Hurricane Mix

I took a bike ride. The I-10 was just about empty. At Xavier they were putting some newspaper dispensers on the back of a truck.

Homan came by with some hurricane mix. We made a few drinks and, with Xy, took a walk to the Bayou St. John to see what we could see before the curfew was imposed. Jason joined us there with a couple friends. We did observe some national guard troops passing by in trucks, but other than that there was little to see.

Even now, no rain, little wind. Looks like Mobile will be getting it bad, though.

Here’s what’s in my hurricane mix in iTunes:

Butterflies and Hurricanes	Muse
Calm Before The Storm	Fall Out Boy
Electrical Storm (William Orbit Mix)	U2
Hurricane	Bob Dylan
Hurricane	Roots, Common, Dice Raw, Mos Def
Hurricane (weather patterns)	something corporate
Hurricane Party	Cowboy Mouth
Hurricane Storm Warning #1	Leopolds
Hurricane Storm Warning #2	Leopolds
Riders on the Storm	The Doors
Storm (Feat. Jay-Z)	Lenny Kravitz
Stormy Blues	Billie Holiday & BB King
Stormy Weather	Billie Holliday
Stormy Weather	Nat King Cole & Ella Fitzgerald

I would have included “Rock You Like A Hurricane” and “Ridin’ the Storm Out,” but I can’t really stand to listen to the Scorpions or REO.

Fifteen Year Streak

Fifteen years ago today, I was arrested on the campus of Indiana University for not wearing clothes.

Even after all this time, I can’t think of anything more to say about the incident. I already said it all, in an article I wrote eight years or so ago for bc magazine, under the tutelage of Bill Bauer. I still think it’s one of the best things I’ve written.

Thanks, Bill, for having the vision to develop that story.

O.A.K., Burning

Last night Xy and I rode our bikes uptown for the Midsummer Mardi Gras celebration. This takes place every year in late August. I guess that qualifies as “the middle of summer,” never mind the fact that midsummer is technically the first day of summer, which falls in late June. It’s confusing enough even if you’re sober, and nobody’s sober at Midsummer Mardi Gras. For sure it’s the hottest, sweatiest, stickiest time of year in New Orleans — in other words, perfect time for a pack of half-naked drunkards to strut through the dark uptown streets accompanied by a funk-blastin’ brass band. It’s the Krewe of O.A.K second line parade. O.A.K. stands for “outrageous and kinky.”

What freaked me out more than anything else was how big this thing’s gotten. I guess it’s been going for 18 years or so. When I did it a couple years ago, it was relatively tiny. Now it’s huge. There were motorized vehicles: a bunch of golf carts with giant heads on top. And there were political ads: Una Anderson is running for re-election to the school board, and she had signs and literature all over. And there was a “real” brass band there: the Li’l Stooges.

Somehow the whole thing seemed a little crazier and a bit more fun when it wasn’t so massive. But it was still a good time. The coolest thing I saw a guy (Frenchie?) with a light strapped to his head and a canvas mounted in front of him via a chest harness; he was dancing and painting a picture of the parade. I saw Heather Weathers there with the Pussyfooters. There was a also a large contingent of scantily-clad women called the Bearded Oysters. A Xavier prof was with the Not-So-Swift Boat Veterans for Bush. And of course there was an Olympic Synchronized Drinking Team.

My friend David Bryan was dressed as a priest. He decanted Jesus Juice all night: red wine spiked with Skol vodka. Every bit as nasty as it sounds, I’m sure, but I was already too anesthetized to care.

The parade starts at the Maple Leaf and proceeds to Carrollton Station, then to Snake & Jake’s, then back to the Maple Leaf. Xy and I got some grub, then rode our bikes back to Mid-City.

We got to bed around two or three o’clock Sunday morning. Then, around five o’clock, Xy heard sirens, and discovered that the house across the street was on fire. Yikes! It’s been divided into four apartments, and huge flames were shooting up from the back of an unoccupied unit. It was really quite terrifying, but the fire was extinguished in short order and no one was hurt.

Sucker?

A couple of weeks ago, PJ mentioned he’d recently tutored a mutual acquaintance of ours on some of the finer points of Web authoring.

“Yeah,” I said, “I’ve tutored him many times.”

“But I bet you’ve never gotten paid!”

And PJ pulled out his wallet. Sure enough, he had a personal check for $120. Then he explained his policy: He charges $40 an hour for consultations, with a three-hour minimum.


Two nights ago, I got a call from a woman named Tammy. She said she was a friend of my boss. She had some questions about a website for her company, and my boss had suggested that she call me. We arranged a time to get together.

It so happened that PJ was there, at my house, when I got this call. I hung up, and his reaction was immediate: “I’d charge $40 an hour with a three-hour minimum.”


So this morning I met with Tammy and spent a little less than one hour looking at her HTML and answering her questions. She was friendly and intelligent, and I enjoyed helping her. I felt like she really understood what I was saying and got a lot out of it.

But I didn’t charge her a penny. And what I’m wondering is: Am I a nice guy, or just a sucker?

Xy & Rachel Give Thanx

Rachel & Xy

It’s Rachel taking a smoke break in front of her house in Baltimore. Xy is wearing a scarf Rachel knitted for her. But who took the picture? I don’t think Rachel’s arm can reach that far. Maybe it was Benn. Maybe it was me. I don’t remember.