feel bad, but in fact you were very much my inspiration. Seeing what you went through after your breakup broke my heart. It was wrong and unnecessary and I think the rest of the world needs to be shaken
up!

I wasn't scared and I didn't feel bad. After the last satirical gesture, I doubt I'd fall for that again.
And you are sick and twisted. I don't care what you
say...

hi
what was that about? I had to check the date but it wasn't april
fools day. have your really split up? what are you doing?

do you really think that is how I would let you know?

NO, we have most definitely not split up!
In honor of CA granting marital status to gays I just wanted to contribute my
little "What if..." It occurred to me that this is basically what C&R hope will happen (them and thousands of other Fundy parents of homos). But what if? Do they really ever think about what that hoped for conclusion would reek in the lives of their loved ones? If I dumped Jeff because I found the Lord would they truly be happy? So I wrote that as an open letter for everyone in our situation. Sorry if it was a bit
disturbing but I felt that, if I gave it a preamble, it would lose its
punch.

I have created a little shit storm with this ...
I told Jeff and Ellen in advance so as not to freak them out.
But some other friends were pretty upset. Regrettable, yes. But that
really shows A. they love me and B. this shit sucks. So I am glad I did
this although it has been sort of a strange experience. I promise if
something that significant ever happens in my life you won't read about it first
on my silly blog!
xo
B
...chalk me up to one of the group that was utterly shocked at first about Bryan’s post. I too thought that it was a little late for an April Fool’s Day joke. My heart did stop and I initially felt immensely sad for all of y’all. But leave it to Blossom to sum up things very nicely with her comment. Ha.

But in reading the response post and thinking more about it, I must say a big “bravo!!” to Bryan – and for Jeff for supporting the post without an asterisk at the beginning (you’re right, it would have lost its punch). Keep shaking things up! Lord, knows there are plenty out there – and sometimes especially some of us like minded souls – that need a good poke in the ass to see the realities of the situation – and yes that was an intentional phrase so that y’all can make very off-color comments ;-)

And now for something completely different #2...(sorry Monty Python!)

2008-06-18T21:16:00.002-04:00

UPDATE (June 23): I just found out that Heinz has pulled this ad because of complaints. Seems the idea of two men, obviously committed to each other giving each other a loving kiss is still considered to be offensive. Considering the kind of crap folks love to watch on TV that speaks volumes. Sad, sad...

2008-06-17T11:31:00.003-04:00

Dear Mom and Dad,

I have some great news for you! After more than seventeen years, Jeff and I have decided (well, truthfully it was I who did the deciding…) that it is right that we should separate from each other. I know this must be an answer to your fervent prayers.

I am sure there will be some difficult adjustments to make in my life. And, I suppose, in other’s lives, as well, not least of all Jeff’s. I haven’t broken the news to E yet and expect that will be difficult. Considering the fact that she was only three years old when they first met, and he has raised her as if she were his own, and that she considers him to be more of a father than her legal step-father, I expect this separation will be somewhat painful. But she is twenty now and will just have to adjust.

I suppose that Jeff’s parents will probably miss seeing me at family get-togethers. Over the years they had begun introducing me as the second son they never had. His extended family had taken me in as one of their own, as well. I will miss them. So will E. But I suppose these are always the ramifications of divorce. However, since we have never actually been able to marry I guess I shouldn’t use that word or expect such dramatics.

I’m not exactly sure what will become of our financial situation or the property that we own together. Not to mention the B&B. Since we were never married, although I had given up my profession to run our joint venture thirteen year’s ago, Jeff has little legal financial obligation to me. We will hopefully be able to sell the business at some point and divide the proceeds. But in the meantime I will need to come up with a way, without benefit of employment, to pay for half of the expenses this behemoth incurs. It won’t be easy getting back to work while still running this business, but I’ll think of something. Not quite sure what this will mean to E’s college fund, but the Lord will provide… Right?

Also, I suppose I will have to secure health insurance on my own now since the domestic partnership benefits I had gotten through Jeff’s employer will terminate. That won’t be cheap!

It really is a shame that we had never been able to marry so at least I might have some legal recourse in this situation. After all we have both worked together for almost two decades to create this situation. It’s difficult (and frightening) to accept that it now comes to me to strike out on my own with so few resources. Jeff’s financial situation won’t really change that much. Mom, you are so lucky that none of this would ever befall you if, god forbid, you and Dad had needed to part ways. I just wish this wasn’t going to affect E so severely. Oh well, she can always get student loans. I hope.

But I guess all of this is what the Lord would want. Right? I mean the idea of two men in a loving committed relationship over so much time is an abomination. And I guess the fact that we had loved each other so deeply and committed so much of our lives together, including the rearing of a wonderful daughter doesn’t change any of that. The Bible tells me so. Well, at least the way it is interpreted for me by various church leaders. I will just have to take their word that they have a sharper ear for the word of the Lord than I.

I’m not sure what to expect of the future. Even though I now realize that acting on my homosexuality is a sin it doesn’t really change the fact that I am homosexual. So I can’t imagine I would want to try to get married to a woman. I mean, even if one would have me, with all of that history and a dubious financial situation, I’m afraid I would just be living a lie. In fact, as you recall, I’ve already tried that once, with disastrous results. I don’t want to put anyone else through something like that.

Living alone won’t be so bad, I guess. Especially if that is what the Lord wants. It must be right. I can be one of those old Southern bachelors that every family used to have. I’ll come to family events with casseroles wearing cardigan sweaters and bounce the nieces and nephews on my knee! That will be nice.

But I suppose the hardest part of all of this is, although this must be right, I know that I will miss Jeff. He doesn’t believe that this is necessary and his heart is truly broken. But my mind is made up. The Lord has convicted my heart and through your years of teaching me about the inerrancy and divinity of scripture I know I must follow this conviction.

It is doubtful Jeff and I will remain close. That would be too difficult. Besides I feel that he will remain in this life of sin and I cannot condone that. Despite the fact that we have been family now for more than a third of my life, and almost all of E’s, we must all say “Good bye.”

So now I am off to begin dismantling my life and begin to prepare for the new. I know it will be difficult, and perhaps very lonely. But this must be what the Lord wants.

Right?

Your loving son,
Bryan

2008-06-16T18:26:00.000-04:00

...or maybe I'll just move to California, instead (see post below).

CABARET - WILKOMMEN on TV France 2 - Paris

2008-06-16T12:26:00.001-04:00

Went to a local production of "Cabaret" yesterday afternoon. Fabelhaft!

When I got home, I couldn't stop dancing all around the house (when hopefully no one was looking) aping the Emcee singing "Wilkommen." (The sign of a musical's triumph is how successful are it's earworms at driving one insane...this one succeeds...)

Then I found this video... I'm moving to Paris!

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-06-13T10:52:00.002-04:00

"Tawdry"

2008-06-08T12:34:00.000-04:00

from The New Yorker...

You just can't make this shit up...

2008-06-06T14:49:00.003-04:00

Praise Jesus! One fewer thing for me to worry about after I've been taken up to Glory!!

I've laid awake nights worrying about you poor saps who will be left down here to suffer the Tribulation without access to the reams and reams of my wisdom and musings. Now, thanks to the miracle of the Internets, it will all be distributed to you, the Lost Heathen. But you'll have to wait six days after the Rapture (not seven, the number of perfection... that would be sacrilegious!)

Thanks, Brother Robby, for hooking me up with "You've Been Left Behind!"

For others of the Elect who might be interested, here is a sampling of what this marvelous service has to offer:

Document storage and "Rapture" triggered email messaging system.
Store up to 250mb of documents
Send to up to 62 individual email addresses
150Mb encrypted document storage
100mb unencrypted document storage

You can edit documents any time
Write your own documents or choose from some of oursServices Overview
We have set up a system to send documents by the email, to the addresses you provide, 6 days after the "Rapture" of the Church. This occurs when 3 of our 5 team members scattered around the U.S fail to log in over a 3 day period. Another 3 days are given to fail safe any false triggering of the system.
We give you 150mb of encrypted storage that can be sent to 12 possible email addresses, in Box #1. You up load any documents and choose which documents go to who. You can edit these documents at any time and change the addresses they will be sent to as needed. Box #1 is for your personal private letters to your closest lost friends and relatives.

We give you another 100mb. of unencrypted storage that can be sent to up to 50
email addresses, in Box #2. You can edit the documents and the addresses any
time. Box #2 is for more generic documents to lost family & friends.
The cost is $40 for the first year. Re-subscription will be reduced as the number of subscribers increases.
Tell your friends about You've Been left behind.

Act now! Don't delay!

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-06-06T11:06:00.000-04:00

2008-06-05T09:39:00.001-04:00

2008-06-03T17:43:00.007-04:00

I just received this petition in my email inbox, asking me to join the fight to make the Sazerac the Official Cocktail of New Orleans:

June 3, 2008

To Whom It May Concern:

On behalf of the non-profit, New Orleans Culinary and Cultural Preservation Society and Tales of the Cocktail, I am writing in support of legislation that would
establish the Sazerac Cocktail as the official Cocktail of New Orleans.

As you may know, 19th century pharmacist Antoine Amedee Peychaud, who
operated his apothecary on Royal Street in the French Quarter, invented the
Sazerac in New Orleans. Peychaud, a refugee of the slave rebellions of
St.-Domingue (which became the nation of Haiti), concocted his own special blend
of aromatic bitters, added them to French Brandy, made by Sazerac des Forge et
Fils of Limoges, France, along with a little Louisiana cane sugar. This classic
libation, over the course of the 19th century has evolved into the drink we know
today, the Sazerac, which is composed of rye whiskey, sugar, absinthe (or a
substitute), and Peychaud's Bitters. Regardless of whether it was the world's
"first" cocktail, the Sazerac is among the first, and likely the Sazerac is the
first cocktail born in the Crescent City.

Upholding ongoing traditions that distinguish this part of the country hold Louisiana and New Orleans together. The Sazerac has always been a sort of greeting to first-time visitors to the state as well as a familiar companion to lifetime residents. Like New Orleans, the cocktail provides as much as people are willing to take. When well- crafted, the simple drink makes a distinct impression that will always remind people of Louisiana. Yet, if examined further, the history that accompanies the libation is descriptive of entire generations. The history of bitters, absinthe, brandy and rye are inherently connected to this drink. These are not only components of a cocktail, but also components of an entire state’s culture.

Therefore, I ask that you support the initiative to name the Sazerac the
official state cocktail. Preserving the heritage of Louisiana is a fundamental
responsibility of state governments, and I can think of no better way to do so
than to advocate this legislation. Thank you for considering this issue.

Now, don't get me wrong. As most of you know, I am definitely not one to oppose strong drink. In fact, when a certain friend comes to town (Hey, Sheel!) I do make a pitcher or two of the Sazeracs. (Yum!) After all, I loves me some history, and I think this is muy especial.

But for real... do we really need the morons up at the state capital arguing over whether or not this concoction or perhaps some other, like the Hand Grenade or the Purple People Eater or the Green Goddamn or whatever should be the Official Cocktail? I mean, doesn't New Orleans already have sort of the wrong reputation internationally? Most people already misconceive us to only be about the drink as it is. Right?

Surely there is more urgent business at hand. Let's take a look...

Now that we have the uber conservative, wunderkind Bobby Jindal newly ensconced in the governor's manse (at least until McCain tries to whisk him away to a new home at the Naval Observatory in DC) seems our legislature has much more important stuff to codify to placate the festering masses. How about a little Scientific Creationism seeings that the Gov has expressed "doubts about evolution"?

The esteemed congressman, Steve Scalise, who represents my hometown, considers his proudest moments as a Louisiana legislator to have been shepherding two bills: one protecting gun manufacturers against lawsuits by cities and another banning gay marriage. (Good job, Steve!) I had to add this video mostly for the intro, which has absolutely nothing to do with this topic, but there's nothing better than a local carpet commercial...

OK.... never mind. Who am I kidding? Maybe arguing over which hi-ball will do a better job representing our marvelous city to the world makes more sense than some of the other crap they fuss over. Sign me up!

I need a drink.

2008-06-03T12:03:00.002-04:00

WTF?

2008-06-02T13:25:00.010-04:00

OK.

Memorial Day has come and gone, and quite memorably, I might add.

The creole tomatoes are in and we've just about made ourselves sick on Tomato Pie already.

1 pastry shell, baked and completely cooled
3 medium creole tomatoes, seeded and thickly sliced (nothing else is
acceptable so if you aren't from here you will just have to use your
imagination...or have them flown in)
2 l. eggs
1/2 c. diced onions
1 pint plain yogurt
2 T. fresh herbs, chopped
salt and pepper to taste
dash Tabasco

Mix yogurt, eggs, herbs (I typically use a combination of rosemary, basil,
parsley, thyme or oregano depending on what's in the garden and what I've got a
hankering for), salt and pepper and Tabasco in a medium bowl.

Layer tomato slices and yogurt mixture, filling pastry shell.

Bake at 375 for 50-60 minutes until set.

We finally have our summer vacation plans on the calendar (even though Jeff just emailed me telling me we might have to start that all over again because of something as annoying as a work conflict. Dammit!)

I'm starting to be able to get really sweet, soft peaches at the Farmer's Market and the price of fresh blueberries is less obscene. So of course we've thrown out the diet and started gorging ourselves on Blueberry/Peach Crisp.

1 c. flour
1 t baking powder
1 egg
3 c peeled, sliced peaches
2 T sugar
1/2 t salt
2 c fresh blueberries
1/4 c melted butter
1/2 t cinnamon

Combine flour, baking powder and salt.
Stir in unbeaten egg.
Mix with fork until crumbly.
Place blueberries and peaches in a 2 quart buttered baking
dish.
Sprinkle with topping.
Drizzle with melted butter.
Combine 2 T sugar with cinnamon and sprinkle over top.
Bake at 375 for 35 to 40 minutes.
Serve with ice cream.

The daily temperature is leveling off now somewhere around 1000 degrees with humidity to match.

The newspaper serves up daily the annual nightmare projections for an above average hurricane season (which began yesterday), complete with a guilt inducing list of things I must do to prepare (but probably won't, even though I suppose I should have learned my lesson...).

All of this can only mean one thing: summer is here!

So tell me... why are there still strangers sleeping in my house? Don't these people know that summer is the off-season? Why would anyone want to be in this god forsaken corner of hell this time of year? I don't even want to be here!

Yes, I know... As a businessman I should be SO grateful for the business. Right? And I suppose I'm not really complaining about the revenue. But come on! I am so ready for a freakin' break!

GET OUT!!!!!!!

2008-05-26T11:43:00.002-04:00

Happy Birthday, Patrick!

2008-05-23T18:52:00.008-04:00

It's been a while since I ranted about any B&B nightmares. Allow me to share...

We have this creepy old guy staying here (at left) shacked up with his equally creepy young girlfriend. I'm talking probably 80 / 40. And she isn't even pretty. Anyway, that isn't the problem. (God forbid I should judge anyone else's sleeping arrangements! Cast not the first stone, etc.) They're just creepy.

Anyway, yesterday morning after she fed him his pablum I noticed that he was tottering around the parlor on my grandfather's cane that he picked out of a walking stick collection I have (for some unknown reason...).

"Do you mind if I use this while I'm here?" he politely asked.

"No, that's fine," I replied, adding, "It was my grandfather's. He made it."

No response, he and Nurse simply turned and walked away. As I went back to clearing away breakfast, I noticed the two of them heading out the front door, I supposed getting on with their day. He was using the cane. Just walking off, surely to leave it in some gas station toilet or worse.

My grandfather had made that cane. It wasn't any more than some old sycamore stick we had found on one of our innumerable hiking trips. I think somewhere along the Appalachian Trail in North Carolina. He screwed a solid brass horn to the top as a handle that had come from my great grandfather's saddle, back when he had been a cowboy herding cattle from Oklahoma to the stock yards of Chicago. On the bottom of the cane was a tacky old rubber cane tip from some metal walker he picked up at a Bartlesville flea market.

One ugly ass cane.

But he carried that cane every time we hit the trails together. And he'd be a son-of-a-bitch if I ever showed up to hike without one. Just one of his litany of how things had to be. Fact is, he was kind of a son-of-a-bitch about a lot of stuff. And he was my favorite person in the entire world.

Knock, knock, knock!
"Why the hell are you at the front door?"
"I just am, old man. Now get up and let me in!"
(softly) "He, he, he..."

Growing up in that intellectual wasteland that is Southern Suburban Fundamentalist Christianity, he was one of two beacons of hope on my horizon. (The other was his son, my uncle.) When we would visit he always took me into this sanctuary of a room where he kept a vast collection of Native American art and artifacts. We would spend hours together in the close heat of that un-air conditioned room as he would tell me tedious details about the projectile points, baskets, beads and pottery. The dumbest, most inane questions were answered without judgement.

But often he wouldn't answer my question. He would make me tease it out of my own collected knowledge. He made me think. Something not altogether encouraged elsewhere in my world.

He was tough, rugged, brilliant. Suffered no fools. Ever.

He hiked to the bottom of Grand Canyon with me and my then-wife, back in 1986. All day as we hiked in that dry summer heat he pointed out the various layers of rock as we descended. He explained to us how this enormous place had been formed. It was amazing to have our own personal guide. I couldn't get enough.

"If that old man asks me one more time about what layer of rock this is or what kind of tree is that, I swear to god I am pushing him over the edge," my wife said.

Our marriage didn't last.

The first time he came to visit me after I had moved in with Jeff was for Christmas. I wasn't sure if he would figure out the arrangement and, if he did, what his reaction might be. After all, he was an Eisenhower Republican and a Presbyterian. But he had always been honest with me and was one of the only men in my life who had ever treated me with dignity and respect. So I couldn't bring myself to move my clothes into the guest room.

A few weeks after he had gone home a package came from him addressed to Jeff, not me. Inside was a wrapped gift. The note simply said, "Welcome to the family, Jeff. Love, Grandad."

He died two weeks after we got slammed by Katrina. Fortunately, since we were still living in exile and, obviously, the B&B was still shut down, I was able to be there. In fact, the night I got there was really the last time he was lucid. He knew I was there.

Stoic to the end, the last thing he ever said to me spoke of his unwavering intellect. "Bryan," he said, "have you ever had an enema?"

The next three days I spent alone in his Indian Room, packing the entire collection for storage. I had never, in my entire life, been allowed to touch most of this stuff. And here I was, alone, left to make sure it would survive until it's next incarnation. I know this sounds really corny, but I could swear he was in that room with me. Maybe not helping me but reassuring me that he had faith that I would take care of these things that had meant so much to him. To us both.

I didn't know how much that ugly old cane meant to me until I saw it walk out the front door. How much I would miss it if I never saw it again.

Fortunately it didn't get lost. Now it's back in the vestibule with the other canes. Perhaps I was too harsh about this creepy old man. Maybe the cane needed that walk.

2008-05-21T18:10:00.002-04:00

As I was saying...

2008-05-20T11:18:00.004-04:00

So this is what Middle America is working, striving, bleating to deny me. Perhaps I should thank them. After all, I've been married before. Didn't work out so well... Jeff and I have been perfectly happy for more than seventeen years without the benefits of marriage, and having a damn good time together, I might add. Maybe I should just leave well enough alone...

But I just don't get it.

The ones that foam at the mouth about values and tradition and patriotism and Jesus just cannot stand the idea of a couple of queers deciding to dedicate themselves to each other for life, the way they do. (Apparently not all that successfully if you look at the hetero divorce rate...) They would prefer that we continue to live in sin and promiscuity forever? Their words, not mine...

I guess I could accept that in some sort of psycho-sick way. You know, if they can ensure that we continue in our lascivious ways then they can feel good and self-righteous in their condemnation. But that isn't even what they rant on and on about.
Well, not just that.

No... they have to keep going on and on about how we are out to destroy their marriages therefore undermining the foundation of our "God fearing society". Yeah, because they aren't doing that well enough on their own. As I've said before, as we have all said a bazillion times, how exactly does that make any sense?

Instead of trying to keep me and Jeff from doing something as dull and mundane as getting married (although when we finally are allowed to, I promise one kick-ass party, which will help the economy of the gay community by employing caterers and florists) why don't they pass laws making it harder for closeted gay guys to cheat on their hapless wives (just check out the sad profiles of these poor trapped bastards on any on-line hook-up site...and believe me I say that without any judgement! There but for the grace of me go I!). Or make it punishable to be a shrieking harpy of a wife, forcing celibacy or worse on these poor guys once they've gotten their claws dug in and reproductive urges satisfied.

I just don't think we are the problem here!

I tell you what. You don't want the government in your bedroom? In your uterus, telling you when and where you can or cannot reproduce?

OK. I don't want the government in my dull and boring committed monogamous relationship, claiming that my desire to commit to one other man is going to cause the Good Lord to rain fire and brimstone down on this nation under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-05-16T10:09:00.006-04:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "cats."

Last summer Jeff and I spent a couple of weeks in England. After several days in London we rented a car and drove down into East Sussex stopping for three nights at Jeake's House, a small inn dating back to the 17th century, in the amazing, tiny medieval village of Rye.

One evening, after hours of wandering the dark deserted streets, we stopped in the parlor to talk with Jenny, the innkeeper, before heading up the winding stairs to our small room tucked under the eaves of this ancient house. As we talked, Jenny scooped up Yum-Yum, one of the resident Tonkinese cats, who had been purring loudly while weaving coyly in and out of our legs. Monte, the less gregarious of the two cats, eyed us suspiciously from his perch on top of the fireplace mantle.

"Oh look!" An elderly English lady burst into the room, ecstatic at the site of the two kitties. "You've got pussy! Oh, how I love pussy!"

Her husband remained cowering in the doorway obviously vexed at his wife's display.

"Oh, Jenny!" she continued. "Can you ever get enough pussy?"

Jenny, in that wonderful calm, dry, British way, simply looked Jeff and me straight in the eye and responded, "Oh, I think some of us can."

communist

2008-05-14T22:15:00.001-04:00

Bonne Crevette!

2008-05-14T15:51:00.008-04:00

It doesn't take much for us to celebrate around here. So this morning, Greg and I went to a little festival at a Quarter hotel to celebrate the opening of shrimp season! (What did you do on this Tuesday morning?) It was pretty dramatic. First they took the first precious shrimp out of a downtown bank vault , wrapped in gold foil, of course (we skipped this bit...). Then everybody took to the streets for a second line behind the Treme Brass Band, white handkerchiefs and umbrellas in hand, dancing the few blocks to the hotel.

Then several locally renowned chefs were toasted with Creole Tomato Bloody Mary's and were each presented with white rubber shrimp boots. (You would totally have to be from here for any of this to make much sense I suppose...)

After all the official bloviating the masses were invited to follow the band into the hotel courtyard for more Bloodies along with various shrimp dishes prepared by some of the chefs, as well as some kick ass Chantilly cream berry cake. And the best part was that it didn't cost nothin'! (Well, maybe not the best part...)Greg and I wondered exactly how long we could just keep going from event to event, eating and drinking the most wonderful stuff and never spend a dime. I know the Tugboat Captain has tried something simular. I need to find out how well that worked out!

2008-05-12T19:18:00.000-04:00

I just couldn't NOT post this...

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-05-09T17:53:00.002-04:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "restaurant." This amazing couple was at the adjacent table on a Paris dinner cruise a few years ago. Tres magnifique!

UPDATE: Apparently my daughter, Ellen, took this shot, not me. Both of us couldn't stop photographing this couple, probably to their dismay. (We were all being WAY over served with the wine...) So this is her inadvertant entry into the photo challenge thingy. Sorry, Ellen!

2008-05-08T18:39:00.002-04:00

"The idea that, if gays are allowed to marry, it will somehow undermine the sanctity of your marriage, is as ridiculous as saying that my eating pumpkin pie on July 4th will somehow destroy your Thanksgiving!" - me

2008-05-05T17:44:00.000-04:00

...the party's over...

2008-05-05T12:45:00.002-04:00

for those of you who could not be with us...

JazzFest Pic of the Day

2008-05-04T10:12:00.003-04:00

Busted...

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-05-02T10:20:00.002-04:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "roister."

Some more JazzFest pics

2008-04-29T12:18:00.007-04:00

It just wouldn't be JazzFest if, at least once, you didn't get to stand in calf-deep rain water while ordering your crawfish strudel!Late Sunday afternoon, after the monsoon had passed, Jeff and I found ourselves drawn once again to the Fais-Do-Do stage to hear one of our favorite local bands, BeauSoleil avec Michael Doucet. Even though Al Green was playing only a few hundred feet away, and Elvis Costello was doing some amazing stuff across the infield with Allen Toussaint, there is very little that can out do the kick-ass, unmitigated joie de vivre of this cajun band. Not only did the thick, sandy muck not stop the two stepping, I'm pretty sure it encouraged more of us to just let it rip!

2008-04-28T13:34:00.003-04:00

Just finished the first weekend of JazzFest and, as usual, it was mind blowing! Over the two days that we went we saw Sheryl Crow, Elvis Costello playing with Allen Toussaint, Al Green, BeauSoleil avec Michael Doucet, Teresa Anderson among others. But the powerhouse show was definitely Alison Krauss and Robert Plant!

I have been a huge Alison Krauss fan for years but had serious doubts about her coupling with Robert Plant. In fact, I even have their CD which I liked well enough. But I had seen them perform somewhere together on TV and wasn't convinced. They didn't seem to have any chemistry and their voices together seemed a bit forced, this union a bit contrived.

Well, I think they've worked things out!

Both of their voices are haunting and enormous. Chills ran down my spine, hairs on the back of my neck stood up. And when they launched into "When the Levee Breaks" just as it began to rain, just about everybody burst into tears! One of those not-so-rare, but unbelievable you-had-to-be-there JazzFest moments never to be forgotten!

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-04-25T09:37:00.001-04:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "crapulence."

2008-04-23T08:57:00.006-04:00

Ever have one of those days, where you are going along, content with the status quo. Then all of a sudden you get slapped in the face, out of the blue, with the realization that things just aren't right. Something important to you, this place where you are comfortable...suddenly you come face to face with this realization that what you thought was truth, something you've spent so much time and energy believing in is just plain wrong. You've let this thing into your life that, although perhaps you didn't necessarily think was particularly good for you, at least you didn't think it harmful. And others you have shunned because they couldn't measure up to this particular love.

Then the realization comes.... you have been lied to all this time. This deception, this insidious thing that has meant so much to you now for so very long was all a sham. What a crushing blow to realize how many times you have had to deceive yourself and even defend this habit, and face it, that's what it is - a habit. Others had tried to tell me that I wasn't really paying attention to what I was allowing, what I was taking into myself.

But today I must make a change. After all the time and energy and even money that I have spent on this obsession, now that I have had this epiphany, come face to face with the cold hard light of day, I must now accept: pork rinds are much more nutritious than Cheetos!

2008-04-18T12:01:00.005-04:00

The struggle continues...

As Clash so brilliantly put it, should I stay or should I go? What once was so clear to Jeff and me has now gotten so confusing, as our stay in Limbo drags on almost now into a third year. For those of you who know me well and must listen to my ceaseless rantings and ravings, pro and con, about our lives and loves here in Shangri-La or the Black Hole of the South, depending on your point of view, you must think I vacillate like petroleum jelly.

"I'll love this place till I die!"

"If I don't get the f#%k out this s*&t hole I'm gonna die!"

ad nauseum, ad infinitum... I know. I know!

Everyone falls in love with New Orleans in springtime, this great seducing whore! The weather is spectacular. There is a never ending litany of amazing festivals. The whole city is in bloom. Have dinner al fresco under a breezy black sky as rafts of purple clouds slide past a white, waxing moon and just try not to fall in love. I dare you! I tried last night.

People pay me good money to come down here and do this kind of corny stuff. It's all free to me. Although we do spend tons of cash going out, we don't even have to. Our elevated back porch is the best seat in town for sunset and, other than my outrageous mortgage, it don't cost me a thing.

Then I wake up and the Picayune is littered with bad news about who got shot, who got away with it, what politician has $100k tucked away in his freezer, who thinks Creationism is a good idea, which of our magnificent local traditions should be done away with because the cops can't do their job, ad nauseum, ad infinitum...

And then, of course, there is looming summer heat and, with it, the dreaded hurricane season.....

But then again, all this may be moot (I actually hate that word, but can't think of an alternative...).

I have always said this place is a great black hole. People are uncontrollably attracted to her and then can't ever seem to leave her. But then a friend the other day commented on how negative that sounds. He suggested Shangi-La or Paradise.

I'm searching for a mystical, mythical precedent for this place. Perhaps there has never been anything like this before. Someplace magnificent in many ways, but balanced by so much darkness and corruption. People are drawn into it's magical spell and live out their days in an endless whirling dance of staggering decadence and indulgence.

Why would anyone want to leave? And no one ever does. But what they don't realize is that centuries ago a curse was cast on this marvelous city - a curse that doesn't allow anyone who ever falls under it's spell to leave. Fortunately another spell was also cast insuring that those unfortunate souls that are locked here forever, never know or care.

Bryan is currently playing the shit out of

2008-04-15T09:49:00.000-04:00

but on the other hand...

2008-04-09T09:30:00.003-04:00

Jeff and I had a long conversation the other night about the benefits of staying beginning to outweigh the benefits of leaving this town. One of our major concerns, however, is the crime, which seems to be increasingly random and more often directed towards innocent people who happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

We have always been rather cavalier about wandering neighborhood streets at all hours, particularly in the French Quarter. It's not that we have naiively believed we were immune to opportunistic criminals. On the contrary, I have always felt that it is only a matter of time before it's our turn to get hit on - and not in the good way! But we have always been content to play the odds. I am not the kind to be scared indoors. Too much life to be lived out there, so you take your chances.

Well, things are beginning to sink in. Last week a good friend was almost hi-jacked at gunpoint in what should be a very safe neighborhood Uptown. Last fall a friend was shot in the face in the early evening in the Garden District and nearly died, all for $20. His life will never be the same. The list goes on and on.

Now the following article was in the paper this morning:

Rash of holdups hit Quarter, Uptown
Robberies are close, about same time
Robbery sprees Saturday morning and early Tuesday morning have Uptown and French Quarter police detectives scrambling to catch the gunmen, police said.
In the most recent crimes, two men are believed to have committed two robberies within minutes and a block of each other Tuesday about 1:45 a.m., police said.
A 40-year-old woman and a 40-year-old man told police they were approached by two armed men in the 900 block of Dumaine Street who stole a purse and a wallet. The woman was pistol-whipped with the butt of the gun during the robbery, suffering a minor cut to the chin, police said.

Two minutes later, two women, 38 and 22, reported being approached from the rear by two armed men who demanded their belongings at gunpoint in the 900 block of St. Philip Street (one block from my friend Greg's house, where we had the crawfish boil on Sunday). The men escaped with two purses containing money, two cell phones and other personal effects, police said. Less than four hours earlier and about two blocks away in the 1000 block of Orleans Street, a gunman approached two women, 26 and 47, from the rear and took a purse and a grocery bag, telling them to run, police said. Police said they were trying to determine whether that man was one of the two men who committed the later holdups.

On Saturday, police believe another man committed four robberies in a 50-minute span between 8:10 a.m. and 9 a.m., police said. The robberies occurred in the 800 block of Short Street, the 8300 block of Zimpel Street, the intersection of Dante and Freret streets, and the 1200 block of Joseph Street, police said. In only one of the crimes -- on Joseph Street -- did the man display a gun.
Police had made no arrests and apparently had no suspects in any of these crimes Tuesday night.

These are all in places where I spend a lot of time. And we are considering moving into the French Quarter!

And then there is this other article that appeared in today's Picayune:

No charges are filed in Carnival shooting
Five people injured after Endymion

Attorney's office last week refused to press forward with attempted murder
charges against two teenagers accused of shooting into a crowd of Carnival
revelers on Canal Street after the Endymion parade, citing witness problems
common in New Orleans criminal cases.

Prosecutors decided against charging
Inassio Farria, 17, and Bryson McDonald, 18, because of a "a lack of
victim-witness cooperation and other evidentiary issues," Dalton Savwoir, a
spokesman for District Attorney Keva Landrum-Johnson, said Tuesday. Savwoir
would not elaborate on the witness problems. Farria and McDonald were
arrested not long after the Feb. 2 shooting at the corner of Canal and Baronne
streets, which happened shortly after the Endymion parade had passed. Five
people were injured, including an 18-year-old man the New Orleans Police
Department has publicly identified as the "intended victim." Three of the other
victims, including two women from out of state, were hit in their legs. Another
man was struck in the elbow.

A large number of officers descended onto the chaotic scene, which was littered with parade debris and people milling around after the parade. Police leaders estimated more than 60 officers had been stationed on the Canal Street neutral ground near the scene during the parade.

According to a police report by 8th District Detective
Louis Labat, five officers caught Farria and McDonald, who were running from the
shooting scene and pointed at by people in the crowd.

Last month during a preliminary court hearing, defense attorneys for Farria and McDonald questioned whether police had nabbed the correct men, pointing out that no weapons were recovered and the department hadn't performed gunpowder residue tests on the suspects.

"The case against them was very weak," said Dylan Utley, who
represented McDonald. "We felt they were swept up in the chaos and
misidentified." Police Department Assistant Superintendent Marlon Defillo
called the DA's decision to refuse the case a "disappointment."

I mean, for Chrissake, if they can't even put together a case against a bunch of thugs that open fire into a crowd of innocent parade watchers, many of whom had to be witnesses, then what chance do we have? The criminals know damn well that people are way to intimidated to come forward, so they can do what they damn well please.

The cops around here are all assholes treating the citizenry like shit. They are completely incompetent and unprofessional in performing their jobs. The public does not trust them or like them. And the criminals know it.

The DA's office is awash in a morass of malfeasance and incompetence, as well, and VERY rarely bring a criminal to trial. And the criminals know this, too. The perfect storm.

So, are we willing to party on, waiting until it is our turn? Or do we need to move this to the top of our short list of reasons to go? If you would have told me years ago that I would consider moving to Manhattan to escape out-of-control crime in New Orleans I would have been amazed.

2008-04-07T09:33:00.006-04:00

What would Springtime in New Orleans be without crawfish and beer on the banquette in the French Quarter? Well, lots of things, I suppose since this is actually the first time I've had crawfish on the banquette in the Quarter. Still... Yesterday, my good friend, Greg, treated us all to piles of the little critters as well as the requisite boiled potatoes, shrimp and corn (staggering how many inappropriate, juvenile and funny-as-hell comments ten adults can make about corn...).The Quarter is such a village. Although Greg has a great courtyard behind his house I was so glad he wanted to set this up out front. Dinner and a show! All afternoon an endless parade of neighbors, friends, winos, prostitutes, grandmas, drag queens, etc. wandered by, more than a few stopping to partake whether invited to or not.Then when the bugs were reduced to debris I noticed this underneath mocking me:

As if to say, as Greg always does: "You're not moving!"

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-04-04T10:20:00.004-04:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "conversation piece."

About eight years ago, Jeff and I bought this ruin of a house which we spent a bit of time and a butt load of cash restoring into this B&B. One afternoon, one of the carpenter came running down the stairs all exited about something he had found behind an old mahogany mantle piece he was trying to rip out. It was apparent that he was operating under the misguided assumption of "finders keepers." He was sadly disappointed. I'm the one paying the bills, I get to keep the crap. (Pretty sure he later found some other cool stuff and was wise enough to keep his mouth shut about it...)

People look at the front of this and are somewhat interested. It's got a cute graphic and every now and then someone gets the pun within the name.

Then they turn it over (I had it framed sandwiched between two pieces of glass- it was starting to fall apart from all of the handling...) They read down the page for a few seconds and then their eyebrows arch, they shriek, they get disgusted and/or horrified, they fall on the floor laughing. I learn a lot about my friends and acquaintances this way.

Ah, the good ol' days when a "Dry Bob" could be had for a mere $.49...

(I had originally planned to use the pic below as my entry, but I knew Dave wouldn't like it...)

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-03-28T21:49:00.001-04:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "spring." (Sorry... just couldn't help myself...)

2008-03-26T16:31:00.004-04:00

Who could have ever imagined being dragged around on a dog leash in a bunny suit by a leather bunny on a beautiful Easter Sunday could be so much fun? Live and learn!

2008-03-24T09:30:00.011-04:00

We've just spent the past couple of days exploring the "true meaning of Easter." I've always contended that this was much more of a pagan holiday than Christian and now am more sure of that than ever! I mean what exactly do bunnies, peeps, flowers and eggs have to do with resurrection anyway? This is about fertility! And in New Orleans, that is something we know how to celebrate!!

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-03-21T09:27:00.002-04:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "juxtapose." What can I say?

Stuff around town...

2008-03-19T19:44:00.005-04:00

Just something I saw laying on a Bywater porch, next to the begonias. I think this is supposed to resemble a human head, perhaps female. My guess is that Grandma got ceramics classes for Christmas and this was her entry for the Spring Biennial Gala. Probably titled, oh, I don't know..."Pellagra."

Stuff around town...

2008-03-17T19:08:00.001-04:00

2008-03-16T15:35:00.006-04:00

Oh, just another day in this bizarro, third-world, banana republic of a city.

We started the day bicycling down to St. Louis Cathedral in the heart of the French Quarter to see their St. Joseph altar. "What is a St. Joseph altar?" you ask? You mean to tell me that your church doesn't set up an elaborate display for flowers and food to venerate some saint from time to time complete with tables and tables and tables of wine cakes, fig cookies, baked fish, macaroni salad, and lucky fava beans? Yeah, probably not. But we got to share the bounty with hizzoner, the (dis)honorable mayor C. Ray Nagin. (You should have seen the glare coming off that shiny head of his. He should not come out on cloudless days. Someone's gonna go blind.)
Then we biked on Uptown to a garden party on the St. Patrick's Day parade route. (I know...yet another saint. I wonder if this has anything to do with the naming of our football team...) Anyway, we all caught lots beads, of course. But more importantly lots of produce (cabbages, carrots, onions, potatoes - I suppose the makings of Irish stew) and other random food stuffs (breakfast cereal, moon pies, a big bag of hot 'n spicy Chee Weez). You probably don't do this in your town either, do you?

And yes, that is a cucumber in my pocket. Get your minds out of the gutter!

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-03-14T10:18:00.004-05:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "squalor." Well, I suppose that isn't too hard to find in post-K NOLA. In fact, it isn't too hard to find in my own house! For lo, it sayeth in the Good Book:

"Either how canst thou say to thy brother, Brother, let me pull out the mote that
is in thine eye, when thou thyself beholdest not the beam that is in thine own
eye? Thou hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thine own eye, and then
shalt thou see clearly to pull out the mote that is in thy brother's eye." Luke
6:41-43

Besides, after Junk Thief's post and pic showing his immaculate pantry, I have decided to share the squalor of mine... Behold:

(one more time...) Why are we leaving?

2008-03-10T20:15:00.010-05:00

Sunday was another beautiful late winter day in New Orleans so Jeff and I took off on our bikes to make ourselves more miserable at the thought of leaving. I never walk out the front door anymore without the camera. You just never know what you're going to see. Some stuff is unbelievably beautiful, like this house above.

And then there is the more bizarre, like this yard completely covered in plastic Mardi Gras beads (left).

I know I would probably be pissed if someone spray painted graffiti all over a building of mine. But I've become fascinated with this stuff. You cannot tell me it isn't art. I've started collecting photos of some of the most amazing graphics. One of the things I like about it is that you might not ever see it again. You might not remember where something was. Or, next time it could be spray painted over by this asshole, the Gray Ghost, who thinks he is being helpful by spraying a hideous shade of flat gray paint over any graffiti he sees. Yeah, right! Random splotches of gray paint on every building in town is more interesting than stuff like this, above.

Early in our ride we ran into this Second Line parade just getting kicked in. These somewhat impromptu parades are a local tradition within the African-American community. It's usually made up of a brass band followed or preceded by groups of very exuberant improvisational dancers. They are in turn followed by the crowd. Everyone joins in and everybody dances. These bands are an indelible part of the soundtrack of life in this bizarre and magnificent place.

Hours later, we ran into the parade again all the way across town.

Riding down a street we had never been on before, not too far from home, we came across this enormous concrete grotto (you can't see inside the cave very well, but there is a big statue, I think, of St. Ann and little Mary - and several baskets of tacky plastic flowers...not that there is anything wrong with that...). Now I'm not Catholic, so I'm sure I don't understand this kind of thing. And don't get me wrong... this kind of weird stuff in the (sort of) modern age that we live in? That's more of what sets us apart. So rock on (no pun intended I swear...)

Just another day in this great place and more and more reasons to question why we have decided to leave.

Your Daily Flannery O'Connor

2008-03-10T15:50:00.001-05:00

"Religion was essentially for those people that didn't have the brains to avoid evil without it."

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-03-07T10:07:00.002-05:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "bamboozle." So here I am in the role of Hapless Everyman in Toiletpaperland at Sam's Discount House of Worship, "bamboozled" into thinking that mass quantities of everything at fabulous savings will change my life. That's even Wal-Mart's slogan: "Save Money. Live Better." Yeah. Right.

2008-03-04T10:14:00.002-05:00

I just read the most powerful piece on the blog 37 Days, which by the way is always amazing. But this post stopped me dead in my tracks. I won't try to copy it here or add to it. Just follow the link and work to make changes. Thanks! (And thanks, Blossom, for turning me on to your dear friends' work!)

Awwwwwwwwwww!!!

2008-03-04T09:41:00.004-05:00

This morning, as Cinderella here dug into the first load of laundry for the day (and let me tell you, a B&B generates A LOT of laundry - it's a glamorous life, but I'm sure you already knew that...) this little critter hopped out when I opened the washer that had run last night. Fortuantely he got washed with a load of bright colors which, of course is always washed in cold. Although he did have to endure a bath of Tide (original scent), he didn't have to slosh around in hot Clorox. But have you ever seen one of these front loaders go through its spin cycle? This little fella had the carnival ride of its life, fo' sho'! Even lost a bit of his tail, which I suppose is in the dryer now with my jeans and t-shirts...

And just when he thought his ordeal was over, I fished him out, ran him upstairs for a mini-photo shoot. "Faggot blogger!"

But he's recouperating in my herb garden now. His skin tone seems a bit washed out but he's on his own and I expect him to make a full recovery. That tail will even grow back which I think is totally cool!

What's that grackel pecking around in my parsely for? Better go check on him!

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-02-29T09:22:00.004-05:00

Glenn and Dave's photo challenge this week is "dissolute." I admit, I had to look that one up and thank god for Google (I'm kinda lazy - my dictionary is in the other room...) So, according to Encarta it means: "overindulging in physical pleasures in a way that is considered immoral or harmful."

That all seems a bit judgemental for my taste. Nevertheless:

I'll just let this picture stand on its own without commentary. Suffice it to say, there are times that sunrise can just be oh so cruel...

2008-02-28T11:26:00.006-05:00

One of the great things about owning a B&B is having an endless array of different kinds of people, all with vastly divergent personalities come in and out of my house every day. (That is also a major thing that sucks about owning a B&B, but I am in an optimistic mood this morning. Stay tuned, that could change at any moment...)

You can learn a lot about yourself by watching others (i.e., if you want to learn how not to be an asshole, spend a lot of time paying attention to assholes and modify behaviour accordingly - yours, not the assholes, although that would be ideal...) I am constantly amazed at the vast numbers of "New Orleans experts" that come through my doors. Although most of them have never been here before. Particularly post-K, it seems everyone is a true New Orleansaphile.

I get an endless barrage of FACTS about how badly our local government handled the recovery, deals with out-of-control crime, our obvious corruption and penchant for racism.

It is often assumed that, as a local, I surely must disdain all things touristy like Mardi Gras (!) or JazzFest, etc. Surely we NEVER hang out in the French Quarter. This always comes across as, "Although I have never been here before and have spent about an hour or so
reading Frommer's and
saw something about this place on the Travel Channel, I'm like one of the
locals, ya' know."
That is then often followed by questions about how to get to Hooter's or the Hard Rock Cafe.

So when I travel, I now pay very close attention to how much I think I know when talking with my innkeeper. I assume, in fact hope, that they might know just a wee bit more about their hometown than I do. I try not to make assumptions about what the locals may or may not be into. And if I am fortunate enough to have one of the natives give me an inside tip, I'm very grateful and try to investigate.

As for the whole post-K thing, I have learned so much by having lived through it that could never be conveyed in the sadly twisted and skewed press. Guests walk around my neighborhood and act all sad and shit about how trashy and poor it is. ("You mean they are just now getting around to working on their houses? I swear, if people would stop waiting around for the government to give them a handout they could be all fixed up like you are!" They actually think that is going to make us buds or something.)

I hope to god that I never have to visit a place that has been through what we have been through, but chances are that will happen someday. And when I do, I hope that I am there to listen, learn and, more than anything, HELP: not pass judgement. I will try to remember how much people from the outside world don't know shit about what it's like on the inside of something like this.

Believe it or not, all these yahoos who wander in and out of my business deeply enrich my life, and not just financially. So I am trying to pay attention. Trying to learn.

This reminds me of a great bit of wisdom found on the menu at Clover Grill (and if you've never had one of their burgers grilled under a beat up hubcap at 2:00am, you haven't lived...): "Everyone brings happiness into this business, some when they come in, others when they leave."

2008-02-26T17:53:00.004-05:00

Thank you, Blossom! Now we all know.... but I still think you guys had MUCH more interesting suggestions than "ever." No wonder I didn't mind so much about that slogan.

But what the Scots are lacking in their copy writing, they are more than making up for in their graphics! Beezer, man! Fuckin' beezer!

2008-02-26T08:50:00.003-05:00

I have always felt it important to use this forum, not simply for entertainment, but also as a way to promote the arts, good taste, political dissent as well as the dissemination of important information. Therefore, when this video came across my desk this morning, I felt it my duty to pass it along. Listen to the lyrics, they apply on so many levels...

"Finish the Slogan" Challenge

2008-02-23T09:56:00.004-05:00

OK. Dave and Firehorse both commented on yesterday's post with their ideas about what Scottish Beef might very well be tastier than (see the ad with the skirted hottie below ). Any other suggestions?

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-02-22T09:26:00.003-05:00

This is an advert Jeff and I saw in London tube stations last summer that we were particularly fond of.

OK....I know Glenn and Dave's challenge this week is "slogans." And, yes, I see that the actual slogan got cropped out of the photo. But I think you get the point of what they are trying to sell. Meat. Right?

And besides, aren't you glad I cropped it this way instead of the other?

I do wish I could remember what Scotch beef is supposed to be tastier than, though....

2008-02-21T10:19:00.010-05:00

As a follow-up to Monday's post about the homeless camp we visited:

This morning's Times-Picayune's lead article was about the city's urgent effort to address this situation. The gist is that instead of allowing these people to make a big mess down there under the overpass they are going to warehouse them all in big quonset hut-like tents with triple decker bunks - men in one, women in another. They must be free of drugs and alcohol in order to stay there.

All that sounds great! Right? But what about families? What about families that exist without a marriage license, and my guess is, that is going to be the case from time to time.

What about homeless people with substance abuse problems? Once again, my guess is that happens from time to time. The article states that these people will be directed to rehab programs. And where exactly are those rehab programs in this town? They don't exist even for those that can pay for them.

According to the article, Philip Mangano, director of the White House's Interagency Council on Homelessness, states: " 'We now can solve anyone's homelessness,' he said, with a hubris reflecting the contention of many national poverty experts, that the study of homelessness and its cures has advanced to hard science -- that it can be solved."

I'm no expert on this subject by any means, but over the past many years Jeff and I have dealt with several homeless people on a personal level as well as volunteered from time to time with various shelters. It has been my observation that there are as many different situations that have led these people into this horrible condition as there are homeless individuals. The idea of having a scientific method of "solving anyone's homelessness" is about as idealistic as assuming the Titanic was unsinkable. I hope they are correct.

The article refers to a resident of the encampent, a Mr. Clay who was "drawn to the overpass because do-gooders visit there, bringing blankets, clothes and food. "

Continuing: "Few would fault such charity, but Mangano said he believes that the efforts that go toward such 'drive-by feedings' (love that!) could be better channeled into getting people housing." Fortunately the writer of the TP article has an e-mail address (Katy Reckdahl can be reached at kreckdahl@timespicayune.com or (504)Â¤826-3396) because I intend to find out how I can thus channel our efforts into helping with this problem in a real way.

But, there has to be something better and more realistic than warehouses for the poor. I'm just saying...

2008-02-18T21:32:00.003-05:00

If you want some more info about the situation I described below, here is an interesting article that sort of lays it all out for you.

2008-02-18T10:52:00.004-05:00

Every day I ride my bike past one of the most shameful things I have ever had to witness: an enormous homeless encampment underneath the I-10 overpass just down Canal Street from my house. Now this isn't in some remote out-of-sight, out-of-mind part of town. No, this is Main Street just as you enter the Central Business District.

This camp, made up of I would say at least a hundred or so cheap dome tents, was on the lawn of City Hall until a few weeks ago when they had to move here because the city needed to start work on some building project. So it's not like the powers that be, whatever that means in this Banana Republic, don't know about this little problem.

Riding past this place everyday, I had noticed that this isn't just a place where old drunk men hang out. But it seemed, at least from a distance, more like a small village, with a pretty broad residential demographic: men and women, black and white, young and old. Even families. With little kids. And it's winter! Yes, I know this is New Orleans, but contrary to what you might think, it gets cold here. And it's a damp cold. In fact, a couple of folks froze to death a month or so ago. For real.

This past weekend the eyes of the nation, or at least the eyes of the sports minded, were once again focused on New Orleans for the NBA Allstar crap. Just like they had been a few weeks ago for Mardi Gras. It seemed to me that this would have been a good opportunity for leaders within our community to address this problem. Not sweep it under the rug in order to present a more sterilized, sanitized view to the rest of the world. But to actually do something to help these people. They are suffering and it doesn't make us look like we are taking care of our own to have this painfully obvious situation simply go unaddressed.

In fact, less than two blocks away is an ENORMOUS shutterred public housing project that has just been fenced off and slated for demolition. The buildings that make up this development are clusters of beautiful pre-war townhouses made of brick with terra cotta tile roofs. And they are going to tear them down, presumably because they don't meet code, or it would be easier to rebuild than to renovate. Or it's because some cockamamie focus grouped idea that we need to provide mixed income residential areas built out of crappy materials in a New Orleans style so that people can feel better about themselves.... whatever! How about just fucking house these poor folks there in these perfectly fine builidings and figure out the feel good , pop psychology theory of the day solution later! People are starving and freezing to death right on the doorstep!

So, yesterday Jeff , our buddy Dave and I were hanging out in the Quarter and while I was in the restroom, they decided that we should go get some food and take it out there to these poor folks. When I came back I was a bit shocked but thought that might be a good idea. But as usual, I was the group skeptic. I had images from some old UNICEF commercial, you know the one where some white guy in a truck is trying to hand out loaves of bread to a roiling horde of staving children, and by god, there just isn't enough to go around. I wasn't sure what would happen next, and I ain't Jesus who can feed the five thousand with just a few loaves and fishes. I'm ashamed to say also, I wasn't ready to end my good time quite yet and this was going to be quite a buzz kill. I mean, they'll still be hungry tomorrow. Right? I know... I'm a shit.

Well, they let me have my say, and then said, "So where do we go get some pizzas?"

Pizza boxes in hand we made our way into the encampment saying hello and offering slices. Everybody was obviously delighted but also equally delightful. These were not drug raged psychos. They didn't even seem fazed by three well dressed white boys within their midsts. They were just glad to have some food. No one made a run for more than their share. And when the pizza all too quickly ran out, without enough to go around, there were no harsh words or anything threatening at all. Of course not.

Dave struck up a conversation with a very nice couple stranded out there with their two year old son, Enoch. He played in his stroller, eating the bits of pizza Dad handed down to him as he told us their story about why they were out there. Enoch squirmed in and out of the stroller and toddled around the group of grown ups, obviously just like any other kid when the parents talk and talk and talk. This could have been me with my daughter 18 years ago.... there but by the grace of god, and all that.

Anyway, I'm glad we got off our butts and did something instead of just sitting around pontificating about the problems of our city. But it wasn't much. I mean five pepperoni pizzas don't amount to much when you've got a village to feed. A village of real flesh and blood people simply down on their luck and completely fogotten in plain site.

What to do?

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-02-15T10:02:00.002-05:00

Glenn and Dave's challenge this week was "lychnobite." Dave has defined that as "one who labors at night and sleeps in the day." In this town, that ain't much of a challenge to find.

Last night Jeff and I went to Antoine's for V-Day (although I have lived here or nearby most of my life I had never been there before - trying to cross things off my list before we move away...). When we were leaving, although Mardi Gras was only a little over a week ago, there was an impromptu parade pouring out of One Eyed Jack's just down the street, complete with brass band and costumed revelers.

We couldn't help ourselves so we joined in right behind them, second lining all the way through the Quarter, decked out in much less interesting attire than they, me slinging my doggy bag of half a chunk of Filet Mignon around and around, till they disappeared into the Whirling Dirvish on Decatur Street.

Now I reckon these musicians could be considered to be lychnobites. After all they do work at night, but I have no way of knowing if they actually sleep during the day or not. Around here, one dare not make such presumptions....

2008-02-14T17:28:00.006-05:00

When I was a kid I was haunted by the words to Janice Ian's "At Seventeen."

"I learned the truth at seventeen

that love was meant for beauty queens ...

the Valentine's I never knew

the Friday night charades of youth

were spent on one more beautiful

at seventeen I learned the truth...."

That was so about me. And the song went on to catalog the list of my inadequacies ("To those of us who knew the pain, of Valentines that never came, and those whose names were never called when choosing sides for basketball...") and fears ("those of us with ravaged faces, lacking in the social graces desperately remained at home...") and the lack of hope for any future other than one miserable and desperately alone.

Of course, I missed the more cynical, ironic point of the song: "Remember those who win the game, loose the love they sought to gain..." I was too focused on my awkardness and desperation at the cruelties of puberty. Being scrawny, gap-toothed and pimply was bad enough. But add the secret of my lurking homosexuality and there's no wonder I had little hope for happiness in the far distant future.

Flash forward and I'm getting ready to go on a date with Jeff, probably the best catch anyone could possibly imagine. Now it's been seventeen years of endless days talking, talking, talking - never running out of things to say to each other - magnificent holidays around the world; a bazillion knock down, drag out fights; countless doubts about the future of this arrangement; nights and nights and nights curled against each other to keep out the cold; days and days and days discovering new things about each other and figuring out how to keep it all fresh, and some of those being pretty unconventional yet fantastic.....

Even with all that I still remember that sad, scared little kid who doubted the future. And I think that's good. All that crap is "long ago and far away, the world was younger than today, and dreams were all they gave for free, to ugly duckling (boys) like me."

But that wasn't the end of the story! Remeber what happens to ugly ducklings...

God, I love the New Yorker...

2008-02-14T17:18:00.002-05:00

2008-02-12T09:29:00.000-05:00

This almost made me cry.

I have been extremely ambivalent about this whole long protracted race for the nomination until I saw Obama's victory speech after the South Carolina primary. For the first time in my memory I heard a leader speak, seemingly from the heart, with courage, conviction and hope. To all of us. For all of us. Is this the way people felt after hearing from Abraham, Martin and John?

Like so many, I have become very cynical about politics and especially about politicians during the Reign of Terror we have had to endure.

And it isn't just because of the asshole in the White House. Local politics here in New Orleans tends to be more about race than leadership. The senseless divisivness we have endured as a nation ever since Clinton 1 was in office has worn me out.

So I have intentionally just shut it all out. I figured I would just let them verbally beat the shit out of each other until they had winnowed the field down to the two or three that I would eventually have to decide between anyway. Turns out, I was correct. I'm SO glad I have not wasted my brain cells on this crap for the past year and a half.

Now we are down to the two little Indians, Hillary and Obama. Time will tell...

2008-02-12T08:56:00.000-05:00

Favorite things heard, overheard, said, etc. during Carnival

2008-02-11T11:18:00.000-05:00

Slidell, upon seeing a friend's new boyfriend: "Eugh! He traded in a Hummer for a shot-out Datsun!"

Me (getting caught in a dark corner of the St. Ann ball without my platform go-go boots on): "I just couldn't take it anymore. I've got a corn the size of Texas."
Richard: "No. You have a corn the size of Kansas. Corn grows in Kansas."
After my look of amazement, Richard: "I know... I just can't make it stop."

Drunk lady walking past us as we made our way, dressed as raccoons, to the Brigid Ball in Treme: "I's gonna has a bath, then I's goin' out for a beer, me!"

The Parties of Carnival '08

2008-02-08T09:53:00.000-05:00

This Year's Costumes

2008-02-07T18:13:00.001-05:00

Indiana Bones and Marion Ravenwood along with Buster and Milo at Barkus

(that was the theme...I suppose otherwise this would seem sorta random)

Two racoons at the Radical Faerie's Brigid Ball
(the theme was Grey Gardens, hence...)

Society of St. Ann Ball
(don't ask...)

Lundi Gras slouching towards the Purple Party
(Slidell and me)

Mardi Gras

Any wonder I kept all of my costumes, even after they had sat under Katrina water for a couple of weeks? I guess it's just something you gotta live here to understand!

2008-02-06T15:48:00.000-05:00

The pictures will have tell the proverbial 1,000 words. I'm just too tired to try... But I think it is safe to say it was perhaps the best Carnival and Mardi Gras ever! (go to bryan pics for more photos from the last few days.)

Happy Mardi Gras!

2008-02-05T08:32:00.000-05:00

"Meet me in cognito, Baby!

In cognito we'll have nothing to hide!"

-Tom Robbins from "Jitterbug Perfume"

Glenn and Dave's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-02-01T09:40:00.001-05:00

Since I own a bed and breakfast, how could I not participate (Glenn and Dave's challenge this week was "breakfast.") So here is what my guests eat:

And here is the crap that I eat:

2008-01-31T14:48:00.000-05:00

Now anywhere else in the world this would either look like grafitti or perhaps a public works project. But no! Not here. This is about claiming personal territory on the neutral ground (median to you non-natives) in anticipation of Saturday night's Endymion parade - the biggest and one of the grandest of the super krewes (another term that I suppose doesn't translate...) - read: big parade.

It used to be that folks would start staking out territory with persian rugs, old sofas, cobbled together barricades days, sometimes weeks, in advance of this parade. Which of course was TOTALLY illegal, not that that made any difference. I don't have to go through all this because my house is on the parade route. I already have some pretty choice real estate designated for me and my guests complete with toilets and kitchen and bedrooms, should one need it... Not to mention a kick ass raised porch / reviewing stand.

But what is so cool about all this is, despite the fact that these territorial demarkations have no legal bearing (well, not mine - it is actually recorded in city hall), this actually works. This is all public property. People can go anywhere they want, right? But they generally don't. The crowd will actually repect these temporary bits of imaginary private property. At least until the parade starts. Then it's pretty much everyone for themselves. I love that!

2008-01-28T09:15:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, the sun finally came out after four or five dreary wet, cold winter days just in time for Milo (our black lab) and Buster (the yellow one) to march in the annual Barkus Parade. This year's theme was "Indiana Bones and Raiders of the Lost Bark" so naturally Jeff took the Indiana role and (hopefully) not so naturally, I took on the Marion Ravenwood role. The boys don't costume well so they wore cool goggles (for about 15 minutes) and doggy bandannas (I know, not very clever or thematic, but dogs have a much higher sense of grace and style than we humans do.)

I agonized for days about what to wear until I found this hideous sequin evening gown in our boxes of donated costumery that we keep down in the basement. It fit me like a glove (in fact, once while I was waiting in line to pee, the woman standing next to me asked, "Is that custom?" to which I responded "I'm not that tragic!"

When we first arrived I had a minor anxiety attack when I saw so few humans in costume and, of course, no one else in drag. I don't think I had really thought too much about it. We will put on a costume and strut around in public, actin' a fool, for pretty much any reason. But this was the first time I had ever done drag in the Quarter (yeah, I know... that should make one nervous - no one ever sees a man in a dress in the French Quarter!) Nevertheless, my trepidation melted away before we had even left the parking lot.

The dogs had a wonderfultime gorging themselves on the endless supply of treats offered by those watching the procession. Of course, they still demanded dinner when we got home!

Jeff did a great job being the straight man in our little group. He made a pretty hot Indy, too!

I haven't had that much fun in years, flirting with everyone, man and woman alike. (At one point a woman in the crowd called out, "Babe, you're gorgeous! I want that dress!" To which I replied, "Thanks, I want your husband. He's gorgeous, too!" He just beamed.) I should've worn a dress years ago!

Several people commented on my facial hair, lack of makeup (except lipstick, Jungle Red, of course!) and hiking boots. I always told them, "I'll put on a dress, but I won't be a woman!"

Favorite overheard comment of the day, said by a not-unattractive middle aged woman: "Damn, look at that. I wouldn't look that good in that dress!"

Dave and Glenn's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-01-25T08:55:00.001-05:00

Dave and Glenn's challenge this week was "bar rooms." Last night, at Whiskey Blue, was probably the last time I get to see my buddy, Greg, spinning records for a while so I felt this would be an excellent chance to document a bittersweet closing to some really great times.

I've added some more pics from last night to my Flickr site, bryan pics, as well.

In response to Junk Thief's writing assignment...

2008-01-22T18:18:00.000-05:00

Junk Thief's assignment: Write an introduction -- a sentence, paragraph, headline, teaser, whatever -- to one of the three cover stories.

So, as intro to "Shocking Mardi Gras Parties"

A large boy, surprisingly handsome in a red taffeta merry widow, answered the massive oak door to the decaying double galleried Greek revival mansion on Royal Street. Shooting us a pregnant sideways glance he vanished up the long, sagging cypress staircase into the gloom above the long side hall. Half way up he laughed loudly to no one in particular, laughter that years ago I would probably have assumed was meant for me.

Sam was easy to find, despite the pressing crowd of jesters, whores, pontiffs, devils, insects and leather daddies. His back was holding up the door casing between the first and second parlors. I didn’t recognize him at first even though he was one of the few not wearing a costume. He had just shaved off his black beard I was so fond of and that change was mask enough. Although it was still early he already had the glassy eyes and goofy, shit eating grin from one or two too many rum and Cokes. That rummy grin grew an inch or two broader as we rounded the corner and came into the room. We were glad we had come.

Mr. Okra

2008-01-22T11:46:00.000-05:00

For months now I keep hearing a strange undecipherable voice resonating through the neighborhood from what sounds like a cheap bullhorn. I figured it was some crazy holy-roller preacher man wandering around proclaiming the end of the world. All I could ever make out, in a rhythmic monotonous, yet somewhat lilting tune, was, "I got huhnn-yonun. You need some Oh - oh..." What the hell is he screamin' about? Peace like a river?

So this morning I grabbed my camera and went off in search of this whack-o, figuring this would be a great photo-op. Luckily for me, he was just across the street.

Last night Jeff and I watched this great show on PBS about New Orleans' history. One of the great things about life here used to be the various street vendors that wandered around from the French Quarter to Uptown selling everything from flowers to rags to fruits and vegetables. In fact, there is still at least the Pie Lady who roams the Quarter singing out, "pie laaa-DEEEE!" at the top of her lungs. I keep meaning to stop and get one but my waistline tells me "NO!" (I gotta get over that shit...)

Well. it turns out the "crazy preacher man" I was expecting to find is Mr. Okra. He drives around in his painted pick-up selling the most beautiful produce, some of which is his home grown!

Thank god so much in this town continues to change - for the better. But I praise Jesus more for the wonderful things that stay the same!!

2008-01-22T10:26:00.000-05:00

And speaking of "Carmina Burana" (see yesterday's post below...) Jeff reminded me of a conversation we overheard one night while sitting in a movie theatre waiting to see the first installment of "Lord of the Rings." The opening "O Fortuna" played loudly in an attempt to add gravity and drama to what was probably an advert for a plumbing company, party supply store or maybe even a paintball arena. Don't remember. Doesn't matter... Anyway, there was an elderly couple sitting in front of us talking very loudly about everything that came up on the screen. (I couldn't imagine how this was going to work once the movie started - particularly this film!) An obviously somewhat put-out queen sat right next to them and I could tell he had pretty low expectations about how much he would be enjoying his movie night considering his seat mates (he couldn't move, I suppose, because the theatre was already full).

Grandma: "What is that music? I know I've heard it before."
Granpa: "I don't know. It's satanic."
G'ma: "Oh, I know. It's from the Miss America Pageant."
G'pa: "It sounds satanic."
Put-out queen: "It's from Carl Orff's 'Carmina Burana!'"
after a pregnant pause...
G'ma: "Oh, I bet you'd be good at crossword puzzles!"

Fortunately the lights went down and the movie started.

(p.s. the two old folks talked all the way through the movie. I don't think they got it... Poor, put-out queen!)

2008-01-21T17:07:00.000-05:00

I spent the better part of this afternoon over a hot stove making an incredible winter vegetable soup that Jeff and I love to eat on cold winter nights. With no guests at the inn (thank Christ!) I put Carl Orff's "Carmina Burana" on the stereo and cranked the volume to near the threshold of pain, as this is really the only proper way to listen to this piece and cook. At one rather bombastic point, while waiting for my leeks to wilt, I walked onto the back porch to enjoy some cool sunshine and noticed a gaggle of neighborhood boys playing basketball across the street. Now I know how sound carries from the speakers on my elevated back porch when I play music this loud. It could've been my imagination, but I think, a couple of times, I saw them stop, look over here in a sort of "what-the-fuck" kind of way. Then do some kick ass maneuvering to the music. I'm pretty sure this was not their typical soundtrack for afternoon pick up b-ball but I do hope they enjoyed it!

2008-01-20T18:54:00.000-05:00

Well, Carnival is kicking in. Went to the first parade last night (OK, there actually have been other parades out in the 'burbs already, or out in da parish, as the old timers around here still say, but I am a total snob and, if the parade don't roll through the streets of the city, it ain't a real parade to me!) Krewe de Vieux is always first and is the most outrageous, tacky, risque, inappropriate, mischievous, and therefore, of course, the most fun (pretty much) of them all. The theme this year was "Magical Misery Tour" so all the groups played around with Beatles stuff usually skewering the local politicos as obnoxiously and lewdly as possible.
It had been rainy and cold as hell for the past two days so wasn't sure this would be a nice night to be out. But by late afternoon, the wind had died down and the sky cleared making for a beautiful, yet chilly evening.

Several parties. Lots of friends. Crazy drunks. Stumbling around bad parts of town. Mooning over how much I love this place and hate to leave it. Just another night in New Orleans

Tugboat Cap'n's Weekly Photo Challenge

2008-01-18T09:34:00.000-05:00

In response to my buddy Dave's photo challenge I took my camera out to the cemeteries at the end of Canal Street last Sunday morning. It was one of those crisp Louisiana winter days with cool air and no discernible humidity. The sky was the most outrageous shade of deep blue and the light was clear and intense.

Although most burials around here are above ground I noticed that is not so much the case in the Jewish cemeteries. I figured that must have something to do with their religion or something. So there was a wonderful contrast between these Catholic and Jewish graves, sometimes all mixed up together.

I spent the better part of a couple of hours wandering through three cemeteries and had the greatest time. There is something about a camera that forces you to pay attention to details you might otherwise miss. I am posting three pics here, but if you are interested, I have posted several others to my Flickr site, "bryan pics."

2008-01-17T18:42:00.000-05:00

I'll just let Mr. Huckabee speak for himself:

December 30th, on Meet The Press:

"I've never tried to come out with some way of imposing a doctrinaire Christian perspective in a way that is really against the Constitution. I’ve never done that."

January 14th (click here for the video if you don't believe me), speaking to evangelical supporters in Michigan:

"What we need to do is to amend the Constitution so that it's in God's standards rather than try to change God's standards so that it lines up with some contemporary view of how we treat each other and how we treat the family."

You do the math...

2008-01-16T09:55:00.000-05:00

The quote below was a post-script from a dear friend's email message. Now, I know it isn't meant to literally be about guests in one's house, but it is amazing how these words do apply quite literally in that situation, too, at least for me.

I have been struggling, of late, to keep a good healthy attitude about my guests here at the B&B. Although I am grateful for their business - after all it does help keep me in the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed - I sometimes wish they would all just stay home and leave me alone! I've just been at this for too long and am ready for a normal life. I'm not really sure what that means or what that would look like but I do have romantic notions about sleeping late on Saturday, not answering the phone if I don't want to and hosting house guests that I actually know and care about. I've even begun fantasizing about what it would be like to go to work for someone else and work regular hours! (Shows you the depth of my disease...) I'm pretty sure I will live to regret all this and, once things change and the reality of that life kicks in, I'll wonder why I thought this situation was so bad.

So, I'm working on my attitude, trying to enjoy what I have now while I still have it. I struggle to find interest in each and every guest that comes through my door. And let me tell you, often that can be quite a struggle. I know that everyone has their story. My job is to convince myself that I care to hear it!

"This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a
depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently
sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He
may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the
malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful
for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond." --Rumi 1207-1273

Life in the electronic age

2008-01-15T11:29:00.000-05:00

OK...just got a notice from the apparently electronically challenged Louisiana Department of Revenue stating that I didn't pay my sales tax for several different months last year. Now I am very anal about paying my taxes on-line on the fifteenth of every month to avoid any interest and penalties. I'm a good boy.

So I figured this would be easy enough to clear up. I have print-outs on file for each month showing the date and amount to be electronically transferred from my bank. The(not-so-nice) "customer service" lady on the phone who took my call after a 15 minute hold (I was #25 in the queue) sent me to another department because this was not her problem. That transfer went immediately into someone's voice mail box that was full. The call then got bumped to another voice mail box - also full. Then the call went into outer space. After about 100 rings I got the point...

So, I called the "customer service" number again and went into hold hell (this time #30 in the queue). When they finally took the call this lady was even nastier. While on hold I had enough time to call my bank and have them look up the transactions in question only to be told that there had not been any! So it seems that although I had done my job and taken the time to file on-line the great state of Louisiana didn't realize that it was then their responsibility to actually get the money out of my account.

Come to find out, they didn't bother to transfer any taxes from my account for the entire fucking year!

"Well, didn't you check your bank account to find out whether or not we transferred the funds?" was her very helpful query.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I wanted to say. (I didn't...) We do all of our banking and bill paying on-line these days. If I had to follow up on each transaction that would take more time that writing a check and taking it to the post office for snail mail delivery! Isn't that what this was suppose to replace?

So now I have an entire year's worth of taxes to re-do and I'll be damned if they will get any interest or penalties out of me!

The delicious irony of all this is that while on interminable hold I was reminded at least ten times: "We are experiencing very high call volume at this time. If you would like to avoid long hold times, please go to www.revenue.louisiana.gov. From there you will be directed to your "Taxpayer Access Point" where you can pay your taxes on-line. Thank you and have a great day!"

Great idea!

UPDATE: Upon further investigation, turns out my account had been debited for the tax each month. So who the hell knows what the troglodites at the state revenue bureau did with the money! And guess how much I don't care!!! Their problem, isn't it?