Travelog 191026 (Redacted Version)

Start: Parked on the corner of Marias & Governor Nicholls St, in the Tremé district of New Orleans, Louisiana. 

End: Parked on the corner of Marias & Governor Nicholls St, in the Tremé district of New Orleans, Louisiana.

Quotent Quotables: 

  • “Have you ever had a New Orleans sweet potato? You don’t have to add anything. They come out the ground sweet.” -[Redacted], my waiter at Willie Mae’s Scotch House. 
  • “I wonder if a Chihuahua with Parkinson’s just doesn’t move.” -Me. 
  • “People in New Orleans all get along. If you come to New Orleans and you can’t get along with anybody, there’s something wrong with you.” -[Redacted], my Uber driver. 

Exciting Events: 

  • Awoke at 1pm. My first Day in New Orleans and I was out til 5am… 
  • Wrote a reply to [redacted] letter. 
  • Ate incredible soul food in the Tremé district. 
  • I asked an Uber driver how the city is different after Katrina. He said “it’s not.” And pointed to a pothole that’s been here since before the storm. He evidently isn’t impressed by any political change. 
  • [Redacted]’s after-party
    • Apropos of nothing, a man [redacted] on the couch next to me, 
    • I ask a woman why she spends time around these people. She says, (paraphrase) “because all the women tell me I’m beautiful.” 
  • Halloween party with intense [redacted] demonstrations (like [redacted]), where the band played Pink Floyd for an hour. 
  • Video call with [redacted] both right before he went to bed (my 9pm) and right after he woke up the next day (my 5am). 

Real Realizations: 

  • The people I’ve met here live to party. It’s cheap and exciting and pacifying and hollow. 
  • I’ve been [redacted] but all of it feels empty [redacted]. 

Commonplace occurrences: 

  • Completed [redacted] outline: another [redacted]. 

Delicious Delectables: 

  • Fried chicken and sweet potato fries at Willie Mae’s Scotch House, New Orleans. 

  • The best chicken tenders of my life, at Key’s Fuel (the gas station near my friend’s house). 
  • All That Jazz sandwich: ham, turkey, cheese, shrimp, mushrooms, and a white sauce. So good! Shockingly so! I expected it to be weird from the shrimp but it was not.
    • Everything I’ve eaten in New Orleans has been delicious. 

[Redacted]

Alluring Activities: 

  • Afterparty with [redacted] tonite. Do I go? It only starts at 2am… 

Travel Log 191025 (Redacted Version)

Start: Parked on a public street outside Walmart, West Houston, TX 

End: Parked on the corner of Marias & Governor Nicholls St, in the Tremé district of New Orleans, Louisiana. 

Exciting Events: 

  • Went to a vampire masquerade party, last minute, on a whim. 
    • Carried a mermaid, because it was having trouble traveling on its own (the feet-together tail-hop was ineffective). 

  • [Redacted]
    • [Redacted]
  • [Redacted], Smidge used her pee pad! Yay! No pee on my bed! 

Real Realizations: 

  • Partiers go [redacted] HARD here. 
  • People in New Orleans put serious effort into their costumes. 

Quotent Quotables: 

  • “It is moister than an oyster.” – partygoer, on the copious amounts of rain. 

Commonplace occurrences:

  • Worked for two hours. [Redacted]. Yay! 
  • Phone calls with lotsa friends.
  • Watched the first four episodes of the final season of Bojack Horseman. 
  • Floofed Smidge in delight. 

Delicious Delectables: 

  • A brisket-stuffed burger. Yum! 
    • The Louisianan cashier asked where I was from. I told him to guess. He guessed Australia. 
  • A [redacted] 4am slice of cheese pizza. SO GOOD. 

[Redacted]


Alluring Activities: 

  • Crazy New Orleans happenings! 
  • Letter to [redacted]. 
  • Outline to the [redacted] guys. 

New Orleans Would Agree If It Ever Came Home

On a cold Sunday night with my van heater blasting and a bit of white wine still seeping from my blood, I don’t feel misplaced. Not in the wrong place. Just alone, lonely, sad, and wanting. Maybe that’s this place.

The thing about travel? They don’t tell you it’s lonely. “An adventure of excitement and eye-opening growth.”

Yes, that’s travel. But it’s lonely, too.

It’s me and my dog, one month in our roadtrip. Atlanta, then Texas, now in New Orleans. Friends—some great friends—we met along the way. Yet still it’s just us— me and my dog.

Last night, out til 5, surrounded by parties, I made two new friends that I’m now gonna see. Interesting people with lives and opinions. Better than that, unique, fun, funny, too.

But now, when it’s late, and my sleep schedule’s fucked, I see why someone would get drunk again. Then it’s tomorrow. Who knows what could happen? Who wouldn’t have fun at a New Orleans club?

That’s not a solution. That’s open containers. Vessels transporting liquid from one place to place. People vibrating where they stand, moving forward only in time. Bleary, wide-eyed blobs drink to replace their cold sweat.

Why has this city not changed since Katrina? Why did my cabbie say there’s really no dif?

If you spend your life dancing, you’ve nothing to celebrate. That’s what this is: just an empty, wet kiss. But not one from your grandma or a dog or a lover. Just tongue from someone who, right now, like you, feels alone. Together will be great for the time that it’s lasting, but morning will come and you’ll have to go home.