Stress & Distractions

Lately, I've found my life settling into some sense of normalcy for the first time since my time on active duty in the Army which began in 2004.  That is, I've got steady work and a stable home with little likelihood of seismic, life-altering events in the future.  And gradually, I've begun to take better care of myself, eating better, drinking less, exercising more regularly.  Recently, it even occurred to me that I should resume my meditation practice.

This shift revealed one of the chief coping mechanisms I employed during that stressful period--distraction.  I got through active duty by consuming too much bourbon, Playstation 2, and Reno 911.



Immediately after Katrina, I found myself, while completely exhausted, nonetheless staying up to all hours, refusing to sleep, and learned of other New Orleanians doing the same.  And in recent years, my once voracious news consumption has been replaced with a voracious comedy consumption.  The news itself seems like a joke, jokes with many set-ups but the same punchline--The wealthy and powerful are fucking over everyone else.  Now if I'm going to consume jokes, I prefer ones that will make me laugh over those that will make me cry.  Of course, what all of these practices have in common is a desire to avoid reality, to give myself something to think about that is immediately more pleasurable than the horrible circumstances around me.

Over the last few weeks, I've found myself once again in stressful circumstances at work.  There, we're on a tight schedule to turn an exercise in research and development into something that is operational and sell-able. So when I initiated the next task at hand, I thought it would take me a day.  One day became one week then two and three, and gradually, I felt myself move from frustration to confusion and then panic.  And as my stress escalated, I found my good habits eroded by those bad ones.  My distraction low point has got to be one of two events--seeing the Green Lantern movie or playing the old Atari game Adventure.  (Man, were those Atari games shitty.)

Of course, I have fixed the problem at work which is why I'm taking time to write this.  But what's interesting to notice is how, when difficult circumstances arise, those difficult circumstances can overwhelm the entirety of my reality.  In this case, while work was proving frustrating, the rest of my life was fine; it just didn't feel fine.

On the local front, Nicole and I are experiencing the bizarre local weather of June--almost constant, pea-soup-like fog with temperatures never getting higher than 12 C/ 54 F.  I'm not thrilled with it, but I tell myself at least I'm not sweating my ass off.  Nicole has a bigger problem with it.

But speaking of sweating our asses off, we will be in New Orleans from July 22-30.  We hope to see you then.

Catching Up

The demand for a new blog entry has become overwhelming, so here I am, scribbling just to please you, dear reader.

Basically, for the past two months, it's been a bit of a grind--a lot of get up, go to work, chill out a bit, rinse, repeat.  That's OK, but it's a quick way to burn through two months.

One of the ways I've been chilling out is playing poker at a local pub.  I think of myself as a decent player.  I played regularly in Texas and continue to on-line, not gambling in either case, just for fun.  Here, though, I find the style of play . . . different.  A lot of wild bets are being laid.  The last time I played I came as close as I ever have to an outburst in a game ("outburst," ahem, in a bad way).  It's been a few weeks since then.  I might try again today.  I have made some friends and acquaintances through the game, and that was the main point.

I did miss the wedding of my good friend Matt to Veronica, a fact I'm not happy about.

Photographer

Nicole and I were looking forward to it a great deal, an opportunity to visit friends and family in New Orleans and beat the snow for a while.  But when the time came, money was simply too tight.  Ah well.

Speaking of snow, my slideshow of St. John's Winter Wonderland should be working here.  (And mine of the Battlestar Galactica exhibit is here.)   There's a lot less snow in St. John's now.

Yesterday evening, on my way out of work, I noticed this scene from my office building.  The snow in the sun had largely melted, while the remaining snow matched the evening shadow of our building.  One of our office administrators got a big chuckle out of my interest in this, but being from the South, I'd just assumed that snow melted uniformly as it warmed up.  That's how it does melt when there is snow in the South.  But having spent several winters in Canada, I can tell you that snow in shady spots can linger for months.  (I find it interesting.)

I'll also tell you that we have a third cat, Mouse.

Mouse, on the left, relaxing with Ella.

Generally, I'd never intended to have a third cat.  But basically, this little street urchin ingratiated herself with Nicole (an easy task) while I was in Texas for a semester.  That and none of my Toronto friends would adopt her, especially John and Ann.  She's a sweet cat, though, and I'm glad she's no longer on the street; she's the luckiest stray cat in Ontario.  She's a grey tabby like Oleanna, but they're very different cats.  Oleanna was long and sleak; Mouse is short and stubby, a furry little bowling ball.  Oleanna was very affectionate; Mouse is still a bit skiddish with that.

That link for Oleanna is to a blog entry about the anniversary of my house fire.  Apropos of that, I can tell you that just last week we reached a settlement against the company whose product started the fire.  I'll blog more about that later.  For now, I welcome your guesses about the size of the settlement:
Free Website Poll

The soundtrack for this blog entry was my friend Alex's nice, mellow music available here.

My Trip Out West

A couple of months ago, I was thinking about the people we know living out west.  Lisa and Elana had just moved to Vancouver.  My friend Tony had been in Seattle for a few years, as had Phil and Morgan.  I thought it'd be nice to have a vacation out there and visit both cities and all those friends.  Then, a few days later, my boss told me about the American Meteorological Society conference in Seattle and that we ought to go, and that was that.

One thing for sure, I didn't want to fly directly to Seattle because I didn't want to expose myself to the TSA's abusive practices.  My plan was to fly to Vancouver on Friday, hang out with Lisa and Elana over the weekend, and then take the train down to Seattle.  Unfortunately on Thursday afternoon I got a call that Lisa's mother was about to pass away, and that they had to hurry back to Toronto.

I was able to reschedule my flight to Sunday morning--early Sunday morning.

The view from my first flight on the trip.

But that also meant I would do all the traveling--from St. John's to Vancouver then down to Seattle--in one day, 22 hours of straight travel.  Several things made the trip easier, though.  I made the trip across the continent in only two flights.  I had exit-row or bulkhead seats for all of my flights.  And on the plane, I was able to watch most of the NFC championship game.  It was a long day, but it could have been worse.

In Seattle, I only had one chance to get together with Phil.  Unfortunately on that day, he injured his eye pruning some grape vines.  (What a wino!)  So we weren't able to get together.

I wasn't able to get together with Morgan either; she was sick that week.  When I told her where I was staying, she said my hotel was right in her neighborhood.  I thought it might have been a few blocks to a few miles from her place.  No, when I stepped out of the hotel and looked to my right, hers was the first building I saw.  I walked by it several times a day, yet strangely we didn't get together.  Ah well.

I was able to get together with Tony, though.

Tony, after I said, "Smile."

On Tuesday, he took me to a bar with 100+ beers on tap.  Then Thursday night, we went to the Science Fiction Museum, where they had a Battlestar Galactica exhibit.  You can see my slide show of the exhibit here.

The Sci Fi Museum's exhibit of the Tree of Life from Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain, a film I highly recommend.

After the museum, we did some old-school bar hopping in a cool Seattle neighborhood whose name escapes me due to the old-school bar hopping.  We had a great visit.

In Seattle, a single of Bailey's in a regular tumbler.

(Let me now point out how impressed I was by the generosity of the Seattle bartenders.  Having grown accustomed to Canadian pours, I ordered a double whiskey; I got a full tumbler of booze.  Canucks, I love ya, but this is one area the Americans have over you.)

The view from the train.

As I've documented, the next morning did not go well, yet that had little to do with the night before.  Fortunately, Elana was able to pick me up at the train station.  Sadly, Lisa's mother did pass away that week, and she'd stayed in Toronto to attend to family business.  Elana and I had a great visit, though, and it did involve alcohol.  It also involved an early flight the next morning as well.

BLOG FLASHBACK:  Previously on UITGWN, I described how the circumstances precipitating my marrying Nicole had involved a trip to Vancouver and Seattle.  While in Vancouver, Nicole and I had brunched in Havana, a cool restaurant.  So when Elana and I were bar-hopping in her cool neighborhood, I was shocked to see and recognize the place, which I'd all but forgotten.  "I've eaten there," I said, which surprised her because she'd just learned about the place.  At the end of the evening, I dragged her there for dessert, which means she watched me eat creme brulee' as we each had one last white Russian.

Havana.

After the border incident on my trip with Nicole, I had returned to Seattle without her and went to a neighborhood bar to drink my sorrows away.  The next morning, I woke up late, still a little drunk, and had to speed through the Seattle rain to return my rental car and make my flight.  Last week as I walked to the Sci Fi Museum, I walked past the place, the 5 Point Bar.

5 Point, a friendly bar worth photographing but not worth crossing the street for.

It was odd to have this trip out west echoing that momentous trip from several years ago.  END FLASHBACK


So on this trip, I saw 40% of the friends I'd planned on.  That's less than I'd hoped, but I enjoyed all my time with them.  I noticed, too, how booze figured prominently in this blog entry.  That's telling me something . . . my friends like to drink too much.


Now I will leave you with a slideshow of the winter wonderland that's befallen St. John's.  Click here.

Seasons

This week my maternal grandmother, Mary Alice McCormick, passed away.   She was 86, had been in decline for a year, and went peacefully in her sleep with my mother and uncle beside her.

4 Generations:  Mary Alice, my mother Kathy, my sister Anna, and my niece Grace.

As I think about her life, I realize how I've seen her differently at different phases of my life.  As a child, she was, naturally, revered.  Now I realize how my tee-totaling, Southern-Baptist parents projected their values on to my perception of my grandparents; as a child, I assumed they were "good" Baptists, too.  Only later, did I realize that all of my grandparents, like most from south Louisiana, liked to drink; Maw Maw was also into ballroom dancing.  As a teenager, Maw Maw was a familial novelty.  And as an adult, I started to know her as an adult, and that's when the trouble started.

Maw Maw had a difficult personality.  She would frequently foist unwanted and unnecessary advice on you and do so in less than diplomatic terms.  She was often an argument waiting to happen, and as an adult, that turned me off.  Over time, though, I gained some insight into some of the psychological dynamics behind the behavior I didn't like.  And right now, I'm less inclined to think about some of the things that she said and more about some of the things she did.  Though she never had much (She married my good-for-nothing grandfather.), she was reliably generous and hospitable.  She loved books, and she was a good storyteller.  She will be missed.

The delicious pecan pie Nicole made for Thanksgiving.

It was Thanksgiving in the U.S.  In Canada, that occurs in early October.  Nevertheless, Nicole prepared a traditional tofurky feast, and afterward we watched the Saints almost give a game away to the Dallas Cowboys.  I was telling a co-worker that I prefer the U.S.'s Thanksgiving to Canada's.  There the end-of-year holidays begin with the light and fun Halloween.  A month later, the holidays escalate with Thanksgiving.  A month later, the holidays crescendo with Christmas, followed by a coda at New Year's.  Of course in New Orleans, there's Twelfth Night, too.  I thoroughly enjoyed the Thanksgiving here, and when I brought my co-workers half of Nicole's pecan pie, they enjoyed it, too.

Catch All

I've been really busy at work these last two weeks, though I'm glad to have a productive task to give myself to.  I've been expanding the capabilities of an existing computer program, which is a living example of every bad programming practice.  At one point, I needed a break and went to see "The Social Network" about the founding of facebook and got to watch the fictionalized Mark Zuckerberg programming away.  I identified with him completely.  Though of course by the end of the movie, he ends up a billionaire, and I am not one.   Though I do have more friends than he did at the end of the movie (none).  So I'd say I'm richer than he is.  (And yes, that means you can expect me to ask you for a loan soon.)  Nevertheless like Zuckerberg, I've neglected other aspects of my life (including this blog), and I've got to correct that.

I'd intended to offer a slide show of St. John's, but that's not going to happen tonight.  When asked what St. John's is like, I have to say "Ireland."  And I say that without having spent one second in Ireland.  But from what I've seen they're quite similar--green rolling hills over rocky terrain jutting out into the Atlantic.  St. John's is actually closer to Ireland  than it is to New Orleans.  But I guess the clincher is that the local accent is a real, full-on brogue.  (It is not the Canadian accent, eh.)  I'm constantly asked about my accent, and I think My accent?!  Have you listened to yourself?

Just the other evening, I was leaving a grocery store when a local guy ask me for money.  I gave him some change, and he asked if I had time for a joke.  Sure.  An old man . . . and after that he lost me.  His voice became just a low, ripple of rolly's, lolly's, holly's. So as I stood there, looking at him, I wondered how his face got so damn freckled this far north, and then I realized--out on the sea, fishing.  About that time, he reached the punchline.  I knew because he showed me his god-awful teeth in a big grin.  I gave him a convincing laugh and a nod and went on my way.

Things to do

Next week, Nicole and her parents (and our cats) begin their trek from Toronto to St. John's.  They leave Tuesday and will arrive Saturday morning.

 It goes without saying that Nicole has had a lot to do.  (Yet I say it anyway.)  I feel bad that I can't help her with it, and I feel glad that I don't have to.  But while I may have escaped the hassle of moving out, I cannot escape the hassle of moving in, starting a new job, moving to a new city, and immigrating to a new country.  The pile of tedious phone calls and documents seems endless.

I realize that few enjoy fumbling with the minutiae of modern life, but I honestly dread it.  Sure I get it done, but the whole time I'm, say, interacting with an automated phone system to, say, set up my internet, I've got a script rolling in the back of my head--Why in the hell am I wasting my brain power on this?  Such experiences have revealed something about myself--I like ideas, thinking about "the big picture," but I don't like dealing with all the details that go into that big picture.

Bart's photo of Friends of Lafitte Corridor, on an annual hike of the route.

Here's an example.  Years ago, I was walking with my friend Bart when we crossed a dead railroad bed, and I said that someone ought to make it a bike trail.  That happened one or two more times, before Bart started a group, Friends of Lafitte Corridor.  To make a very long story short, this group became the impetus for making this trail a reality.  That is, after a lot of work by Bart and other volunteers, New Orleans' City Hall signed a contract with a design firm; the bike trail/park is going to happen, marking a major improvement in New Orleans' infrastructure.  Bart has credited me with the idea, and I appreciate that.  But the truth is I didn't do, nor would have done, dick-all to make that happen.  I had a big idea but no patience for the details.

I can't wait for Nicole and our kittens to arrive.  As we begin our lives in this new city, I should invest myself more in the details of some of my ideas.

Al Gore's Speech Yesterday

In case you haven't heard, Al Gore gave an inspiring speech in which he challenged the nation to eliminate its reliance on fossil fuels in ten years, laying out the environmental, economic, and security benefits of doing so. It makes a lot of sense, and you can watch it here:



The main thing that prompted my posting this speech is he asked me to. I'm not being euphomistic here. I've been one of the more active members on the We campaign, and as such, I was invited to participate in a conference call with other people involved. I didn't talk to him, but it was fun.

About that Obama thermometer on the right . . .

If you've read this blog, you know I'm definitely for Obama. If you know me, you know I'd done as much volunteer activity as I could for Gore and Kerry's campaigns. Going into this campaign, my intention was simply to vote; I was burned out.

But then I got to listening to Obama, and then I got moved, and then I got inspired. And so now I'm doing everything I can, from Canada, to help his campaign. It turns out I can do a lot; he's got an extremely sophisticated web site. Using Vonage, I've been phone-banking. And now, I've got a fundraising page for the campaign.

I'm not going to solicit you one-on-one (via email, in person, or otherwise) for money. But I thought this blog was a good way to prompt the people I know to donate without pressuring them. Some time, I'll write more about what his campaign means to me.

Anniversary

Today's the first anniversary of our house fire. I think about where the time went and what's changed.

For me, the most painful thing about the house fire was the death of my cat, Oleanna. I'd had her for 14 years, my first pet I'd gotten on my own, and a companion through every significant phase of my adulthood. She was a smart, funny, loving cat. In a strange way, I feel some guilt about having moved on without her.

So where has the year gone? I realize now it can be divided into three phases. First, the insurance post-mortem from June to October. Second, our period in Oakville, Ontario from October to Februrary. Our period in Toronto from February to the present. Each phase was four months, strange.

What do I have to show for the year? Insurance money and much, though not all, of my belongings replaced. Life in a (slightly) different country.

The most significant accomplishment was writing my screenplay Alien Harvest, and by a fluke of timing, yesterday I mailed that script to Ridley Scott's assistant. I realize the odds aren't good, but at the risk of indulging in some writerly jargon, I feel like I owe it to the characters to give them a chance.

I've gotten some really positive feedback from the three people who've read the script--Nicole, Bart, and my friend here John O'Neill. None of them (not even Nicole) dole out compliments insincerely, which I appreciate. Two of them said one of the best things a writer can hope to hear--Once I started reading, I couldn't put it down. (I've gotten some very helpful suggestions, too.) So I'm hoping that Ridley Scott's assistant is curious enough to pick it up and just read the first few pages.

Also, yesterday, my attorney filed suit against the company whose product started the fire. We've all heard of the elderly woman made a millionaire because she spilled McDonald's coffee. So what sum do you think you could pursue from a company whose product burned your house down, killed your cats, and put your life in a tailspin? Well, not much, no where close to what that woman got. Part of that has to due with the conservative judges appointed in New Orleans, yet another way the Bush administration is fucking me over.

I don't want to end on that negative note. So I'll say that I feel like my life is moving in a positive direction. I don't know the external destination, but inside the trip feels OK with the possibility of improving.

Sydney Pollack

Yesterday, Sydney Pollack died, and for some reason I feel compelled to write about him. I didn't know him, though he is on my list of celebrities I've encountered. My sister's brother-in-law worked as his assistant for The Interpreter, and it sounds like Sydney treated him well.

There were a lot of things about Sydney Pollack I liked. I'd seen him interviewed on "Inside the Actors' Studio," and I liked his thoughts about film-making, finding the "spine" of the story. Recently, he made an ad that plays in movie theaters right before the feature starts, admonishing a character not to talk on the phone during the film. I like that. As much as anything, his persona seemed to be that of a bright, decent person.

Most of all, though, I liked his films. The two that readily come to mind are Out of Africa and Tootsie. But after checking IMDB, I learned he'd directed a number of films I'd admired: The Electric Horseman, Three Days of the Condor, and Absence of Malice. Until The Big Lebowski usurped it, Tootsie had been my favorite comedy. So last night, we watched it. Frankly, I can't think of a better way to remember an artist.

Here's how I encountered Sydney Pollack. During the pentultimate New Orleans Film Festival, Nicole and I had gone to see Al Franken: God Spoke at Canal Place. We were lined up outside, and seating for the film was running late, really late, 40-minutes late. I'd asked at the box office what was going on, and they said the director was talking about the film in there. Turns out, it was Sydney, talking about his Sketches of Frank Gehry. As he was leaving, he walked right past us. Usually when I see celebrities, I leave them alone, and that's what I did in this case. What I would never do is try to befriend them in some way. If I genuinely liked their work, I may tell them--that's it. So as I watched him walk by me, I thought about going up to him and saying,"Tootsie was a great film." But I thought what he really wanted was to be left alone, so I did. But now, I don't know, I wish I'd told him I appreciated his work.

Integral Theory

Recently, I read this interview of Ken Wilber and found it fascinating. If you have a philosophical inclination, I highly recommend considering it.

Wilber is the founder of integral theory, which is his attempt to make sense of our disparate bodies of knowledge. With integral theory, he offers a model about how many fields, from physics to biology to psychology and spirituality, relate and have meaning for our lives. This appeals to me. So I read a primer on his theory The Integral Vision. Now I'm reading Sex, Ecology, Spirituality: the Spirit of Evolution, which is an exhaustive examination of this subject. Maybe you'd like this, too.

Nika Art Glass

Nicole and I have just updated her web site, NikaArtGlass.com. Check it out.

Resumption

Yesterday, Nicole began blowing glass. She's started a four-month residency at the Living Arts Centre. I'm glad she's back into it, and she is, too. So, yesterday, I took the train out to the studio to meet her at the end of her shift. From there, we went to pick-up her parents who were returning from Spain after being away for six months. They were happy to see us, and it was nice to see them, too. They've been very helpful to us. Today, I also pick up my computer which has been in the shop for a week. We've been sharing Nicole's tired, old mac, and that's been rough sledding.

Thoughts on public transit

As I whined earlier, public transit is really expensive here, and that's just within the city. If you have to take the commuter train to the suburbs, that can be $15 per round trip. How in the hell is anyone supposed to afford that? Though I'd prefer to use public transit, this cost actually creates an incentive to drive if I know I'm going somewhere I can park for free.

I always found it odd that public transit is something one has to pay for. I think public transit should be public the way the public libarary is--that is, free. As curbing greenhouse gases becomes a greater and greater concern, this approach seems more and more appropriate. Cities could pay for the transit by gathering money from the drivers though gas taxes, fees, parking fines, parking meters, etc.

One of the things about charging for the public transit is that doing so put an enormous burden on the transit agencies. Public transit exists to move people around. But much of their equipment and personnel are there to gather fares. If transit were free, you wouldn't have: turnstiles, token machines, drop boxes on buses, people in booths sitting top of the money. Most of the equipment and people that public transit users interact with are involved in gathering fares, not transporting people. One thing is certain; a lot of the fares gathered goes to the continued gathering of fares. I would love to know what the typical proportion is; it must be significant.

Also, the gathering of fares makes the transit system inefficient as well. On a busy bus route, each stop is slowed because every new passenger has to line up and pay the fare. If there were no fares, the bus would stop, both doors would open, people would get out, then people would get on. Much faster.

These are the things I think about.

Well, today, I'm getting a bike, so I'm looking forward to avoid transit fares the old-fashioned way.

Ramblings about New Orleans

Now that I'm in Toronto, I'm reminded of another experience I had when I left New Orleans for another city, Phoenix. As I've written, I do miss New Orleans; I know what that means. But I've been thinking what specifically I miss.

I've read that New Orleans is one of America's three legendary cities; such legend and all the feelings that surround it are a big part of what's missing in my experience in other cities. It gave me the sense that I was part of something much larger and deeper. By way of contrast, when I look at Toronto or Phoenix, I had the strong feeling that everyone was there simply to be a consumer, a pretty empty prescription for life. (Though, I've just begun to learn about Toronto.) Perhaps coincidentally, Phoenix and Toronto have god-awful traffic, a system that puts one in an adversarial relationship with everyone around them, not great for a sense of community. Such living calls to mind the words of Tyler Durden: "Advertisement has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate, so we can buy shit we don't need."

One of the aspects of life in New Orleans gets touched upon every time we call it "the Big Easy." What does that mean exactly? For me, it means that a considerable part of the city's culture lives in rejection to the terms of global capitalism. In New Orleans, there's the sense that there's more to life than being a cog in a coporate wheel, making as much money as you can for someone else. So many people have a do-it-yourself spirit and a sense of community, investing their lives in causes and projects, rather than just buy and spend. Though, to the outside world, that's a liability. After Katrina, we frequently heard how the city was a poor one. That referred to many of its citizens but also to the corporate wealth within the city. In many ways, New Orleans could be ahead of the times, a model for a post-corporate world if we ever get there (and we need to).

If there's a danger in having a legend it's that it could can keep you looking back and not forward. I think that happened before the storm. Likewise, the city government is an absymal failure. New Orleans may not be the wealthiest city, but nothing excuses the gross incompetence of its administration. Since the storm, people have gotten much more politically active. I hope that start to bring some accountability to the city's government.

What's Going On?

Yesterday, after I posted about BSG, I looked over my recent postings and thouht it was kind of pathetic. All of my recent posts have largely been about the media, with embedded clips. There hasn't been a lot of writing about what's going on with me. THAT ALL CHANGES TODAY!

So what's been going on? Not much.

OK, that's not good writing. Honestly, I find myself really bored, which might explain why I consume so much media and post about it. Since I arrived in Canada, I'd looked forward to exploring Toronto. But the weather really inhibitied that. Sunday I found out this winter we were 8 inches (i.e., not much at all) from breaking the record for all-time snow fall. With that kind of weather, you really don't even feel like leaving the house, so I did so as little as possible. Last week, it rained continuously for two days--high's in the low 40's, continuous rain; I'd just as soon take the 8 inches of snow. This week looks like the first to offer some decent weather--still cold, but at least sunny.

Something else has restricted my exploration of the city--the cost of getting around. I do live in the city, but in a neighborhood a bit more family oriented than I'd like. I'd compare it to the Carrollton area near S. Claiborne. Public transit is good and readily available, but it's pretty darn expensive--$2.75, $2.25 if you buy tokens in advance. Compare that to $2 in New York (which is a vastly better system), and $1.25 in New Orleans and that cost starts to add up. All of the city is set up so there's practically no where you can park without paying about $4 for it. The parking meters here are expensive, run until 9 pm, and are rigorously enforced. Having to shell out $4-5 every time you go somewhere gets old. This week, I've got to get a bike.

I have found some gems, though. Actually, Nicole found them. The Cameron House is a great neighborhood bar (another neighborhood) not falling into one of the two types of bars commonly found in Toronto, a pub or some swank, mod club. It's got a creative flare and interesting history. Essentially, it feels like a bar in New Orleans. Sunday night I was there at the bar, waiting for the band, Kevin Quain and the Mad Bastards, to start. I overheard the bartender talking to someone who'd just arrived. The guy said how much he liked the bar, and the bartender said, "Yeah, it's got this kind of New Orleans feel to it." I said, "I'm from New Orleans, and I think you're right, which is why I like it." Then, as always happens, the guy had a lot of questions about what's going on in New Orleans.

The band that night is a good instance of local music. I first heard them when Nicole and I took Megan's neighbor, Matt Ennis, there. The show was really great. Good music, great song writing, and a vibe I would compare to Tom Waits, though not at all derivative. Here's a video, though it doesn't do the grouop justice:



Otherwise, I'm busier than one might think about someone who doesn't have a job. Replacing practically everything you had takes time, and I hate to shop. And then there's a seemingly unending pile of bureaucratic hurdles to jump over. The latest, of course, were my taxes, which were extremely complicated, especially for someone who doesn't have a job. A bit of advice to those who own a double. If you ever imagine selling it two years in advance, you should set up residency in the other side of the double. When you report the sale of the property, any income made on that property won't be considered income from a business.

Why I live in Canada

This American Life's most recent episode, "The Audacity of Government," gives a good rundown of some of the reasons why I wanted to live in Canada. One of the acts describe a situation that could be directly applicable to Nicole and me. I post about it because I think everyone needs to know what their government is up to and how much their government has changed under this administration. It also illustrates why I hold so much animus for this administration.

Back U.I.T.G.W.N.

Well, I'm on my way; I write this on the plane.

This trip was a good one. I had a lot of nice visits, and I got a lot accomplished. One of the more noteworthy accomplishments was picking up the Firebird, which I drove hither and yon across the city and southeast Louisiana. Last night, as I put it in my parent's garage and covered it, it was difficult not to feel sad, like I was putting aside something beautiful that demands admiration. That's how I feel about New Orleans, too.

I was glad to see noticeable progress in the city, nothing dramatic just a few more restored buildings and a few less derelict ones. It's encouraging.

Thanks to all those who hosted me: Mom & Dad, Angelle, Megan & Andy, Bruce, and Matt. In addition to them, it was great to see: Chris & Mary, Veronica, Alex, Anna Maria, Leslie, Phil, Paulie, Bob & Julie, Matt & Lauren, and Bart, Christy and wee-little Persephone.

Just as I love visiting people, I love eating some good food, so (much to Nicole's envy) here are some of the placess I frequented: La Boulangerie, Surrey's, Rue de la Course, 13, Mimi's, the Saint, Vaughn's, d.b.a., Elizabeth's, Trey Yuen, Pho Tau Bay, Angelo Bracato's, Juan's Flying Burrito, Blue Frog Chocolates. Music wise, I got to see my beloved New Orleans Bingo Show!, the Hot Club of New Orleans and Broken Smokes. I'd intended to see more, but I was having a hard time sleeping and thus a hard time staying out late.

Of course, leaving means always wishing you had more time to visit more people and more places. Though leaving can be a downer, I'm looking forward to getting home, to my cold, snow-covered home. I can't wait to see my loving Nicole and sweet angels, Ella and Eartha. All that lies between me and them is Canadian Customs.

Update: I made it through customs.

Preparing taxes

I've learned that Turbo Tax offers its services for free in three cases, the most likely being you have an adjusted gross income under $30,000. Here's the link. I did qualify and found it helpful, since my taxes were pretty complicated this year. Please pass this along to anyone who could use it.

By the way, I'm not up in the great white north right now. I'm down in Louisiana, doing things like my taxes. When I'm not caught in that drudgery, I'm enjoying visits with people.

I'm coming home

I'll be in Louisiana from March 1st through the 11th. I hope we'll be able to make some time to get together.