november 23: night

arrived a couple of hours ago to find fair weather & a wonderful hostess at our bed & breakfast. she handed us off some tips on things to do/see & then let us alone in our ridiculously quaint room -- quite lovely, all antiques and mismatched furniture. this used to be a bordello, and we are staying in the former reception room -- in which the ladies showed off their considerable wares for purchase.

the flights were uneventful & almost disturbingly perfect. i love flying under clear skies -- i was able to gaze at much of the mississippi's path as we headed first to chicago and then to new orleans.

spirits = high. uncannily, on our first flight, i was wondering aloud to sprocket whether or not our flight attendant was transgendered when our fellow rowmate piped up and shared that she was, in fact, intersexed. the conversation then spiraled into a discussion of the socialization of gender -- the construct of gender identification and how unforgivingly black/white the concepts of sexual orientation/identification are. it was fascinating to speak with someone who has led an open life as an intersexed individual, because it's still such an incredible taboo in society.

i suppose that one could look at it from an evolutionary perspective -- that we are beginning to collectively understand/embrace the multiplicity of gender beyond the constructs of basic genetic survival.

as i write, sprocket is readying herself for some exploration of this city.

november 24: day

after waking in this timeless zone of our room -- the external shutters which must remain closed for "insurance purposes" cut out all the sunlight -- and showering in the converted cast iron bathtub, we strolled along esplanade & into the quarter -- eventually stumbling into cafe du monde and stimulating ourselves with mounds of powdered sugar beignets & stout chicory coffee.

last night we explored one of the suggested brink-of-the-quarter sections of town: frenchman's street, on the edge of the semi-bohemian district of faubourg marginy. it's bordered by the wonderful avenue 'elysian fields,' which inspires no small amount of grandiloquence in my mind's eye.

the remainder of this afternoon was spent strolling about the french farmer's & flea markets and a few other shops in the lower quarter. purchases were limited -- a new studded leather belt and a variation of egyptian musk essential oil -- but its always amusing to peruse the variety of touristy artifacts a location proffers as adequate remembrance of one's visit.

one of the more memorable shops was a masquerade house, which designed handmade leather masks for mardi gras. they were breathtaking -- and, of course, photographs were strictly forbidden.

we have just awoken from a nap and now sprocket is industriously rooting through her wardrobe in preparation for this evenings outing -- african bellydancing & some blues, if we're lucky.

the weather has continued to remain fair and as i recalled from my previous excursion here at this time of year -- sunny, clear, warmish, but almost bonechilling when the sun fades. the scents of this city are reminiscent of all its incarnations -- i am consistently reminded of various scattered moments: previous experiences (both mine and a host of others') traveling into my subconscious via nostril & tongue -- providing the illusion that hundreds of seconds are colliding all at once & i am vividly experiencing/marking for memory only a fraction. of course, that is what is happening -- all the time -- but perhaps, in new orleans, you are more aware of the consuming chaos functioning just out of reach of the agreed upon concepts of "time."

fascinating, really.

november 24: night

wonderful club: blue nile -- with an expressly middle eastern/northern african design, hinting at marrakech. the bellydancers were lovely, claro, with the costume design of tribal/gypsy dancers.

we are now in a jazz bistro called snug harbor waiting for some vittles & discussing where to head next.

november 25: pre-dawn

it is one a.m. and we have just returned from blue nile -- some amazing jazz was to be had! it never ceases to thrill me when i am blessed with the experience of talented musicians grooving to their art -- it's the same the world over. while in the club, i fantasized about a number of far off places & imagined one day sitting in a bar, listening to the strains of music, feeling alternately connected and engrossed by the experience, and recalling this fantastical evening with breathtaking clarity.

as i lie here in my queen's bed, mosquito netting and lemony lamps draping my view, i can't help but feel glee as to how wonderful life has been evolving as of late. i feel more integrated as the days pass. it's strange for me to assess my life & actually be content -- not miss or keep or desperately hope for more. no doubt it's the calm before a storm and i must enjoy it while it lasts.

november 25: day

this afternoon was spent hanging about magazine street, with its handful of interesting shops and absolutely un-touristed flair. it is peculiar to be in a place that is peopled almost entirely by tourists -- i have enjoyed the brief reprieve that eating pizza on the sidewalk a fair way out in the residential neighborhoods has provided. a pleasant walk and i was thrilled to find a stationary shop which sells the tassotti journals that i love so much -- i had to buy them out of stock.

we took the bus up the entirety of magazine and then strolled back a good portion of it. we returned the quarter & drank guinness and mocked the game of pool with our shoddy "skill" in an irish pub on decatur. sprocket won both games by my error -- myself and the eight ball do not a happy pair make, it would seem.

so far, the relaxed nature of this trip has been splendid, and i have been enjoying the time with sprocket. part sight-seeing, part meditation, the city feels empty and rife with inspirational visuals.

november 25: night

we started out at adolpho's italian eatery, then strolled up the street to el matador. i loved this club! we drank cocktails and listened to the funky down-home blues-billy sounds of jeremy lyons & the deltabilly boys. splendid!

an excellent chat with sprocket reminds me how often and wonderfully she surprises me. i dig her company & tease her that she's quiet so often because she's plainly & serenely contemplating her vast knowledge. actually, i don't think that's very far from the truth.

it's humid tonight. mmmm.

tomorrow: the bayou.

november 27: day

yesterday was incredible -- and absent of a moment to sit and write.

the first adventure of the day: swamps. we hiked down to a different b&b on dauphine for the pickup and ended up running into the filming of a movie starring gene hackman. the concierge at the b&b waxed rather unpoetically on the large number of films made in the quarter, but one can't help not feeling one is on a movie set while walking through those streets, so it comes with the territory, i suppose.

our tour guide couldn't make it into the b&b and then it turned out that the folks who had booked the tour to begin with had canceled their reservations and so it was sort of lucky that we had called him that day, otherwise he'd have come down to the city for nothing.

our tour guide looked conspicuously like dennis hopper and was, of course, named denny. he was essentially peculiar, perhaps from too much time spent in the bayou, the swamp corroding his perhaps already limited social skillset. originally from minneapolis, he is a biology professor who moved to louisiana in 1979 to teach and then was confronted with the harsh reality of a $17,500 annual income. he decided, instead, to go into business for himself and has since become the steward for the natural lands around the honey island swamp reserve.

his humor bordered on bitter and he offered strange nuggets of information, but it contributed to the surreality of traveling upriver in a canoe, the spanish moss and straining sunlight coloring everything in a muted watercolor. wildlife was scarce, unfortunately, but the calm of paddling through that environment was delicious.

the tour was accompanied with a mini road trip to and fro slidell, louisiana. the country is so flat there, and driving over the ludicrously small lake pontchartrain bridge was breathtaking.

upon return to new orleans, we strolled down to jackson square and hooked up with a ghost story tour of the quarter. it was great fun! the most vivid tale of the lot was regarding one madame dauphine lalaurie, and insatiable sadist married to a "experimental" doctor, who, it was rumored, specialized in creating sideshow freaks. one of my favorite tidbits learned was the rather amusing laws of the french market, which were so volatile that they ruled themselves -- it wasn't illegal to kill someone within the market, only to leave their corpse behind you when you left.

we stopped off in a bar during the tour -- the whirling dervish -- on the corner of barracks and decatur, which we dug so much, we returned there after the tour. the bathroom had this kickass black & pink gauze ceiling -- i would draw it but would surely not do it justice -- but should record it here to jog my memory later, as i'd love to utilize the technique at some point in a space of my own.

we then proceeded to knock back far too many cocktails & enjoyed a raucous time with our bemusing bartender, the male lesbian flasher from mobile alabama that took a shining to sprocket, and a collection of other fascinating local folk -- including mishi & her partner, who held court amongst us whilst knitting a scarf and recounting randomly lovely tales.

surrealism: sprocket on the dance floor, disco ball whirling, performing kung fu formations, with joey the bartender filming the whole thing.

somehow we managed to get home, & that's a testament to our survival skills as neither of us have the least recollection of the venture. no twisted ankles -- which, in this city with crumbling sidewalks and uprooted bricks, is actually a bit of a miracle.

november 28: night

unfortunately, too hungover to continue with the transcription yesterday. we spent the remainder of that afternoon recuperating from our licentiousness, and then ordered a pizza and watched some silly movies on cable. rather relaxing, actually.

i had insanely vivid dreams all night, however, which only added to the hangover i believe. the dreams were actually terrifying -- i woke up realizing that someone else was in the bed with me, and then i jumped out and tried to get into the bathroom but the hook wouldn't unlatch and i strained on it for several excruciatingly frightening moments before i fled the room. i went into the bathroom from the hallway entrance and, after calming myself on the cold floor for awhile, i returned to the room incredibly confused by what was going on. where was sprocket? who was in my bed? i crossed the room and snapped on the light, only to find her in her bed and my bedcovers mussed so impressively -- with two rumpled exits -- that i had to lie there with the light on for a few hours before i could talk myself into falling asleep again. it was as vivid and breathtaking as the phantom party that took place beneath me in the house in ireland seven years ago -- a keen sense that whatever i was experiencing was simply not of the same dimension/time, and the initial shock, and then acceptance of the nonlinear aspects of all things. but, it was terrifying.

during our brief foray into the public, sprocket told me that i have a skewed perception of myself which is holding me back. when i said that i think i have a realistic perception of myself, she said, yes, you would think that. thinking about it, it seems the most difficult thing to transcend since you can't identify what it is about yourself that is a misconception.

this afternoon, we took the ferry across the mississippi to algiers pointe, the second oldest settlement in this area, after the quarter. since today is thanksgiving, the streets were empty and it was akin to a ghost town, which afforded the feeling that we were all alone in the world, in this magnificently rotting city, with nothing but our cameras to record the passing moments. when we returned, the quarter was nearly empty as well and i wished all the cars would be removed, it would only add to its splendor.

tomorrow: st. charles streetcar & the garden district.

november 30: night

the streetcar was charming, of course -- so many fabulous houses, mansions built with a wealth astounding even today, i cannot imagine the audacity of the creators a century ago. we traveled up to the garden district and photographed some of the more amazing domiciles, then headed for lafeyette cemetery no. 1, in which the palatable peacefulness & breathtaking degradation captured our imaginations for hours. i don't believe i will ever give up my love for cemeteries.

we then rode all the way to the end of the line, strolled about and collected lunch, then came back the same way. in search for guinness, we were directed to an irish pub on st. ann's that was tiny, vibrant, peopled with only a handful of raucous gents and a lusty barmaid. after throwing some pj harvey onto the jukebox, i was approached by a young woman who wanted to know who i was playing, and then proceeded to regale me with her tales of a fabulous old 45's jukebox she had just acquired due to the financial misfortune of an ex-bodyguard to paul mccartney.

whilst sipping our guinness, we were joined by an irish-cum-australian, brendan, who was in town for a few days after having performed some consultation in houston. we had an incredibly interesting conversation in which we agreed that the united states is very much like what most people would suppose a third-world country is like -- and incredible class system dominated by the obscenely wealthy & fueled by the dishearteningly destitute. a strangled middle-class, really -- one that functions almost entirely on the credit whims of the wealthy. it was great fun to speak with him, as he'd lived in kilkenny as a child and i was able to recount one of my favorite places in the world: atop the monastery's tower, viewing the city and countryside below. freedom, yes.

this afternoon we strolled about the city again, grabbed some beignets, snapped some photos, drank some cocktails, and eventually ended up on frenchman's street and in the spotted cat -- washboard player on a saturday night. a couple is dancing in the doorway as i write, the guitarist convulsing over his instrument, the bartender just made sprocket and i these lovely creamy shots with a south african liqueur, and told a guy that he hated working here as he winked at us. he has all silver teeth, makes me want to lick them.

i stepped into the bathroom a moment ago and upon my return found that sprocket had managed to catch herself an annoying egotistic euro-trash fuck. he's actually intensely amusing to listen to, as he chides her for being essentially boring -- "are you normal, or stupid like every other american?"

just a moment ago, the following interchange occurred: after just finishing his chastisement of her inability to speak on about a wide variety of subjects -- he wasn't offering her anything, mind you, just imploring her to come up with something that wouldn't "bore me again and again!" -- he says, "do you know anything about sports?" sprocket replies that sports do not interest her. he then inquires as to her knowledge of films, to which she replies that she only watches them rarely, and only then for entertainment. exasperatedly, he pounds his hand on the bar and screeches, "no movies! no sports! what the hell are we to talk about?!?!?!" as if this was an immense problem the sprocket needed to resolve.

then the conversation turned to the reality of the situation -- that he was trying to get her to go to bed with him tonight -- and she just basely mocked him and said, "no, i don't think so." after my laughter of the entire interaction, he curtly excused himself and we laughed about how endlessly amusing the self-obsessed are -- oh, and misogynists, they're funny fucking bastards.

only boring people are bored, mi amor.

december 1: pre-dawn

in the hallway of the b&b, swirling on the couch, on the radio. . . .

"happiness please reveal yourself to me -- there is no chains around me yet still i'm not free."

smoky bar, i get sidetracked by the certainty. here on rampart street, my space seems incandescent -- do you ever feel more naked when you've kept all your clothes on?

we left the spotted cat and headed over to the shim sham club on toulouse, where we met chris, a counselor who intrigued sprocket to no end. almost from the first moment, she assaulted him with a volley of questions and he was truly enjoying her curiosity. we went upstairs and i actually just listened to the exchanges before realizing that i had become quite ill from the cigarette smoke and had to leave the hotbox of a balcony in order to actually inhale some oxygen.

it is peculiar to share with someone who is judging you, i'm never quite comfortable with the experience of psychoanalysis. maybe i'm the worse for it, but when someone says to me, "no, i swear i unconditionally love you" it causes me to think that it's actually only because they keep evaluating all my flaws.

the simplest metaphors are often the most profound. strange spaces. i'm standing in a hallway open wide, watching the corridor hovering before me. is there a charm to unconditional love, when at this moment it feels like egocentrism? in the mirror of myself i see all the gaps in the human condition and it kind of makes me ill.

when sharing something with someone who actually has no real interest in it, it reminds how expansive, corruptive, and equally degenerative reality can be.

december 1: day

flights of fancy. i dreamt in a whirlwind last night.

we've readied ourselves for the return to seattle and are drinking tea in a coffeeshop on the corner of kelerec. this has been a splendid journey -- leaving town to get perspective and the soft tread of this adventure has proven both relaxing and insightful.

oh yeah, that's why i dig this so fucking much.