Forgiveness is a powerful thing. To grant it gives the possibility of new life to a relationship,..and to the very person that is asking for it. Sure,..we've all been in that position. I've had to tuck my tail between my legs innumerable amounts of time,..even just in recent memory. We all fail,..we all do things that aren't right,..or that at least aren't perceived as such,..making them possibly just as wrong, hurtful, insensitive,..(fill in your own here.) We've all done it. We've all had to ask,..and have BEEN asked for forgiveness. And we have both granted it, and have had it granted to us. Beautiful.

I'll skip the overtly religious overtones and get right to the point here. What if the person that is seeking forgiveness is the same person from which it is sought? (What?) What if it's YOU that needs to forgive YOU for something? Precisely.

It's easy to identify those that wrong us,..those that have somehow, in our opinion, harmed us, held us back, even scarred us-emotionally or even physically. But what if both the perp and the victim are the same person,..YOU? Obviously, that could make it a bit more difficult.

Just as it strains the wrist to turn one's pointing finger back around to oneself, it strains the psyche to think that we could possibly be holding ourselves back,..still holding a grudge,..on ourselves. This is so common that it's scary, but it's rarely talked about,-to my knowledge, well, not as much as it should be, maybe. Oh yeah,of course on occasion it's used to keep someone from feeling so guilty about eating that extra piece of cheesecake or whatever,..but I'm talking about real soul stealing offenses that we have committed by ourselves unto ourselves, and have yet to attone for, or more importantly,..forgive.

We are the only ones who know such offenses,..we are also the ONLY ones that can right such wrongs.

So do yourself a favor,..(don't do it for me,..do it for you), and shut off the TV, the stereo,..your computer,..and find someplace where you can not only think, but HEAR,...hear your inner voice (whether that voice is God or whatever, that's your issue to assign,..this isn't a sermon.) but give yourself a second to just listen.

With today's cultural onslaught, we rarely are given an easy route to this place of solace,..but that doesn't mean that we can blame it on outside influences and simply never try to find it. TV's have OFF switches (not just mute buttons,...OFF switches) and emails don't disentigrate if left in the inbox more than 5 minutes,.etc., and believe me VH1 will RERUN this week's Rock of Love 2,..so don't fret about the fate of Daisy,..she's not too worried about you right now, either. ; )

Give yourself some time. Listen,..then ponder what you have heard.
-In what ways do you hurt yourself?

-How do your fears,..most times unwarranted fears,..hold you back from being the amazing person that is your destiny?

-How do you beat yourself down,..becoming your own roadblock?

-How many times do you blame someone else for pain that you allowed,..or even inflicted?

Write these things down as you go.

-Are you needlessly critical of yourself?

-Are you, for any number of reasons, a disappointment to yourself? Why?

(write it down)

-Who do you feel-other than just yourself, do you feel you disappoint? Who do you "fail to impress?"

Now,...let it go.

(Is it that simple?) I contend that it is.

Just say to yourself that you ARE special, (KNOWING THAT YOU ARE SPECIAL,..WORTHY!) and that you have nothing to fear.

Why? Because YOU ALONE have something no one else has exactly, and you have something waiting for you. It's one thing to have someone actually wrong you,..but if the person holding you back is YOU,..YOU alone have total control over this. Just let it go?

Let yourself know that it's OK. It's OK.

This should not be a catch all, forgiveness blanket for a life with no thought of repentence, or will to change. Nor should it be a way to allow yourself to slip,..with no guilt, no further responsibilities,..no further obligations. I'm not saying, "Eat all the cheesecake you want, (figuratively or literally, speaking), it's all good!" No,..I'm saying that holding yourself hostage to all the things that you've ever done to make you feel bad,..maybe even hate yourself is POISON.

Just,...take a deep breath,...let it go.

If you don't feel better immediately,..keep pondering,..keep listening,..the world isn't going anywhere. You weren't that happy out there, anyway. Take a few minutes more, and listen. "You" might be wanting to tell yourself something.You probably were all along, you just didn't hear.

Then, once you feel like you are yourself again,..the good self-not the self that you are just used to, the beaten down self, the "not good enough" self,..then you can start looking outwardly,..but only AFTER you are "good" with yourself and start to realize that this is a new starting point,..that the past is just that, a story to be told, can you honestly and accurately fill in the rest of the blanks. This is where is all begins. Trust me.

Maybe there ARE some people that have harmed you,..maybe they didn't know it,..maybe they knew EXACTLY what they were doing,..it doesn't matter, because it's in your hands now. YOU decide how these things will affect you from here on out. I'm not downplaying or in any way disrespecting the pain that you may have received. My point is that you are now the one that decides if you are gonna hide behind someone else's thoughtlessness or sheer evil deed(s)..or if you are gonna step up and take back the life that is rightfully yours. It doesn't really matter if they ask you for forgiveness,..this is so far above that, it's not even funny. This is about you taking back ownership of all aspects of your life. It IS yours, right?

So no matter who it is or what the circumstance,..you can just let it go. Yeah,.let,..it,..go. Whether it's a past lover that wronged you,..a person that even physically and/or psychologically abused you,..or even a family member that doesn't seem to respect you or acknowledge you to be as special as you are,..in your world,..it's all the same,...and it's up to you.

Just recently, I had a break through like this,..that's how I know just how powerful it can be. I know now that I'm destined for something and the journey I'm on is part of that,..and it very well may not be what I plan for or even expect. But now I feel like I can live without fear,..without the endless cop outs. Knowing that this is my only chance to MATTER. If I'm shot dead tomorrow while walking home from a rebuild tomorrow,..I will know that it's all good. Although I'd rather not be "called" on that, if you get my drift. ; )

The popular saying now is, "What would you do with your life if you knew that you could not fail." I say that until you can answer that with "Exactly what I'm doing now," you are not only shortchanging yourself, but shortchanging your Maker.

Peace and grooviness,

kf

   NOTE: This is a slightly revised version from the original,..since my first one came off looking more like jealous whining or outright trash talk, and that wasn’t my intention in the least. I’d never change it if it were simply the case of a difference of opinion,..but in this case, I wanted the humor and the observation to be the focus, and not seen as a shallow, jealous dis. If it STILL comes off like I secretly want bodyguards or the trappings of fame without earning them,..then I’m just a horrible writer. kf

"Last night I saw Criss Angel signing autographs on Decatur St.,...his hair was perfect." (Actually, it was last week sometime.) My apologies to Warren Zevon.

I noticed that situated around him were a couple hulking security guys, keeping the fans at bay.
    It has to be an interesting time in a male celebrity’s life when he decides that he can’t take care of himself anymore.ha,ha I bet that there is actually an audible sucking sound when his testicles retract up into his stomach, never to be heard from again.
    I’m not talking about Rappers who have made bodyguards and  "the posse"- standard issue. Although I have to digress and say that the word "posse" always reminds me of my favorite Far Side cartoon. It is set in the Old West, in the middle of the town square is a huge pile of guns, cowboys, wagons, etc. On the sidewalk stand two men, one shaking his head. He says disgustedly to the other man, "Damnit,  Earl. A posse is something you organize, not just throw together!"
    Anyway,...I’m not talking about that part of the culture; the excessive, bling oriented, at times-self perpetuatingly violent culture. I’m talking about the average guy that happens to be a celebrity.  The moment when he is more concerned about the risk of the overzealous fan or the jealous Killjoy, than the fact he could possibly appear to be a pampered wuss.
    It’s even worse if this actor is an "Action Hero" type.  Like  pre-gubernatorial Arnold, or Sly, or VinNextBigthingDiesel, doesn’t it seem a bit fey to have guys who are even bigger than you, crowding around, diminishing you not only in relative size, but in implied testosterone capacity?
    Yeah, I realize that the world is changing. I realize that our obsession with celebrity is out of control, and there are times when security is necessary at some point. But it’s hard to imagine that it’s always an actual security issue. I certainly can’t imagine Steve McQueen being helped in and out of a limo by massive guys wearing tacky, pseudo-CIA agent suits and sunglasses. Can you? Just picture that for a second. It makes your skin crawl. Or John Wayne looking sheepish as his Security cuts a swath through the throng of fans, on their way into Les Duex? Just doesn’t make any sense, does it? Hey, maybe those guys DID have security, but they didn’t have them move the crowd for him and further shelter their far too self important existances.  They were men, and men can generally take care of themselves. If they did have bodyguards, they were told to blend in unless needed.

I tend to be more forgiving to scrawny rock stars, in these cases. Either thy are actually small, or they are drug addled to the point that they need some muscle around them. I would never expect Mick Jagger to fight someone out of the crowd, or even someone like Axl Rose who THINKS he can fight,...he’s still a skinny musician. So since Criss is a smallish guy himself I guess he should fall into this catagory and therefore not bare the brunt of this rant. But my point isn’t to blast Criss Angel in any way. My point is simply the question of the bodyguard in the "image" of a celebrity, as opposed to just a simple security precaution.

So now let’s take a look at this look at this "Bodyguards toughen my image," concept. I must ask, how does that work? Granted, somehow/sometimes it does, and in the case like in the Biggie/Tupac days, it was more than just an affectation, it was a necessity. But to me, the concept of paying someone to "protect you" that this can somehow make you appear tougher is the ultimate in backasswards marketing genius. To me,  wouldn’t being enough of a badass to go around without a bodyguard show a bit more strength and courage, than to practically be swaddled up in the arms of one of these steroid addled babysitters? To me,  it would be if I stand in a hole right in front of you, then convince you that it makes me look taller. If they need bodyguards legitimately,..who am I to judge. Not having ever had more than the awkward or creepy "fan" moment, myself-never a full on scary one, I can’t talk. But to hire people to make you look more famous or appear like you are so famous that girls will rip your clothes off or guys will want to take you down, is silly at best. Part of the whole Pimp My Ride/My Sweet 16 vapid MTV generation, I’d guess. Style without substance.

How did this one celebrity sighting stir up this rant? Who knows? All I know is it will be a long time probably until my fame or notoriety would warrant a bodyguard. But if that day ever comes, and I hear that audible sucking noise,...I will claim this blog was posted by a hacker and deny ever righting this. ; ) Then, I’ll just try to get guys that are shorter than me to decrease the feeling of diminishing testicular fortitude.
    And for the record, I think Criss Angel does some amazing illusions, even if he is short. And he IS awful purty!

Most of my friends know that I used to be a cast member on the series Something to be Desired. (I guess I still am, but my character moved away when I did,..so he’s out there some where. Cameos aside.) Anyway,..I heard from the Writer/Creator/Director/all things STBD Justin Kownacki today and he had some AMAZING NEWS!!!

STBD Is Nominated for Yahoo Video’s "Best Series"!

STBD has been selected as one of 5 nominees by Yahoo for "Best Series" in their 2008 Yahoo Video Awards. Now we need your vote!

You can check our box at the contest page.

This could be big, so please do us a favor: Go there and vote. Also, if you have friends and family, please ask them to vote there too. Nothing compares to a massive word of mouth campaign to help the little guy, and in this race, we’re certainly the smallest fish.

Thanks for all you do! (And, in this case, that means "thanks for checking our checkbox in the Yahoo contest!")

I was just emailing with a friend the other day about how High School is either the defining moment in your life,..your peak, as it were - or just another horrible phase to get thru on the way to better things. Some people hit the top early on,...so they got to reap benefits early. But as life enforces it's own sense of balance,..few continue on from there. Once you peak,..the downward slide must occur.

Others (hopefully most of us fall into this) gradually progress and grow,..in some cases never actually "peaking," just continuing to evolve and climb.

Whether we age gracefully,..or fight it tooth and nail,...we still age. Embrace the fact that you have never  been more intelligent, more graceful, more worldly,..and hopefully, more wise than you are right at this very moment. Not bad, huh?

I love watching people develop from what they were in H.S., on thru to adulthood and beyond. I especially like it when (I am hoping for this for myself,..someday) someone goes from what was considered as not up to the standards set by whomever was judging us at the time, and grows into something exceptional, far beyond everyone's expectations. That is the coolest. I saw the results of that at my last reunion and it so rocked. To see that the bookworm had burst from the cocoon,..well, it doesn't get much better.

Being basically a shallow, egotistical hedonist,..I am reticent to ever do something like quote the Bible in a blog or otherwise - not 'cause I don't value it,..but because I don't want to DE-value it,..by attaching my name to it, in any way. But I ran across this just LAST NIGHT and I thought it worth sharing.

***Keep this close to you, and remember it any time the world makes you think that you are less than perfect.

"And the stone that the builder once rejected,..has now become the cornerstone." Mark 12:10

Love you all,..have a great holiday!

kf

I was musing the other day about something bizarre. I was considering the fact that although I grew up in WV, I've lived in Atlanta, New Orleans, and LA -each of them on two different occasions and each for less than a year at a time. Just a couple days ago,..the last three were under severe stress from some sort environmental catastrophy. There was a drought in Atlanta, it was flooding here,..and LA was and still is on fire. BUT, all the while,..WV was having Indian Summer (or is it "Native American Summer?"). It was 75 degrees and beautiful. So I guess Al Gore doesn't have to add my name to the list of things that can only negatively affect the environment, just yet. But I was worried there for a minute.

    Took a long walk today,..to the outskirts, if you will. Went on a journey to buy some household things, and find a decent grocery store. Not decent as in a Whole Foods Market, but decent as in where normal people shop, not where tourists buy Vitamin Water and Tylenol to fight off hangovers or where local speedfreaks buy a single can of Cambell's Chicken 'n Stars,..enough to last them a week, each willing to pay "two prices,"..as my Mom would say for their respective fixes. I just wanted a place that sells, uh,..vegetables or maybe a bag of frozen chicken breasts. I ventured out into that "grey" area just outside of my little arty oasis of the Quarter/Marigny District. Went over to where the "real" people live,..the land that Bush forgot,..as it were. Kinda dicey area,..but at the same time, somehow nice. No, I'm not prepared to change my address any time soon,  but there was a reality there that doesn't exist in the Quarter or in the eyes of the art school rejects that pepper the Marigny.

    They (the arty masses) have a different reality. The reality of the scam,..the trust fund,..the drug habit that's just bad enough to make them live below their normal means, but still not quite bad enough to resort to selling their bodies, or perform heavy duty theft,... and surely not any type of violence. They still live a fantasy. A dark, seedy,..yet livable fantasy, in a city that marries both Vampires and The Marriot. Even I am in a fantasy phase of my existance. Retiscent to lock down roots until I know that I am supposed to be here,..yet I was drawn here for some reason and feel the need to respect that. So I attempt to play both sides of the coin,..still wondering how many more coins I have in my pocket.  My position between responsibility to my dream as a continuance or my dream as it is limited to New Orleans is my dilemma. But my dilemma is a good one. I am very blessed to have been given these opportunities. My issues are only with how to do this the best way possible,..I have no issues with the "whether," just with the "how". That first one is the real bitch.

This place holds a lot of mystery. It's been said time and time again that this is the place of lost souls,..Christians take that any way you like. But it does have a feeling like no other. There is an inherant gothic seediness that is at the same time welcoming and foreboding. Since Katrina, rental prices here have shot up 46%. I guess more places were lost than people, when it comes down to it. This used to be an average priced place to live,...not any mo'. But somehow it holds on to it's roots in the darkside. Just steps,..literal steps from the heart of Bourbon,..you feel it. Bourbon is not the heart of the Quarter,..if it were, I'd suggest a stake be driven thru it. It's nothing but the whore that rents the apartment over your garage,...for $250 a night. You don't want her there,..but know that you wouldn't do as well without her. The single oasis on Bourbon being Lafitte's Blacksmith Shoppe. I must stop right here or I'll be giving them my money before the night's over.

Venture out of the Quarter and this turns into any other city. Just the other side of Canal St.office buildings rise out of the concrete, and yuppies with briefcases and yoga mats scurry to and from their loft apartments and jobs with benefits. Even with occasional rarity of a club like Howlin' Wolf that pops up seemingly without reason,..it's still just a city. Just a cold glass and steel world of commerce and inflated parking prices. Venture out even farther,..say across the bridge to Gretna,..and it's the same as any suburb with their Chili's, Olive Garden,..Target,..etc. and so on. There are nice neighborhoods,..and those that make you lock your doors and run the A/C instead of ridin' in the wind. But it's still,...where the "real" people live.

Tthe other day I got lost because Yahoo Maps didn't factor in Katrina and the simple street that I was to take,..no longer exists. As I made my way back thru the neighborhoods, I came across a Fair. Yeah,..a Fair. Not a little street fair, but a full on local area carnival and gathering,..just outa the blue. I asked one guy who was directing traffic what it was about,..this festival. He said, "Ahh,..it's just a fair. But the oysters are too damned high. Like 12 for $8 or summpin' like 'at." I smiled and drove on around. They were parked full or I would have possibly joined them. 'Cause where I'm from,..over in the "Qwahtah," $8 for a dozen oysters is a pretty good deal.

It was brought to my attention that my New Orleans blog stopped after the first day. Although that might be symbolic of the typical debauchery of that city, it turned out to be both a time issue and ultimately a laptop issue. The screen just stopped lighting up. Supposedly it's on it's way back from FL. as we speak. Anyway,..

As some of you know, I lived for a far too short time in N.O. back about 8 years ago. For the first few months, I lived across the river, renting a room from some family of some friends. Not the most convenient place to live, but an interesting way to see the life of the true "local," as opposed to the constant influence of the tourist. The things that I remember were the accents- thick as Praline Connection gumbo, the constant discussion of the Crack epidemic. My host/landlord could rattle off name after name of people he knew that had ruined their lives with it and it seemed to threaten to take over the 'burbs, at that time. N.O. has always kinda been a haven for junkies, for some reason. I remember Mayor Nagin saying during Katrina that with the drug supply cut off, he had legions of junkies roaming the streets looking for a fix, some of them armed and most all of them dangerous. This was part of his plea with the Governor and Pres. to get him National Guard troops to keep the peace. The third thing I remember about that stay there was that my original trip down was delayed, and as it turned out that was just good timing, 'cause there was a hurricane on the way, supposedly. The very house in which I was to be staying, was boarded up and the bathtub filled with water for the possible emergency. You notice there was no mention of evacuation.

I'll spare you the details of Daniel Lanois deciding to shut down his studio without getting word to me, hence allowing me to move all that way only to find out that my promised new job at Kingway (Kingsway was a recording studio which was my Graceland, for lack of a better comparison. I had stumbled upon an upcoming job opening while there on my first visit to town) well, with the impending sale/shut down, my job was no longer in the cards. I'll will also spare the details of the second engineering job that I had, promising tons of work, only to offer me a few days here and there and to have all their monitor speakers blown out by lightening the day before I reported for work. sigh. ha,ha I could do any entire series of blogs about that meltdown. But alas, I shall spare you.

The reason I bring it up is that all the while I was living outside the city, I was on the lookout for an apartment in the French Quarter. For either job, that area, besides being aesthetically pleasing and the center of all things N'awlins, was centrally located and within walking distance to most everything I needed. Dan's place on the west side, The Egyptian Room on the (East) -the Canal St. side. One of the seemingly endless things that George W. said during Katrina that enraged me was that "I don't think anyone could have predicted that the levies would breach." Arrgh. I checked out several places, but immediately passed on anything that was on the first floor. Even 5+ years before Katrina, even I knew that it was a matter of time before the town flooded, and wanted to give myself a little bit of a cushion against that. I ended up picking a place, a 3rd floor walk up-much to the shagrin of George and Raj, my good friends that helped me move in, for that very reason. My new place was on Toulouse St., about 2.5 blocks from the craziness of Bourbon St. But even being in the midst of all that revelry, there was never a time when we felt 100% safe, or at least I didn't.

 I remember riding the shuttle in from the airport and seeing the levee for the first time. WOW! Even back then, there was a sense of impending doom. Imagine a 30 foot tall above ground, yet cement pool, filled to the top to the point where the surface tension could be seen bulgiing ever so slightly over the top. That would have been ominous enough without looking down below that wall and seeing roof tops. Yes, there were houses right underneath this wall of water. "How could anyone sleep with this literally hanging over their heads?," I asked myself. After seeing that, I was determined to not assume anything, regarding my safety.

My new place, however inconvenient for my friends who had to carry PA speakers up 3 flights, then up my very cool looking, yet flimsy spiral staircase into my loft, was high enough to buy me some time and that's what I was looking for, mainly. As I sat out on the roof outside one of my bedroom windows, listening to jazz floating over from Jackson Square, smelling cajun food wafting up from the restaurant below, I looked out over the Quarter and wondered how long I would last sitting up here, with water rushing in around the foundations.

Part of the problem with the Bush Administration's lack of understanding with the issues that residents of New Orleans faced, is that most of them (some 80%) relied completely on public transportation. They didn't take the bus just to be ecologically friendly or to reduce traffic, they took it because it's too expensive to own a car there. The parking issue was the reason I forewent bringing my car down while living on Toulouse. It was gonna cost me an extra couple hundred bucks to keep my car in a garage. Unlike Bush's "Haves," I just couldn't afford it. But as I said before, I could walk to work anyway. So my car stayed in my driveway in WV, while I traversed the streets of N.O. on foot. With me though, it was a decision. For most people down there, they just couldn't/can't afford it, so they took the bus.

 I remember one of a series of VERY frustrating conversations about the Katrina debacle with some ultra Conservative friends of mine. They were in the same mindset of most of the Administration in that they couldn't figure out why these people didn't just pack the kids up in the Range Rover and head off to their summer home until the storm passed.

American has grown into a country of polar opposites, it seems. You have people that can't afford to drive away when a huge storm threatens their very lives and people that can't imagine life without an iPhone. I told them that even I would have probably stayed, 80% out of lack of a way out, and 20% out of misguided and sense laid to rest defiance of nature. I didn't have a pot to piss in, moneywise. So even if I could have got a bus to the airport, (a cab would be impossible find) and secured a ticket, I didn't have the money to pay for one. I seriously doubt they were offering "Super Savers" for last minute evacuation purchases. "Did the storm clouds blackout my FF mile usage?" No, chances are I would have probably gone down to the A&P, stocked up on as much water and food that I could afford, stacked it up in my loft, then gone out to a pub to build some false courage.

I couldn't even imagine what some had to deal with during this evacuation. Like the lady who's house we were working on (thru Habitat for Humanity) told us, it was beyond anything that "Browie" could have comprehended. Having to pack up belongings for herself and 2 kids (one toddler, one infant) and trudge the 4+ miles to the Super Dome was not an easy option. She ended up having to be rescued in a row boat. More on this story later, but could you imagine dragging two crying children on a walk of that length, carrying as many of your belongs as you can to get you thru, only to sit in the Super Dome, being denied water when there were stacks of boxes sitting behind the lady turning them away,..to try to keep her children from being molested or herself from being raped in the bathrooms with were completely without light, having the *National Guard soldiers just completely ignore her only to sneak off and pose for videos and pictures in front of the devastation of "someone else's home." It's beyond comprehension. "Heckuva job, Brownie!," indeed.

*I don't wish to convey that all N.G. people were this disrespectful. I'm just passing along her story.

More on this woman's saga and other tales from the tragedy that somehow didn't make Fox News in the next Blog. I just wanted to remind people a little about what happened RIGHT HERE IN AMERICAN almost 3 years ago.

But I will also give updates on the bright part of all this,..the amazing VOLUNTEERISM that has taken over that city. Stick around,..it's not all tales of horror and incompetence.

Eventually,  I might even get around to explaining why I titled this series of blogs, "A Tale of Two Cities."

Due to a snafu in my Atlanta visit with my cousin, who shall remain,...my cousin, I'm changing things up a bit. I was gonna leave today around 2pm, but since I found out that my parking pass is good until midnight anyway, I'm gonna spend one last day in my home away from my home away from home, then drive out later tonight.

(Wow, Stonyfield Farm Organic lowfat strawberry yogurt is the shiz. I'm sure it was a mistake, because this is not a town concerned with either "organic" OR gasp,..."lowfat.") I read an article once that completely summed it up. It said, "New Orleans is the least healthy city in the US and the least concerned about that fact."

OK, so back to my story. I'm just gonna hang out here, log some internet catchup in CC's-my favorite coffee shop so far (Cafe Du Monde doesn't count), go maybe do some laundry, eat a couple decent meals, do some shopping (embracing my metrosexual side), go out to the 9th ward and take some pics of the areas that FEMA/Bush forgot, and then cruise out. I'm gonna do the down and dirty, sleeping a couple hours in a rest area/whatever deal, and just enjoy some quality time with Deiter, my Audi.

I think my car knows that this trip could be it's Green Mile, so it has been driving like a dream. (Yeah, I'm knocking wood right now.) Because I said that if it handled the trip well enough, I'd reconsider selling it. Soooo, if it holds out and doesn't dump on me in the middle of redneck central,..we may have a call from the Governor.

Ran into (figuratively speaking) Phil Collen, (no, not the diminutive sellout formerly of Genesis), the guitarist for Def Leppard. We crossed paths yesterday on Decatur St. There was a moment where we made eye contact and my internal dialogue was "Isn't that the guy from Def Leppard?" and his was,..."If I cross the street here and go west, I'll be headed toward,...that guy looking at me smells like Abita Amber and boiled shrimp,...I think Canal St."

Not NEARLY as good as spotting Todd Rundgren, and sigh, Liv Tyler on the same street using an ATM. "Wow, Liv this is so crazy,..I use ATM's too!! "

I have dubbed this portion of the trip "Carb Fest 2006," for those of you keeping score. I had a seared  tuna steak po boy last night that seriously rocked, and 3 beignets have enough powdered sugar on them to look like something you'd see in Scarface. But I'm thinking a crazy big salad from Port of Call is in order today. Olive salad spread on top, and the Bleu cheese so good it makes you want to switch the "e" and the "u." (???) All I need is to have huge carb laden meal and then have to pull over to sleep 15 minutes out of town. Not a good plan.

OK, before I close-here are some of my recommendations for your next trip to New Orleans.

1) The French Quarter Courtyard Hotel-1101 N. Rampart St. (great price, great vibe, and walking distance to all things "quarter.") A couple tips though, until they get a better signal-get something on the ground floor, if you need the wireless. The upstairs is most definitely haunted, so factor that in. The ground floor rooms like I had around the pool are really cool, and the grotto type pool had fountains running constantly, so that sound was very relaxing, but these rooms aren't as quiet as the rooms upstairs. But the poltergeist factor may even that out. (they didn't say it was haunted, but I feel this shit. trust me) If you park your car yourself, then it's only $10 a day to have your car kept in their courtyard style garage, with in and out privileges, but the valet will cost you double/plus tip. Since the garage is literally right across the street, I'd save the money and give it to the bartender at Lafitte's.

http://www.atneworleans.com/body/blacksmith.htm

2) The above mentioned bar. If you don't feel like a vampire or at least a thousand times cooler than the other Bourbon St. crawlers, I'll buy you a handgrenade at The Tropical Isle (yuck). (You'll get these once you've been here.) This is a great place to meet your mistress. It's so dark that it's almost disorienting,..or was that the hurricanes at 2pm....(Dilip?)

3)Abita beer. I've been going with the Amber, but the Turbo Dog seriously rocks, as well.

4) The gumbo at the Praline (pronounced Praw-line) Connection in the Marigny district. Keep your money in the locally owned establishments, when you can. Their gumbo is like whatever is lying around. Dilip and I ate there once or was it FOUR times one trip. Every time you bring out your spoon, it's a surprise. I pulled out half a blue crab once. haha (I'm not kidding)

5) Secretly feeding pieces of your beignet to the pigeons inside the tent at Cafe du Monde so you can watch the sweet little asian ladies try to chase them away. Great fun.

6)King Rodger's Seafood-A short walk up N. Rampart just past Esplanade. It's a take out only place, but grab something and walk down to the park in the Marigny District. (Go down Esplanade to Checkpoint Charlies, grab a beer in a plastic cup to go, and head left a couple blocks to the park. Sit, eat and drink. Might want to get two cups of Abita for the walk.

6) The first time you are drinking a beer/cocktail on the street and a cop goes by. That virginal rush of "I'm going to jail," followed quickly by the realization that it's not only legal, but that the cop just might have a bottle of Abita tucked between his own knees as he cruises by.

I saw some beads in a bizarre store off of Decatur last night. I don't think that these were the ones that get tossed off of balconies during Mardi Gras,...at least I hope not.

OK, that's it.

Love and free refills, K.

*****Don't just sit there, go watch SOMETHING TO BE DESIRED, then report back to me.

www.somethingtobedesired.com

Instead of sticking to my typical low stress schedule, I decided to add a few hundred extra miles to today's run and get into New Orleans in enough time to spend two days here, instead of some random shithole. Now I'm in a really electic and once beautiful shithole. I'll fill you in more later. But I wanted to share with you the most bizarre/trippy random song appearances during today's trip.

As I am just hitting downtown El Paso,..."Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?" comes on. This was a CD, not the radio, but I was not intending it for this purpose or the selection of this song. THIS FIRE-Paula Cole---is an INCREDIBLE CD.

As I'm hitting a particularly desolate stretch of highway between San Antonio and Houston, "Burma Shave" by Tom Waits comes on. (a couple of young people crash their car in the middle of nowhere, looking for their dreams)

As I'm going thru the heart of Houston, "SOUTHERN MAN" comes on. 'nuff said.

Tomorrow: New Orleans 2.0