September 20 to October 1 New Orleans

Alluring and Repulsive. The two adjectives that I read on the placard in the swamp, the two adjectives that the forest interpreters have chosen to describe the incredible wetness and vibrancy of the bayou. Two words that they give us Dry Land folks from the North to hold on to. The two adjectives become words that I use to interpret, to make sense of what I see. Smell. Taste. And feel. Like the man that Amy and I follow on out of the bayou, a sweet man with a thick accent who’d grown up hunting everything in the bayou for meat: ‘gatrs, d’r, sqr’l’ (what hpp’n t’ll th vw’ls dn suth?). He walked along on soft feet like a tracker and found us turtle egg nests and huge spiders along the way. The repulsive part? His cologne. Amy, thought it disgusting and hung way back. It reminded me of my dad and so I followed close.

Other repulsive/alluring things about New Orleans:
The Paupers Cemetery in City Park, with all of its crooked and broken (mostly handmade) markers (not many were stone…many were cement or plywood).

Bourbon Street. Perhaps more repulsive and less alluring than the Cemetery. Every other bar was an odd neon open-faced fun-house filled with swirling daiquiri mixes and blaring dumb music way too loud. The other half of the bars were filled with more dumb live music, either CCR covers or postcard versions of Cajun music. Oh. Also, plenty of pictures of naked ladies and an occasion scantily clad lady, encouraging passersbys to come in.

The Clover Grill. At the end of Bourbon Street. Small, cheap and disgusting greasy spoon. I was looking for a bookstore and asked my waiter if he knew of any nearby. You’re not in the right place for ‘intellectual ‘ pursuits his reply.

Frenchmen Street. Much more alluring. In fact there wasn’t anything repulsive about it at all. Every night, instead of returning home to flip through the TV channels, we walked down Frenchmen street trying to decide between Brass Band music, French Django-esque Jazz, Washboard Chaz and his funky blues (he let me play my Saw on a tune).

Second Line. One of the most awesome things I’ve ever seen. A mini Mardi Gras that happens every Sunday year round. The Second Lines are put on by Pleasure Clubs and are basically marching bands surrounded by dancing folks (98% black) that surge through the city for four or five hours, dancing around cars, stopping traffic and generally causing everyone who is nearby to smile. I have not been around such pure buoyancy before. MmmHmm.
It was especially bittersweet as we danced down streets that seemed much more affected by Katrina than other areas. The smell of Death was all over the city (literally), but we were hopping and sidestepping and grooving along, trying to clear it up, psychically.

The Condo-fication of NOLA. Repulsive, there’s big changes in N’awlins. Developers have bought up all the wreckage and are turning it all into way expensive places to live and driving up rents. Half of the people I’ve met down here have just moved here.
A friend down here told me rents used to be $200 to $300. Now it’s more like $800 to $900. The tourist parts of the city seem bustling. Most people can’t afford to come back to a city that is SO RICH culturally, artistically, Soulfully. The city, full of seemingly empty condos, is at 40% population.

The Calliope. From a mile away you can hear this musical instrument. And it is the apidomie of alluring and repulsive. Take a look and listen.

My Last Show. Performed by last show of the tour tonight. My favorite show so far. It was electric. The last show always has this sort of energy and it both pisses me off and gives me hope. Before the show, I had been thinking, maybe I’m done with this show, maybe it’s lost it’s allure to me, and that’d be okay, it’s been a great run. But during the show, I threw all of it out the window (‘it’ being ‘knowing’ what I’m doing), and connected fully with myself and with the material.
Also what was different tonight, besides it being the last show, was my warm up: I played songs that energized me and got me moving, but also looked for songs that evoked strong memories that are long gone. Also, I took time to lay down with my dog and do some eye gazing with the most special creature in my life. More than my Best Friend, he’s been my Best Coworker, and Peaknuckle does all of it so that he’ll be near me (and so that I’ll give him tasty beef T-R-E-A-T-S shhh! he might hear me think the word).

So. It’s important to remember that with a form like Theatrical Clown, I’ve got to come on stage Each Time like it’s the last, like my life depends on it, like, like I don’t know. Because I don’t, and when ever I think I do, I’m lying.
MmmmHmmm.�