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
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