-
Strippers and Covid: A love story
I wasn’t going to share this story, mainly because it doesn’t cast me in the best of light, for a variety of reasons, and I gotta figure at some point I’m gonna find someone else to date down the line, and when I do, and she finds this post, I’m not sure what I’ll say. But you know what? It’s Mardi Gras day and there’s no fucking Mardi Gras. And that’s not because of the sleet of ice on the ground or the frosty wind in the air, it’s because of that incurable disease known as human stupidity, and I’m all up in my feels about it. And since this…
-
Post #10: Saying Goodbye to Rockbottom with One Last Escape
Something’s not right. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is definitely wrong. But what? I’ve made the proper preparations for the perfect evening. My phone is completely charged, my youtube playlist is ready to go. I have a case of cold light beer chilling in the fridge, I have three separate flasks full of whiskey in three separate rooms, and I’m wearing my freshest socks to ensure some slick risky business-esque slides. Everything is primed for an epic last escape. And yet, something is off. I go and look in the mirror and see perfection smiling back at me. I look like a million bucks with my…
-
Post #9: Looking For a New Home For a Hot Little Pepper
Back in the Before Times, when I used to socialize with others, I had this little trick I would use whenever I felt myself getting angry around my friends (you wouldn’t know it from this blog, but I do have a temper and on occasion I have to be sure to keep it in check). The trick is fairly simple. All I would do when I felt the heat burning underneath my collar was to just say out loud, matter-of-factly, to everyone around me: “You know what, I am a hot little pepper right now.” This is a very effective trick, I’ve learned, because it turns out it’s almost impossible…
-
Post #8: The Landlady Eviction and the Online Outrage That Followed
I turn onto my street from City Park Ave and I feel better than I ever. Sure, my calves are burning like little fires and my ankles are screaming bloody murder, but I’m barely aware any of that, I’m practically floating for this final stretch. Part of this sensation has to do, I imagine, with that runner’s high that athletes love to talk about. I’m finishing up a jog that took me through the park and along the bayou, and then down to the post office and back. That’s a good five miles that definitely sent me on an endorphin rush. So sure, that undoubtedly has something to do with…
-
Going Galatic While The Rona is Hot
It all started with a text on Wednesday from my friend Will. Hey bud, I got an extra seat in my car for the galactic show at UNO. Obviously the rona is hot right now and I completely understand if you want to keep the distance, but the offer stands. At first I thought my friend was losing it. There weren’t any concerts anymore, not in the new normal, not with all the paranoid mouthbreathers refusing to mask up and infecting the rest of us with their stupidity. No, concerts were a thing of the past, and maybe the future, depending on when and if humanity found its intelligence again.…
-
Post #7: Writing a Novel on Privilege Pills (plus the landlady sends a spy)
It’s ten thirty in the morning, mid-April, four weeks into the madness, and I’m supposed to be writing. It’s all I really have anymore. Like millions nationwide, I’m alone with only my thoughts to keep me company. But that’s okay, for me at least, because I’m a writer, so I can write. And I’m so very close to writing, I swear. I’m even repeating my mantra in my head over and over again. Write, you stupid bastard, write! I’m working on my novel, you see. It’s called Grease Traps of Bourbon Street and it revolves around the insanity of the ghost tour world of the french quarter. I really think…
-
Gregory the First, Wilbur the Third, and Three Bloody Feet
All three of us are in the dining room, sitting at the small round table, but I’m the only one who has a vice-like grip on a half-eaten pork chop. And it’s clear that this is making my two roommates rather uneasy. Or, perhaps it’s the fact that I am shaking this piece of meat wildly at them as I shout belligerent threats that’s making them nervous. In any case, they are both still giving me that steely eyed stare that they’ve been giving me for the last twenty minutes, but behind that I detect a certain air of fright. What the hell is he planning to do with that…
-
Post # 6: The Problem with Porn in a Pandemic: an anti-essay
Me (on phone): Hey buddy, it’s Randy, how ya doing? Friend: Hey Randy! How’s it going? How’s quarantine going for you? Me: Fine, fine. You know. Friend: Yeah, yeah, I know. So what’s going on? Me: Well, um, I’m currently writing a piece about porn. Friend: You’re what? Me: I’m writing a piece on porn. You know, the online stuff with naked people who- Friend: Yeah, yeah, I fucking now what porn is. Why the hell are you doing that? Me: I don’t know… I just feel like it’s something no one talks about. Friend: Yeah… for a good reason, that shit’s private. Me: Yeah yeah, but still. I think…
-
Marching in a Strange Land
Prep Walk Down Lafitte’s- It’s a forty minute walk from my place in Mid City to Duncan Plaza in Downtown, where today’s protest is going to be held. It’s only a nine minute drive by car and a thirteen minute ride by bike, but my bike is still in the shop, and I’m nervous about taking my car down there. The truth is, I’m nervous about all of it. I have no idea what to expect, but the online images I’ve seen in the last five days of fires, looting, and rows of menacing police swinging batons and shooting tear gas canisters into crowds invade my mind with every other…
-
Post #5: A Fine, Bitter, Day At the Park (Thanks For Understanding)
It’s the beginning of April, three weeks since lockdown started, and City Park has become my official place of sanctuary. The wonderful, sprawling, accessible City Park. It’s only a five minute walk from my house, and it happens to be bigger than Central Park in New York City. I know this because back in the Before Time that fact seemed to be attached to any conversation about the park. “Oh you’re going to City Park? Isn’t it great? You know it’s bigger than Central Park, right?” Back then, that was just a fun fact to share whenever you wanted to feel slightly superior to those in the Big Apple. But…
