I Miss New Orleans…

World Famous New Orleans Street Car

I recently spent an enjoyable Saturday afternoon entertaining a friend of mine who is living out the rest of his 20s away from his beloved New York City (Yonkers). He and I nibbled on creole cuisine in Los Angeles of all places (thanks Uncle Darrow’s). He keeps me sane, though I’m unaware if he realizes that, as I endure my time here on the west coast.

Fast forward to a few hours ago. I finally found the time [and confidence] to watch the behind the scenes featurette for the show depicting my hometown: Tremé. (As for the show: I don’t have the heart to watch it yet. [What gives?] I was there, so it brings up a lot of repressed memories, okay!)

Moving on…

My good friend loves when I talk about New Orleans. He says it’s the only time I’m alive. It pained me to watch the featurette.  Then again, it pains me to live in Los Angeles.

Both experiences, unmistakably different, but with a general theme–New Orleans–weigh heavily on my heart. I wanted to squeeze out an emotion for each occurrence, but my “toughness” for wanting to handle difficult situations in life (Hurricane Katrina & my exodus from New Orleans) kicks in and shuts me down.

It’s funny though. Each time I had this silly little grin on my face though. It occurred to me how much of a fish out of water I truly am. I’m robbing myself of  living out my spry, healthy liver, free-flowing days and years (four) in a city that doesn’t offer me much. Yes, I’m outgoing and fun to be around.

Still in ice...

Yes, I’m open minded, etc. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m from New Orleans.

I spoke to my friend for a good hour out in Marina del Rey this past Saturday and to myself for several minutes on the couch tonight about wedding cake/spearmint snowballs with condensed milk, half fried shrimp/half fried soft shell crab Po-boys, Lee Circle, second lines, 7up cake, and what quality gumbo should taste like (thanks Uncle Darrow’s).

Yum, Yum..

So, I need to stop pussyfooting and go home. I need to see her! I haven’t smelled vomit in the morning air from the prior night of locals & tourists drinking way too much and for a long ass time…in unison!

I’ve made the west coast my current place to operate my life from until I return home to the Crescent City. But, I’d like to say I didn’t let the middle part of my 20s go to shit because I was too lazy to hop on a plane and reconnect with the one thing that’s a certainty in my life, the one place that lets me be me: New Orleans.

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