Who goes there? Please leave comments so (An Aries Knows)!
Photo Friday theme: Futuristic
I know people who live in other parts of the country often shake their heads at Southerners and think we’re lazy. We really aren’t. Things just have to move at a slower pace down here because it’s too damn hot, and especially in our coastal cities, too muggy, to run around like mice hamsters on crack. I think it’s because we do approach life a little slowly that we give more time to conversation and storytelling, and those are things I treasure about being a Southerner.
You’re probably going to get weary of all my NOLA babbling, but there’s just SO MUCH I want to talk about, not to mention SO MANY PHOTOS. I’m spreading it out over many posts as I take breaks from writing, plus there’s a lot to process. The speakers I heard at Saints & Sinners were lovely. The parties were fun. Just hanging out with (alphabetically) David, Lisa, Marika, Mark, Shannon, and Tim (and sometimes Dash!) was amazing. We talked about family, friends, books, writing, traveling, feelings, experiences–it was funny and serious and enlightening. The party at Pat and Michael’s with Greg and Paul and Marika and all the other guests was also good conversation. I met so many new people over my five days, and there are some of them I want to talk about in more detail.
In addition to all the good conversation, some of the things that I enjoyed about being in New Orleans with Lisa (Midwest) and David (Northeast) were:
Hearing David mimic their tour guide, who seems to have put on quite a show as he escorted them around New Orleans. Clearly, he was a man who made the most of a captive audience.
Seeing Lisa eat her first grits. (And the grits are good at the Clover Grill!)
Watching them come to regard palmetto bugs in the true Southern way: as simply another pesky fact of life and better off ignored.
here be photos
I have to confess that I don’t know a lot about the Algonquin Round Table or the group of twenty-plus individuals who were part of it. (I still haven’t seen Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle.) The first big names that come to mind if I think of the Round Table are Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, and Tallulah Bankhead. In fact, until a few minutes ago when I was researching Edna Ferber, I didn’t realize she was one of the Algonquin regulars. I know this is a gap in my literary history, but there’s just never enough time to catch up on the trillions of things I don’t know.
Photo Friday theme: Amber
This is from our brief online time at CC’s coffeehouse in New Orleans.
…that my keyboard is my brain.
Someone I knew seventeen years ago called me because he was trying to determine the last name of someone else we knew–VERY BRIEFLY–also seventeen years ago. He wondered if the last name started with a “T.” I keep lots of records, but I had little hope that the full name was written anywhere. Still, I have a certain journal that I thought might help. Eventually I did find the initials of the person, but the last initial was “H.” I tried and tried to remember the last name, without success.
So I put my hands on my keyboard, closed my eyes, and said, “Just type it.” I came up with an “H” name that is completely uncommon and unfamiliar. I google-imaged the name, and–DAMN!–there he was!
I returned the call and provided the last name.
I find that completely bizarre, since I can’t remember what I ate yesterday.
The Internet rocks.
Here are a couple of paintings my father did late 60s, early 70s. They’re on wooden panels that came out of some piece of furniture. He was really just playing around, but I liked them and ferreted them away to a hiding place so they’d be mine, ALL MINE! The paintings you noticed from Galveston made me remember them (and get Tom to retrieve them from their newest hiding place). Now Tom wants to hang them on the wall behind my desk, and I agree.
I’m loading them through LJ so you can click on them and make them bigger (or embiggen them, as Joe.My.God. taught me to say thanks to The Simpsons).
My sister has a crush on Galveston, Texas, and every time she comes to visit, we try to spend a day there. It’s only an hour away, and we’ve even gone during her winter trips, bundled in sweaters, our photos showing bodies rigid from trying to stave off the icy Gulf breeze. It’s not always tropical days and sultry nights on the Gulf Coast.
Cousin Ron calls the Gulf of Mexico the “Faux-cean.” NOT! Waves? Check. Can you surf them? Sometimes, so check. Sandy beaches? Check. Seaweed? Check. Salt water? Check. Seashells? Check. Jellyfish? Check. Dolphins? Check. SHARKS? Check.
That makes it an ocean, dammit.
The Texas and Louisiana beaches aren’t as pretty to me as the white sands of Florida, Alabama, and Mississippi. And nothing beats the greens and blues of Florida’s Gulf water. But the reason my sister likes Galveston is because it’s old, a little worn down, so it has the same appeal as most Southern cities. In the South, we don’t like everything shiny and new. We like our cities the same way we like our people–with a little mystery, a bit of weathering, a smattering of insanity, and a lot of charm.
On Sunday, Tom and I duly threw the sister in the car and hit the road. Please don’t judge all of Galveston by these photos, as they were mainly taken on the Strand, which is the touristy section of town. They can’t even begin to convey the amazing homes, gardens, and architecture elsewhere on the island. Next trip, maybe.
Here are a few things that caught my eye. In some cases, it almost felt like some of you were standing next to me. I’ll leave it to you to figure that out.
