mother’s day

(click photo to view video)

my mother is not from long island; nor, does she have red hair or a penis.

but the attitude is the same.

Editor’s note:
yes, ma. all you’re gettin’ from me is this damn blog post.
it’ll teach you a lesson, not to have a 12 year old mow the lawn in august in new orleans.
i coulda died it was so hot.

les poppys

les poppys

sometimes i think i should have taken french in high school instead of spanish.

but i wanted an easy ‘A’.
(mi tita hablaba español y vivio con nosotros haste que tuve cinco años.)

oh well, ‘c’est la vie‘.

happy mardi gras

happy mardi gras, y’all.

today’s super tuesday primary elections have knocked the yearly carnival bacchanalia off the front page.

but as you sit watching the results on CNN tonight, raise your wine glass to toast your brothers and sisters in new orleans who are celebrating this political season in the most appropriate way possible…

…drunk and partially nude.

out.

ps
a million thanks to Brian Postelle, Mountain Xpress, for the mention of my little writing exercise, distort the info.

to answer Brian’s question, i am a he, unless my home equity loan and mexican visa come through in time for the 2008 guadalajara trannie expo in april.

36 hours in new orleans

taking inspiration from the new york times ‘36 hours in …’ travel series, i present ‘what the fuck did i do for 36 hours in new orleans?’

the itinerary suggestions the last time new orleans was highlighted by the ny times were fine. i’ve gone to every place on their list. there is not one clunker among their choices.

but using the photos i took from my christmas trip back to new orleans, how about this?

first, white linen tablecloths and gay waiters don’t come cheap. leave less than a 20% tip and you’ll get an every so subtle snear.

so sometimes quantity is better than quality. since the clock is ticking down to your flight home, just get a few hubig’s pies and a jug of your favorite beverage.

since you’ll be too woozy to drive, call united cabs (the drivers love to talk about race relations [i.e. benign racists, bless their hearts]. but they’ve seen it all. get them to talk about their weirdest fares and you’ll have a good time.)

where are you going?

well, of course, to the suburbs to see the ho’.

now that you’re drunk, broke and riding a sugar high, feel free to go ahead and get crazy.

make sure to stop by church to ask forgiveness for what you just done did before heading back to the airport.

“Laissez les bons temps rouler!“

even though i don’t like red…

that, my dear, is a good picture, if i do say so myself.

go on, you know you can skip your daily second venti latte for a week and forward some $.

home sweet home

it’s hard for me to explain why this picture makes me miss new orleans. but it surely does.

if you need a recipe for fun , its:

• diaper
• wig
• make-up
• gun

she’s crazy, but i love her. (i’m talking both about the guy in the photo and new orleans, itself.)

out

oh, and a tiara. a tiara is always good to have around… just in case.

you can open a bottle of beer with it; you can pawn it for bail money; you can use it to signal the rescue plane when you wake up in the swamps after a really, really bad date…

…you know… just in case.

brad pitt tastes bad

sorry, i meant to say, ‘brad has bad taste’.

his commitment to rebuild a part of the 9th ward area of new orleans is admirable. my sister and i went to see the ‘pink houses’ during our christmas visit. there was an exhibit on view to highlight the development process of the proposed home designs to go up in the area.

most were novel approaches to building on the flood-prone, long, narrow lots typical of new orleans.

the model shown above is the one i think is in bad taste.

katrina pushed, pulled and upended everything in that particular neighborhood. why would building a house that looks like it’s cracked in two be a good idea? it’s too soon for architectural irony… too soon.

in 10 years when the original owners sell, that area is going to be one super hot neighborhood.

here are the other house designs.

out.

ps

a couple of days before we went to see the development. my aunt went. she was driving around the area. a lady stopped her and asked if she had a minute talk.

she said ’sure’.

exit p.r. assistant; enter mr. pitt. he asks my aunt, ‘are you having a good day? yes? great, i’d glad to hear it. bye.’

thanks to that slighty strange conversation, you, dear reader, are now only 5 degrees separated from maddox.

how cool is that?

a creole christmas

i went back to new orleans for christmas.

new orleans is a wonderful place, a radiant phoenix rising out of the swamps.
(the cynical among you may think my cheerleading has to do with trying to sell my fucking condo there. shame on you. i excrete sincerity.)

i drove down with my sister who also lives in north carolina. she hadn’t been down for 2 years. one of our goals was to get a sense of the state of the city.

the most heartening single development i saw was on world famous st. charles ave.

borders is renovating the termite-infested former bultman funeral home. i know most people would prefer to keep the avenue all residential. but the location has been commercial forever. so the building, as it was, could have easily become a chinese buffet or a t-shirt shop.

that reno is going to cost a fortune, bless their hearts.

more stuff about 2007 new orleans to follow.

CU

the blizzard of ‘08

i experienced my first snowfall in the asheville mountains this tuesday.

i lived in the snow country of japan for 2 years. i never got a day-off then because of snow. those people don’t let a blizzard, let alone 2 inches of snow, keep them from work. before i got a car, i had to bicycle in the snow to get to work. they’re the #2 economy in the world for a reason. those bitches don’t play.

after 10 years in new orleans, LA and orlando, i got as nervous and excited as any other snow virgin.

i was too scared to drive the car, terrified of driving on ice with summer tires. so i had a snow day with the dogs. the older dog was confused for a minute. but he was running around like gazelle on coke for the rest of the day. the puppy just licked at the snow a bit, pissed and whined to go back inside.

another example of youth wasted on the young.

out.

ps
i’m not saying people around here have no common sense. i’m just curious why the gas company employee who came to the house to mark the underground gas lines prior to construction on the garage sprayed the yellow lines on the snow.

this is not antarctica. there is no permafrost.

the snow will be done in a day; won’t the pipeline marks be as well? if the contractor cuts a gas line and my house explodes, i’ll sue…

…right after i get out of the hospital.

christmas new orleans style

i’m off to new orleans for christmas.

please don’t rob my house while i’m gone. i have no cash or jewels laying about anyway. but there are 20 lbs. of purina one, chicken flavor, in the pantry if you’re really hungry.

i don’t have a laptop. and my mother doesn’t own a computer even though she inadvertently came up with the name for this blog.

so no blog entries from me for a while.

for 2008 i wish all of yall, health, happiness and a cheaper, faster iphone.

i’m probably turning ‘mac’ this coming year, the chinese year of the rat. can’t wait.

it’s a little early, but
新年あけましておめでとうございます

ps

my fucking condo is still for sale in new orleans.

here’s a deal for all my ‘distort the info’ readers:

close on my house before 01/30/08 and get a 10% rebate on the purchase price.

i’m not kidding. i’ll give you the money in new $100 bills so you can lay them out on your bed and roll around in them like demi moore in ‘indecent proposal’.

little pink houses for you and me

that damn hurricane hit over 2 years ago.

lots of people ask me ‘how’s it going in new orleans?’

all the places tourists go are fine. new orleans’ economy runs on the hospitality industry. everyone there would LOVE you to go visit. without the energy of visitors, the locals are apt to keep looking backwards, like miss havisham.

but in the suburbs of new orleans, it’s surreal bureaucracy.

my mother lives in those suburbs. the flood waters washed away soil under the foundation of her house. so foundation cracked from the weight of the house. now the house tilts to one side.

a couple of weeks ago she finally got a letter from the government saying her house qualified for a foundation repair grant.

the approval took 800 days ?!?

here’s the cherry on top:

the letter also said there is presently no money in the redevelopment fund to issue a check; maybe in next year’s budget.

huh?

as is my nature…

my car getting shot at has made me reflect quite a bit on the situation i’ve created for myself.

the most important thing i’ve confirmed is that i am NOT running away from a tough situation. if my car got tagged because of my race, creed, gender or sexual proclivities, my attitude is ‘bring it on, mutha-fucker. bring it on.’

come up to the house, ring the doorbell and tell me to my face that you’ve got a problem with me.

as is my nature, i will politely listen to what you’ve got to say. who knows, you may have some insight that hasn’t crossed my mind.

unless that happens, i’m not changing one thing about my life.

i worked like a dog to afford a house and a fancy car (please refer to anthony hopkins’ character in ‘remains of the day‘).

i’m not getting rid of them. and asheville is not easily getting rid of me.

so ’suck it’, mr. shooter. i’ve got things to do.

out.

lone gunman theory

thanks to everyone for their advice about what to do about my shooter.

here is some of the advice i’ve gotten so far:

• move back to new york
• sell the fancy car
• change from a louisiana to a north carolina license plate
• buy night vision goggles for a stake-out
• stop blogging about the neighbors
• hurry up and get the garage finished

these are all under advisement.

meanwhile, i remain on the lookout for the perpetrator(s).

if you see a teenager that looks like (s)he has ever even thought of holding a paintball gun, go ahead and kick him in the balls. he may not have shot my car, but i’m sure he’s done something worth getting busted for.

a preemptive strike, as the bushies would say.

the ball-busting won’t work on a girl, so just call her ‘fat’.
that will hurt just as bad.

a quick dedication

this entry is dedicated to lil’ ray-ray.

see, ray-ray, i understand the kind of energy you’re trying to put out into the world.

out.

smal biznez

i’ve previously mentioned business ideas (or, at least, names) that started in new orleans and have sprung up in asheville.

i didn’t mean to imply that mountain folk completely lack the entrepreneurial spirit that has made this country what it is today.

for example, around here all the supplies you need to start a catering company are easily found around your home:

1978 chevy 1500
plywood
duct tape
bowie knife
barbecue grill
boom box
propane
black marker
weathervane
shotgun

good luck
and
bon appétit

agnostics, pagans and grinches, oh my!

the last entry was how city life and country life can be different. both places can be wacky. they just head to wacky town in their own way.

today is how both the city and country can both be a pain in the ass; namely parades.

new yorkers complain about the puerto rican day parade, the gay pride parade, the st. patrick’s day parade, etc, etc.
they aren’t necessarily against hispanics, the queer community, drunken child abusers, etc. etc.

they just hate the disruption in traffic.

new orleanians suffer through the same problems during mardi gras. (though you should go visit this coming year to help the local economy. they’re hurtin’.)

asheville had a christmas parade on saturday…a beautiful day for fresh-faced families with strollers and folding chairs to visit downtown and begin the joyous holiday season.

just one problem…

every major street in downtown was barricaded.

even though i went to catholic school for 12 years, i have nothing against religion or the celebration of quasi-religious events (the parade is co-sponsored by the asheville merchant corp., uh-huh.).

it’s just that i had things to do. having moved here only 2 months ago, i only know one way to go to each of the places on my to-do list. when downtown is closed off, i’m fucked.

if asheville is the progressive town it heralds itself as, i propose that the city issue a bond initiative to cover the cost of GPS systems for all new residents that do not want to celebrate any holiday with a parade. the machines can be distributed through the county library system to ensure only residents get the systems. there can be a one year borrowing limit after which the systems have to be returned.

come on, how reasonable is that?

i’m not saying saying ‘cancel the damn parades.’ i’m just sayin’ help the uninterested get around them.

i envision a grand coalition of agnostics, pagans and grinches rising up to demand easy access to malls, dry cleaners and chinese restaurants 365 days a year. i’m sure greenlife will let them set-up a petition table at their entrance…

or just contact your local representative.

thank you for your support.

buggy butt

in new orleans you can take a 30 minute carriage ride around the french quarter for $10 a person. maybe because historically the buggy was there first, car drivers are very patient when stuck behind one of these. i lived and worked in the french quarter for 15 years. i never heard a driver using his horn to try to get a slow-moving carriage out of the way.

there are no horse and buggy tours in downtown asheville, not yet anyway. but i did notice a similarity in driver patience.

at about 4pm this past friday, 2 cyclists were riding together on broadway st taking up a whole lane of traffic. here’s the thing, not one car in the caravan stuck behind them leaned on its horn to try to get them out of the way.

again, as a gay, i don’t mind watching lycra-encased buttocks pump up and down for a couple of blocks. but i think it’s interesting that neither did the bubba in the pick-up, the lesbian in the SUV, or the dreadhead in the old volkswagen…

…very interesting.

out.

french quarter franchise news

here’s another asheville business that is stripping new orleans of its heart and soul.

all the memories of the hairdresser i dated from eclipse new orleans came flooding back when i saw this sign. what’s the point of having moved 700 miles away if the ghost of lost loves can still find me?

new orleans franchise report

here’s another one.

somebody call benji.

i hope all this franchising leads to direct flights between new orleans and asheville.

C U

not the same without the 100% humidity

i guess one way for post-katrina new orleanians to survive is to franchise the businesses that make the city unique, then hope people will be curious to go back and find the real thing.

here’s one for lil’ray-ray:

so far i’ve seen these. but i’m on the lookout for more.

C U

that’s stupid

my subaru project is on hold.

i have family visiting for a couple of weeks from new orleans.

when my aunt asked, ‘what are you taking a picture of?’ i explained about the subaru epidemic in ashevile.

she just looked blankly at me and said ‘uh…huh?’ which translated means ‘that’s stupid.’

that takes the fun out of the project. i can’t be on the lookout for my next shot when, in my peripheral vision, i can see her shaking her head in disbelief.

i’m still gonna do it. i just have to wait until i get her back on the plane to new orleans.

i’m not sure how ‘buzzkill’ translates into japanese.

out.

BYOT (bring your own towel)

this is a true story from new orleans:

my dog didn’t just dig up something in my mother’s backyard. he caught something in my mother’s backyard.

the day after i gave my sister my old computer, mine stopped working. so i brought mine to best buy to get fixed.

i had to go to my mother’s to use my sister’s computer.

i brought my dog. i put him in the backyard and left the french doors open so he could come back in.

after about 20 minutes i hear the dog running up and down the hallway; he’s sprinting back and forth.

i go see what’s going on.

he’s got something in his mouth.

what does he have?

a dove. a fuckin’ dove.

he caught a dove ?!? my dog killed something ?!?

i make him drop it. the bird is still alive.

there is a dazed and confused dove in my mother’s hallway.

i know i’ve got to get the dove out of the house. but i don’t want to touch it because of bird-flu or rabies or whatever. so i get a towel from the bathroom, drop it over the whole bird, then grab it to take it outside.

the bird cooperates. i set it down in a shaded corner of the backyard. the bird does not immediately fly away.

i think ‘oh, shit. the dog really caught and killed a dove.’

i don’t turn back to check on the bird. i couldn’t deal with the consequences. for all i know, the bird is still there.

no blood on the dog or the hallway. but there were a lot of feathers. hopefully he just shook the bird and got it dizzy. so now the bird is back flying around with its other birdie friends.

i can’t return to my mother’s backyard for fear of finding a dove skeleton.

(btw, it was not the white dove of peace or the catholic holy spirit. it was one of those light brown ones, but definitely not a pigeon. again, listen carefully, my dog did not kill the holy spirit!)

also if you ever go to my mother’s house, bring your own towel. the bird-flu infected one is still there somewhere.

out.

bye-bye, Millie

my sister’s dog passed away today.

Millie was the perfect lap dog.

we took many naps together.
i slept on my stomach.
she slept on my back.

5 pounds of friendship
in animal form.

bye-bye, Millie.

damn! she was a cute dog.

what is part of millie’s legacy for us?

she helps to remind everyone of the power
of a good haircut.

she is older in the photos with the shorter hair,
but looks like a puppy again in her new ‘do.

she was nine, but could have passed for 1.

is it me ?

here’s an observation about north carolina:

lots of fuckers don’t return messages.

in 2 weeks my list includes:

landscaper
banker (Wachovia)
attorney
furniture repairman
realtor (no, not you, jude)
art dealer

i’m not getting an asheville landline.

could it be that the 504 area code is confusing people?

or

is it because i call them ‘fuckers’ when they don’t call back?

about

a year ago i lived in manhattan at 23rd st and 8th ave.

i went back home to new orleans to close my company because of that damned katrina.

now i’m in asheville, north carolina watching the leaves change color from my rocking chair.

no one has a clear view of their lives or where they’ll end up. it’s hard to be objective about yourself. nevertheless, we all try to manage how we see ourselves and how others see us.

as my momma said ‘te estoy diciendo esto para que sapes lo que ha estado pasando, no para que puedas “distort the info”

distorttheinfo@gmail.com

C U