HOUND DOG SWAN SONG

Clearing Out

I skipped coffee and breakfast Saturday morning—my groceries were still packed up!—but didn’t want to show up before 10:00 since Debra bartended until 3a.m., so instead pulled out my acoustic guitar and sat on the porch serenading John Fohl’s dogs one last time (though they had eventually tired of howling at me). Monday night I had stopped by Dos Jefes Uptown Cigar Bar to watch John perform while I still lived nearby. He stopped by to chat before the set and caught me again a few days later as I was getting in my truck. When I asked him about that gig, he revealed he’s held it down since moving to town over a decade and a half ago. Impressive! Felling ballsy, I asked him about his solo career after parting ways with Dr. John—he’s busy gigging with other artists—and we fell into a conversation about the quirkiness and difficulty of musicians. A few years ago I had formed a ‘living room band’ with a close friend. I was fully aware of our limited talent and potential, so was shocked when egos tore us apart. Perplexed and depressed by the experience, I fell in with a small blues and R&B band where I could hide from sight and sound on rhythm guitar yet again egos and musician flakiness took their toll. I commented that if egos could be strong in such extremely amateur settings, I couldn’t imagine dealing with truly talented professionals. John just shook his head and laughed as if to say, “If you only knew…” He seems to be that rare person who is as nice as he is talented and I’m embarrassed that he’s heard me so many times on the porch fumbling on guitar; hopefully he was asleep as I serenaded his dogs one last time.

ONE MORE ABODE ON MY LONG & WINDING ROAD

Even though Debra had said any time after 10:00 would work, I was determined to be right on time. Thus I was fully packed by a quarter after 9, having sheepishly asked a neighbor’s roofer to help me load my futon. Thinking yesterday was my last day, I had already completed my final errand by asking Nancy the meaning of a painting hanging above the toilet that had perplexed me for months every time I went to urinate: [Read more…]

POST FEST REFLECTIVE DISORDER

Chris Tusa & I Forgot To Coordinate Hats For The First Reading!

After my pre-Fest networking spree, Jazz Fest itself kept me busy for the next three weeks (as hopefully you’ve already read!) dancing, blogging, eating, and, well, not really drinking—I only imbibed one of my seven days, finding I had more energy and could avoid the long portalet lines. Seven days of Jazz Fest was wonderful but definitely sensory overload, which in turn set off this period of reflection.

Not that that’s a bad thing. During this lull, in addition to a short respite in Florida, I’ve found a fabulous apartment on Decatur Street, caught up on the blog and other writing, explored Uptown like a local, and connected with a group of local writers.

A WRITER FRIEND OF A WRITER FRIEND OF A WRITER FRIEND

I’ve frequently mentioned my friend, Chris Tusa, who teaches at LSU and has written an excellent debut novel set in New Orleans, Dirty Little [Read more…]

TO SCHIZOPHRENIC OR NOT TO SCHIZOPHRENIC 

Titling A Post ‘The Voice’ Is A Fine Excuse To Include A Picture Of Shakira!

This has been my longest blogging break in a while. Although partly due to getting wrapped up in the novel I’m preparing to release on Kindle, Jeremiah’s Scrapbook, (more about that later!) it has more to do with the fact that, during this series of post titled ‘The Voice’ I’m searching for, well, my voice.

I know that sounds crazy for someone who’s already posted over 50 articles and has a unique, sarcastic way with words (see section headings) that can be an obstacle when I do freelance work for magazines that want you to conform to an anonymous, unified voice. I guess, then, what I’m seeking is not ‘a voice’ but ‘which voice.’

This Is Completely Irrelevant; I’ve Just Been Looking For An Excuse To Use It

This blog is at times confessional (such as these last two posts), at times a travelogue, at times food and music reviews, at times an exploration of unique cultural trends such as Mardi Gras Indians or St. Joseph’s Day, and usually a blend of all the above. As I try to build a consistent audience, I’m wondering whether I’m best served with this scattershot, all-inclusive approach or if I should focus more on my difficulties and triumphs adapting to the city (confessional), my adventures in the city (vicarious), the city’s culture and oddities (reporting), or opinions on food, music and festivals (reviews). For now I’ll continue to do all the above but can’t help but wonder if, over time, one won’t stand out as ‘the voice’ I need to adopt to build a readership.

TOM PETTY: THE DALAI LAMA OF IMPATIENT BLOGGERS

My Guru

That readership has grown (thank you, regulars), but has been averaging near forty to sixty daily page hits on average for a while.  I’ve had a few days of over a hundred hits, approaching 150, but haven’t been able to remain there and continue to climb. Hoping to grow, I’ve been out networking at every opportunity; I’ve passed out hundreds of business cards for the blog, attended book salons, reached out to local authors, talked to strangers in bars and at festivals, contacted magazines and one radio station, reached out to other bloggers, and pretty much flung myself in every direction I can think. It will take time to grow, but, as Tom Petty says, “The waiting is the hardest part.”

BY AIR(WAVES) AND BY SEE (ME, NOT EMAIL)

I had one particularly promising day right before Jazz Fest where it seemed the stars were aligning. I hopped on my bike in Uptown and after a stop by the Superdome to buy my tickets, peddled into the French Quarter for a lovely breakfast in The Old Coffee Pot, not realizing that such courtyard breakfasts would be in reach every day since at the time I had no intentions to ever move to the Quarter. Afterwards, I stopped by WWOZ, the local public radio station that is a fierce supporter of local music, regularly inviting local musician on the air. Even though they were busy passing out festival ‘Brass Passes,’ I was greeted enthusiastically, given and tour, and introduced to the operations director as though they had a true interest in my project.

Next I stopped by Offbeat. I’d been emailing with follow-up pitches ever since my Krewe of Rocckus article with no response. Fortunately the editor was in and once I had him face-to-face, he easily agreed to some Jazz Fest reviews and a story on a Robin Barnes. He also seemed optimistic the website could link my articles back to my blog. Score!

WHEN DUCKING DOWN A BLIND ALLY ON A STRANGER’S ADVICE ACTUALLY WORKS OUT

And, Alas, A Bike Shop Appeared From The East

Next I took a bike ride toward the lake to scout the Fairgrounds for Jazz Fest, though my luck took a seeming turn for the worse when I blew a tire, pulling out my phone to discover the closest bike shop was miles away across the bayou. Steaming, I started the long trek pushing my bike, stopping at a service station to futilely pump the tire and later asking a guy with a truck outside a convenience store for a lift (he wasn’t going my way and didn’t really seem to care.)

Heading down Orleans Avenue through a part of the city that I wasn’t familiar with and that didn’t seem the worst but didn’t seem the best either, a young man stopped to chat. When I told him I had a flat, he pointed down a road to a cluster of industrial buildings and said, “There’s a bike shop back there. Just cross the railroad tracks and go behind that big warehouse.”  I was a little wary. It didn’t like the place where any business would be, let alone a bike shop. Was there someone waiting back there to clock me and take my money? Did he know I was broke?! I cautiously eased down the road as he watched and yelled directions from afar, walking in the middle to leave space between me and anyone lurking around the corner. When I finally rounded to the back of the large, rusty warehouse sure enough there was a little bike shop in an open garage—no frills. I had to wait for the guy to get back from lunch, but he treated me fair, did a good job, and turned out to be an entertaining eccntric, claiming to be the first registered Libertarian in Louisiana.

IF LENNON & MCCARTNEY HAD MET IN A BIKE SHOP

Ok, It Was Actually At A Garden Party

As he worked on my bike, a guy came in cursing and pushing his street bike, threw it on a rack, and began changing his tire. “You’re quite comfortable here,” I said with a laugh. He smiled and said he used to work there but had recently returned to his previous life as a singer/songwriter. We started talking music, politics, and life in general, swapping business cards to perhaps get together and collaborate. Later I listened to his stuff online and was quite impressed so made a point to stop by one of his regular gigs.

I never heard back from any of my follow-up queries to WWOZ, despite their enthusiams, and Offbeat continues to be difficult to reach, though I do have an article and review coming out this weekend and am interviewing Robin Barnes Monday; for some reason, though, I doubt I’ll ever get those back-links to my blog. Tonight I’m heading over to Vince’s, the bike shop musician, to jam and see if we hit on any worthy ideas. It’s two steps forward and one back, but progress all the same.

TO BE CONTINUED….

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‘HILLBILLY HEMINGWAY’ FINDS A ROOM WITH A VIEW

Good news! I found a place to live after months of dead ends and frustration. And it’s in, of all places, the French Quarter. I never thought I’d ever actually move there, largely searching in more residential neighborhoods like Irish Channel and Lower Garden District, but responded to an ad on a whim. The rent was reasonable and the roommate was going to be mostly absent, staying with her daughter, so when she responded with pictures that included this view I had to check it out.

Although skeptical as a lady dropped me the key from the third floor balcony, allowing me to let myself into the narrow wire and pipe ridded service ally, I was instantly seduced by the Hemingway-esque panorama when I topped the stairs out back. The bedroom for rent would look out to this view as does the bath, and most of those rooftops are part of [Read more…]