I guess I'm just gettin old....

Today was pay day, two weeks worth. I went right over to pay pay my rent and set aside some for the rest of my immediate bills. Tonight I looked at the rest of my cash with eager anticipation of my big plans for the night, grocery shopping.  I have been planning my trip to Rouses for a week. My front door is fifty feet from Bourbon Street, years ago that would have been the direction to go on pay day. In 2011 it has no appeal to me except for the occasional walk for amusement.

I read  posts from Facebook friends 30 years younger than me of their plans for every night of the week. "Going here, meeting so and so, drinking this or that." God bless you, be careful, and get it out of your system now. I'm sure if they saw my life, I would seem like a boring old fart. I am and proud of it. People my age behaving like twenty somethings are sad and pathetic. I have been living in the French Quarter for a little more than four months, might have gotten drunk  less than a half a dozen times. Can't do it any more. You'll see, I hope.

I chuckled at myself getting ready to go make groceries. Showered, groomed and actually put thought into what to wear. You would have thought that I had a date with Trixi Minx or something. Every purchase was thought out for maximum nutrition for my dollar, no splurges, no treats. This time last year I was so broke that I came down with the scurvy. I know, who gets the scurvy in the 21st century anymore? I had been getting food stamps but 3/4 of my Louisiana Purchase Card each month went towards paying my rent. Fifty dollars a month left for hot dogs and potatoes.

After a diet like that for three months I noticed all I wanted to do was stay in bed, and when I tried to get up every joint in my body ached, my teeth wiggled and I saw a zombie with blotches in the mirror. So tonight going grocery shopping was like a night on the town. No snacks or frozen pizzas, straight to the produce section. Yea, on pay day I lust for cauliflower.  Someone recently said that I should reapply for food stamps, I responded "If I have the money for coffee and cigarettes every day then I can afford to buy my own food. Governor Jindal doesn't owe me a damn thing." In fact, I feel I owe the state and look forward to paying it back someday.

I toyed with the idea of crossing the street to join my friend Otis for a beer at Molly's. I have a full belly, a full day of work behind me, and another full day ahead of me tomorrow so I'll just go to bed. You young kids, go to Bourbon Street and have fun. Spend so much of your money now that someday you'll look back on it and cringe.  If in thirty years you're still doing it, stop and reconsider. You might be surprised at the joy of a simple night out grocery shopping.

God bless you, be careful.

Who Dat!

I had never been a football fan until I moved to New Orleans. Never. I couldn't understand the obsession or the fanaticism. Back in New Jersey, not everyone liked the same teams. At the cab company we had a few Giants fans, an Eagles fan, some guy who loved the Jets and another who liked a mid west team for some strange reason. I used to listen to them perplexed as they would become abusive and belligerent towards each other over sports teams.  "Your team SUCKS!"  "No, your team sucks more! " " They both suck, mine is the best!"  I would silently think to myself, "Are you for real? Why do you base your self esteem on the success or failure of total strangers who couldn't give a shit about how well you do your job?"

I had a passenger ask me once "You a Giants fan?"
"Nope."
"What teams do you like?"
"None."
"NONE?? What do you mean?"
"I don't follow football, never did, never will." 
"What are you? A FAGOT?"

Let's examine that statement. You spend your Sundays with your male friends squeezed onto the same couch or elbow to elbow at a bar, watching sweaty, muscular, athletic MEN roll around in the mud piled on top of each other while wearing skin tight pants. When they do well, you and your buddies high five and even hug. When your team of MEN are done, they pat each other on the asses and take a shower together. The only thing that is even remotely heterosexual about football are the cheerleaders who they seldom show. If your team of MEN do well, you feel good about yourselves and your self esteem goes through the roof. Like you as the fan actually acomplished something yourself, but you didn't. You wasted several hours of your free time cheering on millionares. If your team fails, you are in a bad mood for days, acting like a pissy little bitch whose man didn't please her. Football is very gay.

The GIANTS

Most of northern New Jersey love the Giants. The Giants are a NJ team. The stadium is in Jersey, the players live in Jersey, the fans are in Jersey, the revenue comes from and goes to New Jersey. The team calls themselves THE NEW YORK GIANTS. Isn't that kind of a slap in the face? I mean, if I had a hot young trophy wife she better be using my name. If you are spending my money, you better be calling yourself MRS STYLES bitch. However, New Jersey has such low self esteem that they allow their team to take the name of another state that already has two teams of it's own, the Jets and some team out of Buffalo NY. In all fairness to the Giants, would you want to be associated with New Jersey? Of course not.

The SAINTS

It wasn't until I arrived in New Orleans that I started to understand the football thing. Perhaps because Saints fans aren't complete assholes like Giant fans were back in Jersey. NOLA has such a loyalty to the Saints, it is part of the community. Not just some franchise making a buck off of fans, the Saints are inspiration to a city that feels isolated and alienated from the rest of the country. In times when the residents of the city seem to be shooting each other at an alarming rate, there is almost a truce on game day. If some local points a gun at you and you can manage to yell "WHO DAT!" before he pulls the trigger, you may get to live.  Music, food, parades and the Saints is all that keep New Orleans imploding like some middle eastern capital.

NY GIANTS 24  •  THE SAINTS 49

Location, location, location

 We are in the early production of our animated series "Quarter Rats." I'm working on some of the background art and have been scouting locations and buildings for our characters. I hope to capture the beauty and grittiness of the French Quarter so much that those who have never been here will feel like they have, and for those of us familiar with it I want to be able to point and say "Hey, that's the corner of so and so!"

The main character BiNGE will live in a run down apartment building on the 1100 block of Bourbon, his friends Lance and Jody will have a neat Creole cottage on Gov Nichols.  Bars and clubs will look vaguely similar to those we pass everyday on Bourbon Street.

I never met a dame yet that didn't know if she was good-looking or not without being told, and there's some of them that give themselves credit for more than they've got. 
Stanley Kowalski

The leading lady of romantic interest is Athena DeCruelle.  A former aspiring high fashion model turned B movie actress, turned exotic dancer, turned professional dominatrix is a lady of style and class. I have written several scenes between her and BiNGE as a wink to Tennessee Williams. Of course I had to include a winding street front staircase for and future Stella and Stanley like exchanges. Surprisingly, there are not a lot of staircases on the exterior facades in the French Quarter.

The location that I chose for Athena 's apartment is actually just a few doors down from where Mr. Williams was living when he wrote "Streetcar named Desire,"  at 632 St Peters.

BiNGE and Athena have a very dysfunctional relationship. Athena is the abusive and manipulative partner.  When the man is abusive, it's a drama. When the woman is the abuser,  it's a comedy.

Being a lady of elegance, her place had to be just right. I combed the Quarter scouting locations and stumbled upon hers on my way to work. Across from that famous little alley connecting Pirate's Alley to St Peters it seemed perfect. Just a stone's throw from Jackson Square it should provide some great visuals.  Called the David Victor house built in 1838, it houses the Le Petit Salon Ladies Literary Group.  I don't think they will object if I place a coked up dominatrix in there as a resident.

Take a look at yourself here in a worn-out Mardi Gras outfit, rented for 50 cents from some rag-picker. And with a crazy crown on. Now what kind of a queen do you think you are? Do you know that I've been on to you from the start, and not once did you pull the wool over this boy's eyes! You come in here and you sprinkle the place with powder and you spray perfume and you stick a paper lantern over the light bulb - and, lo and behold, the place has turned to Egypt and you are the Queen of the Nile, sitting on your throne, swilling down my liquor.
Stanley to Blanche, Scene 10

Scene: Night time, exterior of Athena's apartment.

A very drunk BiNGE staggers up the deserted street

and stands under her balcony by a gas street light.

In a very Stanley Kowalski fashion starts to yell her name.

Binge

Athenaaaaaa, Athenaaaaa!

Interior of Athena's posh apartment:

She is on a computer and hears the annoying

drunken BiNGE calling her name outside.

She scowls and tries to ignore him. 

Binge (off screen)

Athenaaaaaaa!

Nieghbor
SHUT UP YOU ASSWIPE!

Binge
Look! I want my gurl down here! Athena!

Athena, perturbed gets up and goes off screen.

An startled cat is heard meowing.

Back on street, Binge looking up.

Binge

Athenaaaaaa, Athenaaaaa!

Athena appears on balcony holding a

box of cat litter, she dumps it on Binge mid yell.

Binge

Athen... (Cough)

 

 He doesn't know it yet, but Nic Cage will be making a cameo appearance in the show....

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)

Thank you very much

This is such an important holiday. Even if you remove all of the religious and political cogitations, we need it for a healthy psyche. It's way too easy to get caught up in what we think we need, what we believe we want and what we fear that we'll never get. It's a time to stop and look around at what we do have with the realization that it easily could be gone tomorrow. Even more important, to be thankful for the "whos" that we have.

Yesterday morning at work I stood out on the balcony of the Pontalba looking over  Jackson Square thinking what a blessed mutherfer I am. My day started out as usual, giving my buddy Darren (a homeless guy) his first smoke of the day. He mentioned how he was still damp from the hard rainstorm the night before. My friend asked me what my holiday plans were, and if I didn't have any that I should join him over at the Hard Rock Cafe for Thanksgiving dinner. The HRC closes shop every year to serve Thanksgiving Day meals to the homeless. Darren encouraged me to join him and the others I have befriended in the Square over the past few months.

I declined because I have a job and a warm home, I wanted to leave a seat open for those who need it more than I. Darren told how they put on a great spread, who says corporate America is heartless? Back in the beginning of October, Darren was sitting on his usual bench when a man walked up and started to hand him toiletries of soap, toothpaste and the like. Darren thanked him profusely as the good Samaritan walked away. I came over to offer a smoke. Darren commented that although he appreciated the act of kindness, he just didn't have room for all of the travel size containers in his only backpack.

"I appreciate all he gave me, but I just don't have the room, here, take some of these toothpastes." "No, I couldn't." "He gave me five tubes of toothpaste and I only have three damn teeth. Take some." I was just moving into my new place and money was tight between the first month's rent and deposit so I did take some tubes of Crest and soap. It came in handy and saved me a few bucks.  I walked away a little choked up.  Darren is an example of the "whos" that I am thankful to know.

Twenty months ago I cruised into New Orleans with just $25 bucks left of the $200 loaned to me by my ex wife's new husband to move down here. I knew no one but my friend from the cab company Doug AKA Waffle. He and his wife Diane let me sleep on their floor until something else came along. Waffle was the one who talked me into coming down to a city that I had never even been to before. As he put it "To be with like minded individuals." I'm thankful.

This time a year ago was a dark, depressing and loathsome time for me. It has not all been a big easy for me since I moved down here. However, I am thankful for those difficult times as well. They have made me stronger, more mature and grateful for what I have achieved. New Years Day I abruptly found myself without a place to live. My friend Robert took me in to his already crowded apartment, fed and employed me. Ten months later I moved into my own place on Toulouse. I'm thankful.

I could give a long list of people that I am thankful for and examples of them being there for me, Kevin, John, Aaron and Colleen. One thing the long time residents of New Orleans have taught me that the "things" in our lives don't mean a thing. Tomorrow they all could be washed away, friends are always there after the storm waters recede. Friends don't remind you of what they have done for you or keep track of what they have given you.

When I rolled into NOLA twenty months ago, I only knew two people here. Now as I walk through the Quarter I am greeted and welcomed by dozens. Business owners, Lucky Dog guys, bouncers, club managers, dancers, artists, magicians, musicians and the homeless. On this day we look to our higher powers with acknowledgment and grace. Today, I look towards a lady. She's graceful, talented, enchanting and yet can quickly turn violent and dangerous. She's ancient and weather worn, has seen a lot of rough times but still is beautiful and sexy as hell. Thank you New Orleans, for taking me in and being my friend.

Hey Kiddo

Laura, I probably think about you a hundred times a day. Miss you very much and can't wait to have you down to New Orleans to show you this great city and to see how much you've grown. I brought my camera in today to take some photos at work and to show you what I do down here. I have been working 6 to 7 days a week painting the Pontalba apartments on Jackson Square. It's a lot of work but it keeps me out of trouble, believe me it's easy to get in trouble when you live in the French Quarter. You don't have to look for trouble, it finds you. Besides I need to work a lot with Christmas coming up. ; )

These buildings were constructed by Baroness Micaela Almonester Pontalba in the 1840's. She was a strong independant woman for her time and had her hand in the designing of these apartments for $300,000 on land she inherited from her father. Originally the land was occupied by military barracks and a prison. 

In the photo of me (not very flattering) over my right shoulder you can get a glimpse of the Cabildo where they signed the Louisiana purchase in 1803.

Here are some photos that I took from the third floor balcony where I take my cigarette breaks. Below in the Square are artists selling artwork and street performers doing their acts as hundreds of tourists mill about.

You can see the Mississippi River from the balcony. It's cool to watch huge cargo ships cruise up and down the river. These things are massive, they are as big as skyscrapers lying on their sides.

Here is one of the rooms that I finished today. It's a smaller dining room with marble floors and mantle. I painted the walls and installed the chandelier.  I'll show you some more photos of rooms as they become completed.  I'm always thinking about you, hope to see you soon.

Love Dad

My lip is bleeding....

I didn't want to get too political with this blog, to be honest I am trying to work on some business deals with lefties and don't want to blow it. However if these morons have their way, there won't be any economy left for me to get rich off of. I have been biting my lip on the Wall street protesters for so long that I have a hole in it.  Believe it or not, when I was in my early twenties I probably would have gone along with this idiots. Of course when I was in my twenties I was a lazy worker, politically ignorant and a foolish ideologue. So I think I can safely speak to these cracked pots.

A) Show me any example in history where communism or socialism has ever really worked. Anywhere? Ever? Capitalism has given you all of the material possessions that you can't now live with out. Any of you protesters willing to give up your iphones, computers, Facebook, cars, or god forbid X box 360's?  No, in fact you want those people who dreamed up, invented, toiled, sacrificed, manufactured, marketed and produced those and thousands of other technologies to now turn over the profits back to you so you can sit in your parent's basement collecting Government money while playing with the above mentioned toys?  If you want the products of socialism, buy a YUGO.

B) Oh, the big bad oppressive system is evil. You smelly, lazy hippies use to sing about "Freedom and personal expression and how bad the establishment is." Your solution? More government, more laws, more taxes. Yea, you want bigger government and more laws as long as they coincide with your way of thinking.  I don't want laws telling me that I have to buy those stupid curly light bulbs or that I can't run with scissors if I so choose. For the little crap like that, let the individual states decide without Federal intervention what is best for it's citizens. If one state wants to legalize something, let it. That state can keep the revenue and the expense of it for itself. Never has more laws, more government and more taxes ever led to more freedom.  (see China)

C) I made a comment to a facebook friend about the protesters evidently didn't have jobs. She was quick to defend them stating that 98% of them probably had jobs. That seems a little unrealistic considering the national average for unemployment is actually around 20%. Also take into account that would mean that millions of employers would have no problem with their employees taking weeks or months off from work to sit in a park and protest the very system that the pay check issuing boss is toiling away to make work. "Sure, come back to work after you increase my taxes and destroy my livelihood." 

D) Celebrities who are endorsing these fools, shut the f*ck up. I don't see you letting these deadbeats camp on your Malibu yard, so don't tell us that we have to put up with them in our downtowns. Want economic justice? The next film you make just have the producers hand over 90% of your paycheck to the IRS so the 99 % can sit in a park at a drum circle. Michel Moore, stop giving your income to McDonalds, KFC and other "Evil Corporations." Ya fat f*ck!

E) You want jobs? What kind? Working for the Department of Pasta Research and Development? You want cushy, overpaid, union bureaucrat jobs where you shuffle in, do next to nothing, collect a check and have holidays off. Paid for by the tax dollars of those who actually produce, labor and think for a living. 

F) It's not fair... Anytime I hear that exclamation I turn a deaf ear. It's not fair that 1% controls 40% of the wealth in this country. Why not? They worked hard for it. Their parents worked hard to send their kids to good schools where they studied hard at things like business and engineering, not art and social studies. I'm an artist and I wouldn't even waste my time on an art degree.  I bet very few of the 1% had student loans paying for the education, and if they did I'm confidant they paid back the loans. Probably a few of them worked their way through college to pay for an education. So yea, they deserve it. Is it fair that a person who pushed themselves and worked hard all of their lives should have to pay more taxes to support you lazy bastards who want to sit at home all day and masturbate?

G) I could jump on board with you. I am at the bottom of the economic ladder myself. I have been homeless and hungry. Did I blame corporations, banks or George W Bush? No. It was my own fault, my situation lies entirely on my back and my choices. No one else is to blame for my life, good or bad. I am working hard to change it. I am focused on giving my child every advantage I can. I do not expect our government to take care of her or me.  

I'll be damned if I am going to quietly sit by and let you dirty, lazy, ignorant fools try to wreck the best economic system the world has ever seen.