Last night I laid my drunk ass down on a lovely memory foam mattress surrounded by enormous planks of wood and drapery. I stared up into the criss cross expanse of the church roof. The pipes were metallic snakes and the shadows seemed to go on forever. The serenity I felt in this former place of worship was pretty fucking cosmic. What a fitting place to hold me in this time of my life, this go big or go home time in my life. I mean god damn. I just look at my shadow beaming on the church wall from my bed lamp and I took up the whole fucking wall. I love feeling big.
As I gazed into this makeshift maze of plywood and pipe I heard Marika's sweet, quirky little giggle from the next partitioned room. I grabbed my cellphone and texted her "I love your giggle...not to be creepy". A few seconds later I heard he obnoxious alien sounding text ring, followed by the cutest giggle ever. Then I giggled, my belly heaving and my cheeks hurting from all the giggling we have been doing this past week. This is so right, we are partners in crime and partners in life. Oh how this journey is getting off to a running start.
Outside of our friendship, this city is also exploding with colors and endless possibilities. Serendipitously, the NOLA free school is percolating wonderfully and I am loving the way it is unfolding. The ideas are flowing in at high speed and progress is booming exponentially. I have joined the pedagogy committee, which is a perfect place for me as I thrive on ideas and theories. We are already selecting readings and developing a solid pedagogical statement together. We sat together in the courtyard of the Crossaint D'or cafe smoking, drinking coffee and theorizing next to an adorable white fountain of a little boy pissing. This city is so quirky.
There is a food co-op developing with much controversy as well. Marika and I went to their 'Tasty Ball' last night which was flooded with free food and people dressed up like vegetables. My new friend Noah had told me early that the building that houses the coop is owned by a 'gentrafucker', as he puts it, who is really fucking up New Orleans with his developments. Apparently, this man is allowing the food co-op to happen as a 'philanthropic' effort for the community. Noah argues that he is trying to get 'in' with bohemia so he can gentrify the neighborhood. I believe Noah, of course, so I had a long conversation with the woman who is spearheading the project. She was dressed up as a bunch of grapes, equipped with purple balloons and spandex. Despite her ridiculous costume, she was quite serious and interesting. She says she knows about how fucked up this guy is, but the project needs a space, and she feels it's important for the 'community'. Of course, my brain is always buzzing when I hear the word 'community' because, really, what the fuck does that mean? or look like? ya know?
I would expand on this more, but i don't want this post to be as epically long as the last one.
The apartment I just landed is perfect and apparently haunted. It's a studio apartment covered in brick with an attic loft big enough for sleeping. There are two courtyards with a coypond in the back, right in the heart of the French quarter. Marika is going to throw me rent so she can use the downstairs space as a work area, so I can super afford it. It's incredible for both of us. I am so grateful for this because it will not only give me a safe and super amazing location, but also the quiet and solitude I need to really work on my music and writing. I can invite the French Quarter buskers back to my place for beers and we can jam. I want to absorb as much music as possible. I only have 5 months with this place, i need to use it to its full potential.
As I sit at this darling white desk in my church 'guest room', my gut that was once screaming at me to come here is appeased by this synergy. The rain is dripping at a hypnotizing rhythm. It's all coming together, it's making sense. I feel the universe jiving with me in a way that I can toy with and lovingly manipulate.
Word.
love and boundless possibilities,
K
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Grrrl, ya aint in California anymore...
Hey there ya'll!
So...I should be geeking out on Craigslist trying to find a house and job, but instead, I've decided to start my Southern blog. This place is full of so many adventures and stories, I feel that it would be an injustice to my near and dear ones not to share.
I'll be real, this place is another fucking world. My new friend Sasha told me as he was riding home with me that this place is more like the rest of the world. The world is NOT a safe place. He rode his bike next to me for 10 blocks because it isn't safe to ride that short distance alone at 2am. It's just not. Bikers get cardoored and attacked, people are shot on their bikes and robbed, this shit is real. But that's also why I am head over heels obsessed with this place: it is REAL. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate bullshit, I don't bullshit, and I don't take bullshit. Neither does anybody here. This place has grit, guts, and a whole lot of pain.
Sounds like someone I know....;)
I'm still trying to find a place to live. Craigslist out here is pretty bleak, it's more old fashioned here. So, I decided to make a hilarious roommate sign and post it up in cafes where I want to live. We shall see how it goes. Soon, I'll post the flyer here cuz it's great and you'll get a good chuckle out of it I'm sure. I was going to get an apartment with a gang of rad queer grrrls, but I dont think I'm gonna do it anymore because...well...I got drunk and slept with one of them.
oops.
Speaking of amorous, drunken (mis)adventures, I think I'll tell ya'll a little story. Well actually, it's pretty long so read it if ya got some time to kill. I guarantee it's entertaining, though!
The other night Marika and I went to a bar for a birthday party show (it's super cute, people here having birthday shows all the time and post flyers everywhere for them!). As Marika was whispering in my ear about something brilliant and magic as per usual, I linked eyes with a beautiful traveler boy I keep seeing around town. I couldn't help but stupidly smile as he playfully poked his head back and forth behind his friend's, with a coy little boy smile that made my cheeks turn red. I saw him busking on Royal Street the first night I arrived in this gritty city and I couldn't get over his face. His eyes were dirty jade and his lips were pouty like he constantly wanted something, and I'm sure he probably does. I've seen him about 5 times since and to me, thats fate.
"Sorry, grrrl"
I said to Mar
"I'm distracted"
Being bold and slightly off my rocker, I strutted up to him, swaying my hips (probably) unnecessarily dramatically, lowered my eyelids and asked him:
"what? you don't dance?"
The banjo serendipitously amplified at that moment and with a one sided "I thought you'd never ask" smile, he reached for my hand and sprang up.
Now, he was tipsy and I ABSOLUTELY cannot partner dance. It's my nature to never allow anybody to lead me, and I'm super awkward, so...you can imagine how this went.
He is a foot taller than me so it naturally made sense to me to put my hand on HIS waste, not only because I'm super gender queer, but because it was like, practically at my shoulder level. He gripped my right and and we spun in circles and giggled and asked each other stupid questions about ourselves. I was snarky and weird as usual, overtly so, it's usually my gauge to see who's down with my personality. He was. He spun me around and around like drunken dradle and I don't think I've smiled so much in my life. At the end of the song, he attempted to (disasterously) dip me and we both toppled over. I warned him that I was deceptively heavy!
No one ever seems to listen to me.
Being a gentleman, as we were falling, he swung himself under me so I would fall on top of him instead of on the hardwood, dirty floor. I said my head on his chest and laughed hysterically and hugged him underneath the obviously perturbed, super cool crowd. This ridiculous debauchery continued for about an hour until the band finished playing. That time came where it was like...ok, the show's over but we don't want to stop hanging out. He asked me if I wanted to go home with him to his house in uptown where he lives with Bob, my new favorite person. He is living there for free in exchange for doing construction work on the house, and it's a punk house, so I knew it would be a shithole....
(and Uptown is crazyass far away.
and the streetcar is slower than muni...and runs once an hour
and it's not such a good idea to go home with random dudes in a new, dangerous place)
...However...he was way to beautiful to resist and I'm a sucker for a pretty face.
I pulled him away from the crowd and yanked him close. I discreetly said:
"You need to promise me you're not going to hurt me, and understand that I am not going to have sex with you tonight. If thats cool, I'll go with you"
His lips morphed into an innocent, amused grin
"Why would I ever want to hurt you? and I promise I won't try to sleep with you. We can cuddle and kiss and light candles. But if you would ever be obliged to make love to me in the future, I'd be honored"
I trusted him. I also trusted myself in my strength and ability to trust him.
I bit my bottom lip, grabbed his hand and we skipped stupidly down the street so we could catch the streetcar, because skipping is faster than walking, and oh so much more fun! When we arrived at the streetcar stop, the folks there told us we would have to wait another hour for the car. Ballz. I shrugged and looked at him with wide eyes.
"No problem, let's just go somewhere and make out"
I gave him my oh so perfected and mischievous "aren't I adorable?' grin and we linked pinkies and wandered down the street. We searched every dumpster on the block for late night snacks. Cold french fries taste reeeeaaal good when you're starving and broke. However, they just weren't enough so we continued on our search for food. The dumpsters were bleak so we parked our dorky asses on Canal street in front of the foot locker and proceeded to sweetly kiss each other. Kissing, in my opinion, is an art, and that's why I love kissing artistic people. Now, we can't partner dance with our feet for shit, but if kissing were a dance, we would make Ginger and Fred green with envy. Our lips and tongues spun and glided together to the rhythm of the butterflies' wings in our chests. Everyone was jealous of us.
The streetcar finally arrived and we parked ourselves on the wooden bench. I pulled out the anarchist newspaper I got that morning and showed it to hi. He took the paper from my hands and said "watch this..". He open the paper in front of our faces and leaned over to kiss me. We proceeded to makeout behind the 'Raging Pelican' for about 15 minutes. It would have made the cutest punkrock photograph. The streetcar moves about 5 mph and is one of the only forms of transportation in NOLA. It is really shocking how abandoned this city really is. We trudged along with our fellow exhausted passengers, and I read a long, beautiful poem outloud from the 'Raging Pelican". It spoke of the deep roots NOLA residents plant in this soggy earth, how ever after multiple disasters and chaos, this who love this city absolutely cannot uproot, despite nature and societies repeated attempts to blow them away.
I felt infinitely proud to live here.
We finally made it to his house in the Uptown. I had to pee really bad so I asked him to show me to the bathroom. To my alarm and amusement, the kitchen floor was only a quarter finished, and the rest was wooden planks above dirt. A 6 inch plank was placed diagonally across the 'floor' to lead to the bathroom. I had to literally walk the plank to pee. Slightly tipsy, I precariously made my way across the dark balance beam to the bathroom. On my walk back, I felt like I had achieved something great by pissing, like it was an obstacle course. The toilet, of course, didn't flush.
As promised he lit candles, and laid out a questionable mattress. I pushed aside my bedbug paranoia and laid my sorry ass down. The blankets smelled like hell, but so did I, so it wasn't really a thing. The room was freezing but we were warm, so we huddled as close as possible, and we both kept our respective promises. Let's keep it at that...
The next morning he whipped up a tomato soup, ramen, tuna surprise and stirred it with a phillips screwdriver on the quarter of the kitchen floor. I didn't eat any of it. Despite my best efforts, I'm really not that punk rock. I put on my coat and tipped my hat to him and his roommates. I placed my hand on his head, thanked him for a great night, and ventured out to find my way home.
The End. more to come soon!
love and fried chicken,
ksmash
So...I should be geeking out on Craigslist trying to find a house and job, but instead, I've decided to start my Southern blog. This place is full of so many adventures and stories, I feel that it would be an injustice to my near and dear ones not to share.
I'll be real, this place is another fucking world. My new friend Sasha told me as he was riding home with me that this place is more like the rest of the world. The world is NOT a safe place. He rode his bike next to me for 10 blocks because it isn't safe to ride that short distance alone at 2am. It's just not. Bikers get cardoored and attacked, people are shot on their bikes and robbed, this shit is real. But that's also why I am head over heels obsessed with this place: it is REAL. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate bullshit, I don't bullshit, and I don't take bullshit. Neither does anybody here. This place has grit, guts, and a whole lot of pain.
Sounds like someone I know....;)
I'm still trying to find a place to live. Craigslist out here is pretty bleak, it's more old fashioned here. So, I decided to make a hilarious roommate sign and post it up in cafes where I want to live. We shall see how it goes. Soon, I'll post the flyer here cuz it's great and you'll get a good chuckle out of it I'm sure. I was going to get an apartment with a gang of rad queer grrrls, but I dont think I'm gonna do it anymore because...well...I got drunk and slept with one of them.
oops.
Speaking of amorous, drunken (mis)adventures, I think I'll tell ya'll a little story. Well actually, it's pretty long so read it if ya got some time to kill. I guarantee it's entertaining, though!
The other night Marika and I went to a bar for a birthday party show (it's super cute, people here having birthday shows all the time and post flyers everywhere for them!). As Marika was whispering in my ear about something brilliant and magic as per usual, I linked eyes with a beautiful traveler boy I keep seeing around town. I couldn't help but stupidly smile as he playfully poked his head back and forth behind his friend's, with a coy little boy smile that made my cheeks turn red. I saw him busking on Royal Street the first night I arrived in this gritty city and I couldn't get over his face. His eyes were dirty jade and his lips were pouty like he constantly wanted something, and I'm sure he probably does. I've seen him about 5 times since and to me, thats fate.
"Sorry, grrrl"
I said to Mar
"I'm distracted"
Being bold and slightly off my rocker, I strutted up to him, swaying my hips (probably) unnecessarily dramatically, lowered my eyelids and asked him:
"what? you don't dance?"
The banjo serendipitously amplified at that moment and with a one sided "I thought you'd never ask" smile, he reached for my hand and sprang up.
Now, he was tipsy and I ABSOLUTELY cannot partner dance. It's my nature to never allow anybody to lead me, and I'm super awkward, so...you can imagine how this went.
He is a foot taller than me so it naturally made sense to me to put my hand on HIS waste, not only because I'm super gender queer, but because it was like, practically at my shoulder level. He gripped my right and and we spun in circles and giggled and asked each other stupid questions about ourselves. I was snarky and weird as usual, overtly so, it's usually my gauge to see who's down with my personality. He was. He spun me around and around like drunken dradle and I don't think I've smiled so much in my life. At the end of the song, he attempted to (disasterously) dip me and we both toppled over. I warned him that I was deceptively heavy!
No one ever seems to listen to me.
Being a gentleman, as we were falling, he swung himself under me so I would fall on top of him instead of on the hardwood, dirty floor. I said my head on his chest and laughed hysterically and hugged him underneath the obviously perturbed, super cool crowd. This ridiculous debauchery continued for about an hour until the band finished playing. That time came where it was like...ok, the show's over but we don't want to stop hanging out. He asked me if I wanted to go home with him to his house in uptown where he lives with Bob, my new favorite person. He is living there for free in exchange for doing construction work on the house, and it's a punk house, so I knew it would be a shithole....
(and Uptown is crazyass far away.
and the streetcar is slower than muni...and runs once an hour
and it's not such a good idea to go home with random dudes in a new, dangerous place)
...However...he was way to beautiful to resist and I'm a sucker for a pretty face.
I pulled him away from the crowd and yanked him close. I discreetly said:
"You need to promise me you're not going to hurt me, and understand that I am not going to have sex with you tonight. If thats cool, I'll go with you"
His lips morphed into an innocent, amused grin
"Why would I ever want to hurt you? and I promise I won't try to sleep with you. We can cuddle and kiss and light candles. But if you would ever be obliged to make love to me in the future, I'd be honored"
I trusted him. I also trusted myself in my strength and ability to trust him.
I bit my bottom lip, grabbed his hand and we skipped stupidly down the street so we could catch the streetcar, because skipping is faster than walking, and oh so much more fun! When we arrived at the streetcar stop, the folks there told us we would have to wait another hour for the car. Ballz. I shrugged and looked at him with wide eyes.
"No problem, let's just go somewhere and make out"
I gave him my oh so perfected and mischievous "aren't I adorable?' grin and we linked pinkies and wandered down the street. We searched every dumpster on the block for late night snacks. Cold french fries taste reeeeaaal good when you're starving and broke. However, they just weren't enough so we continued on our search for food. The dumpsters were bleak so we parked our dorky asses on Canal street in front of the foot locker and proceeded to sweetly kiss each other. Kissing, in my opinion, is an art, and that's why I love kissing artistic people. Now, we can't partner dance with our feet for shit, but if kissing were a dance, we would make Ginger and Fred green with envy. Our lips and tongues spun and glided together to the rhythm of the butterflies' wings in our chests. Everyone was jealous of us.
The streetcar finally arrived and we parked ourselves on the wooden bench. I pulled out the anarchist newspaper I got that morning and showed it to hi. He took the paper from my hands and said "watch this..". He open the paper in front of our faces and leaned over to kiss me. We proceeded to makeout behind the 'Raging Pelican' for about 15 minutes. It would have made the cutest punkrock photograph. The streetcar moves about 5 mph and is one of the only forms of transportation in NOLA. It is really shocking how abandoned this city really is. We trudged along with our fellow exhausted passengers, and I read a long, beautiful poem outloud from the 'Raging Pelican". It spoke of the deep roots NOLA residents plant in this soggy earth, how ever after multiple disasters and chaos, this who love this city absolutely cannot uproot, despite nature and societies repeated attempts to blow them away.
I felt infinitely proud to live here.
We finally made it to his house in the Uptown. I had to pee really bad so I asked him to show me to the bathroom. To my alarm and amusement, the kitchen floor was only a quarter finished, and the rest was wooden planks above dirt. A 6 inch plank was placed diagonally across the 'floor' to lead to the bathroom. I had to literally walk the plank to pee. Slightly tipsy, I precariously made my way across the dark balance beam to the bathroom. On my walk back, I felt like I had achieved something great by pissing, like it was an obstacle course. The toilet, of course, didn't flush.
As promised he lit candles, and laid out a questionable mattress. I pushed aside my bedbug paranoia and laid my sorry ass down. The blankets smelled like hell, but so did I, so it wasn't really a thing. The room was freezing but we were warm, so we huddled as close as possible, and we both kept our respective promises. Let's keep it at that...
The next morning he whipped up a tomato soup, ramen, tuna surprise and stirred it with a phillips screwdriver on the quarter of the kitchen floor. I didn't eat any of it. Despite my best efforts, I'm really not that punk rock. I put on my coat and tipped my hat to him and his roommates. I placed my hand on his head, thanked him for a great night, and ventured out to find my way home.
The End. more to come soon!
love and fried chicken,
ksmash
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