 |
| Brought back a tray of day-old croissants, milk and other random snacks from the corner shop for the homeless man who sleeps across the street, but he never returned. :( |
I haven't shared much with the masses ("masses" lol...right) lately. I recently experienced a pretty heavy life event that hit me like a ton of bricks. I haven't discussed it with anyone, but the reminder of that event is burdensome and is with me every day - physically and in mind. But it also serves as evidence that what happens to us is the direct result of our own actions. Our own imperfections create our own tsumi 罪.
Enough of that.
So, randomly, I'm in New Orleans. This city is alive. Like that part where Neo realizes he has cool powers and the walls shift. Or something. I'm not a Matrix fan. Its preachy bible-thumping cloaked as an apocalyptic scifi. Which makes it as cheesy as Star Wars.
This city feels like...
Decadence.
So I've always been fascinated with the disco/Studio 54 era. I immediately head to the non fiction>history>culture section in bookstores and study the photos in retrospection books.
Those people did things we would never dream of doing today...having random, unprotected hook-ups without fear of disease or guilt or skankiness. Doing drugs openly. Hard stuff. Even audaciously. The people in the photos seem so carefree and absolved of worry. Their expressions say, "I'm a superhero...nothing can touch me as long as I'm in this space."
These people were regular people. People with bills and families and drama just like the rest of us. But they walked into a club and suddenly became fearless?
That isn't logical.
I finally realized that the mood captured in these amazing stories and pictures were not swayambhu. The sense of invincibility and awesomesauciness was a byproduct of living in that exact moment. Letting that surreal environment - with the rhythmic beats and the glittery shadows and the pomp and la fantaisie - overwhelm their want for normalcy.
They were swallowed by the decadence.
And so that is the best way I can describe New Orleans. It's decadent.
 |
| The aforementioned ominous street. |
I walked the French Quarter last night. Not that huge of a feat. It's maybe 20 blocks total? But when I stopped in the middle of a dark street that leads to the hustle and bustle of Bourbon Street, I closed my eyes and let the city take me. New Orleans - with it's rich, dark history and eclectic people and gauche - it's provocative. And like those people who use to pose their way into Studio 54, in this city, I don't think about my bills or my worries or responsibilities. Or my recent traumatic bout. I only feel an overwhelming sense of abandon and decadence.
The city has me.
And then I realized I'm still on Detroit time which is one hour later and I cabbed my old ass back to the hotel.
Also, I lost 6 lbs. in the last month, and I gained it all back this weekend eating pralines and poutine and crawfish.
What I Bought
The Last Party - a collection of photos and mayhem from the Studio 54 nights
Spirit Airlines - my choice for cheap Detroit>Nola flights
Cafe Beignet - best beignets in the FQ (and recommended over Cafe Du Monde by locals)
