Locked in a room down in New Orleans

The Doobie Brothers - Toulouse Street

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Merry Christmas

Lived to see another one..

I posted this melancholy Christmas song last year on my other blog. It was a very low time for me. Missing my daughter, unemployed, hungry and on the verge of being homeless it was a bleak holiday season to say the least.  Well, I stuck it out for my kid's sake in spite of my desire to to cash in my chips off the bridge into the Mississippi.  Glad I did.

A year later, my rent is paid, my belly is full and artistically I am making money at what I love. I'm living in paradise. When I use that term, keep in mind homeless guys crap on my doorstep, gang members murder each other a block from my apartment and I think a rodent stole my Zippo lighter last night. Still I wouldn't want to live anyplace else on Earth. 

I still miss my only child to the point of tears. Especially this time of year. As much as I love New Orleans, I will say that New York City does Christmas just a little bit bigger. So a year later, I'll repost this video, and this year it carries a whole different tune for me. I hope you enjoy.

Dancing Police horse

I love sharing these kind of YOUTUBE videos with my daughter back in New Jersey.  "Yea, this video was made about 5 blocks from my apartment."

Smoked Turkey

I got out of the Quarter for Thanksgiving, to the Marigny. No airports, no traffic jams, just a 15 minute walk to Frenchman Street. I was  fortunate enough to get an invite from my friend Chris to join him at one of the coolest guest houses in the Fauboug  Marigny on Frenchman Street. His landlady Noni is a sweatheart who is a lovable  hostess that made me feel like family. The atmosphere was sophisticated but casual with polite and smart guests. Musicians, teachers, artists and professionals all enjoying great food and great conversation.

Compared to the deeply depressing holiday season I had last year, I was going to be content with staying home and splurging on a turkey po boy followed by a Hubig Apple Pie. I had to fight my hermit like nature to accept the invite and I was glad I did.  Noni's son made a pork roast that was unlike anything I ever had. Pork roast stuffed with Boudin sausage, wrapped with bacon and cooked in a smoker.  Chris played his classical guitar as we passed the smoked turkey. 

We dined outside in an immaculate courtyard, actually the entire house was a piece of art in itself. Beautifully decorated with a real sense of peace and tranquility about it. Noni runs this guest house and is a fantastic hostess. Many of her guests are production people in town shooting film or television productions. The location and atmosphere of the place make it a perfect place to escape the hectic workplace of a  film shoot. I won't mention specific names of productions, but you would recongnize titles.




I enjoyed listening to musicians discuss music, and I had a civil intelligent discussion with a jazz drummer about politics and the Occupy Wall Street movement. We did both agree the Coca Cola brothers should be bitch slapped.  I know I have made some new friends.

Anyone visiting from out of town, look into staying here. Not to come across like some maudlin promotional piece, but Noni and company would make a stay at a great city even better. Frenchman Street is where the locals of NOLA congregate to enjoy the best of New Orleans music, culture and people. Entirely differant feel from my part of town by Bourbon Street. Frenchman has a mellow energy that one would expect from the "hipster" side of town.

Noni and Company

This what you can find on Frenchman Street most any weekend night. A few blocks down from Noni & Company. Far enough away that it won't keep you awake, but close enough to grab your drinks and walk down to listen on a warm night. (Don't forget to tip your musicians)

About ten minutes ago....

About ten minutes ago, my neighbor Richard (he's kind of our version of Kramer) starts tapping on doors and yelling like there was a UFO hovering over Bourbon Street. 

Not that UFOs ever really get noticed over Bourbon Street. You watch where you walk, and if you dare  look up you might get a face full of beads or piss.  

He yells "There's a parade coming, cop cars are passing Bourbon now." Six feet away from our front door.

Ok, if it's that close, I'll go watch it. Imagine if you went out the front door of your house and found an all girl parade in your driveway. You would have to at least stick your head out the door and watch. 

The all female krew MOLASSES had a great parade down Toulouse tonight. I grabbed my simple camera and set it on auto. Here are the photos.

Eat your heart out New Jersey.

Television in the French Quarter, Why?

Like an ex smoker who is quick to mouth off when someone lights up, or a self righteous recovered alcoholic bragging about how many years he has been dry, I'm going off on Television. Finally having a place of my own there is no longer the drone of a TV constantly in the background. I'll admit when given access to one I have 24 hour news going during my waking hours. Determined to break that bad habit, especially in these days of  24 hour conflicts, riots, economic crisis and impending doom I made a choice of turning down a free television offered to me for my new place.

This video was shot about 100 feet from my front door. 

I live in the most entertaining city in the nation, if not the world. Why would I want to sit in my apartment and stare at a video feed of corporate sponsored, agenda driven mindless fluff? I do watch a couple YOUTUBE videos and news features before bed, but just waiting for them to load causes me to grow impatient and retire.  Most nights I get restless and go for a stroll. On any given night I can catch blues, jazz, folk, rock musicians, magicians, jugglers or acrobatic break dancers. I understand very few people have this blessing of live entertainment literally outside their front door, I hope I never become blase' about living in the Quarter.

This is where I do my grocery shopping.

I'd be surprised if you could get cable television for under $50 a month, so I make it a point to drop a buck in the tip bucket when I really enjoy a performance. That's only $30 a month for the best live performances every night of the week. On my long three block walk home from work, I pass Grandpa Elliott every night on the corner of Toulouse and Royal. How can I complain that when I "make groceries" at Rouses market, and I have to push through a small crowd gathered on the sidewalk watching musicians. That's a minor inconvenience for living here.

The CVS Pharmacy is a nightly stop for smokes.

I know that if I lived back in the gray dreary suburbs of New Jersey I would probably have a television just to numb my mind enough to get to sleep at night. In my opinion having a television when living in the French Quarter would be like living in the Playboy Mansion and sneaking in a copy of Hustler magazine to my room. It just ain't right.