Aggravation (144) Anxiety (94) April Fool (1) Bitchiness (65) Bobby (86) BP (7) Burning in Hell (36) Bush (66) Calme au Blanc (13) Catholic Church (33) Charlotte Cushman (11) Cobalt Blue (26) Confusion (11) Crime (22) Daily Life (145) Dangling Conversations (48) Deep Thoughts (51) Depravity (29) Depression (48) Divertissement (15) Embarrassing Moments (17) Family (44) Friends (110) Frozen (15) Fun (60) Gay (67) Gertrude Stein and a Companion (19) Glass Menagerie (34) Good Things (73) Government (58) Gustav (16) Hate (20) Holidays (36) Hope (38) Hugging the Shoulder (6) Humid City (9) Humor (158) Hurricanes (3) Internets (8) Jesus (5) Justice (6) Katrina (119) Latrine (15) Life in the Quarter (353) Louisiana (12) Mardi Gras (86) Mark Rylance (1) Movie Stars (36) Music (22) Nagin (20) New Orleans (126) News (28) Nighthawks (29) NOLA Partee (1) Obits (12) Our-Leaders-in-Their-Wisdom (111) Outlaw City (126) Personal (406) Photography (532) Pity Post (12) Politics (79) R I P (12) Religion (20) Retirement (11) Righteous Shit (24) Sadness (37) Saints (19) Search-Engine Crap (20) Sex (34) Sick Humor (61) Silly Stuff (152) Southern Decadence (22) Striking Words (23) Stupid Shit (217) Take Me Out (41) Tattoos (18) Tennessee Williams (65) The End (1) The Human Comedy (15) Theatre (510) Thinking Blogger Award (1) Thrill Me (37) Treme (7) Valhalla (42) War (28) Weekly Photo Challenge (41) Weird Shit (9)
Saturday, March 27, 2010
What I get instead are visits from some very good and kind and fascinating people who find themselves on my street and stop to chat with me while I'm sitting on my stoop. The very best of them come back often and trade quips and recipes over beer and gumbo while we party on the banquette (that's New Orleans for sidewalk). Why, I've made lasting friends from as far away as Canada-in-Japan and Greece. There's a wonderful senhora from Rio who lights up my front porch whenever she drops by. Let me not forget the lovely young free spirit from Portland (the city on the left of the U. S., not the one on the right) who's a warm and cuddly tree- and bear-hugger. Why, I even manage to attract others closer to home like the formally elegant librarian from the uptown university district.
These are people I have never met face to face (and perhaps never will), but we meet often, soul to soul, here in the ether. And that is a good thing.
Just yesterday, my senhora pointed me to a blog post written by a young man from Rio di Janeiro in which he compares his current life in Houston to the experience of visiting New Orleans on the eve of this year's Super Bowl. It's a lovely piece. It ends on a foggy night at the edge of the Mississippi River where a musician is playing a lonely saxophone. The young man says, "Mas a felicidade há de chegar e eu tô bem na mira dela." According to Google, that means "But the happiness is here and I'm all right in the sight of it."
Yes, and so am I.
Oh, I see we need more rice!