Posting from 30,000 feet in the air. The future is now. The revolution will be Instagrammed.
Another beautiful visit to a city I must have lived in in a former life … I love it so much I miss it while I’m there. I get sentimental for moments the moment they pass.
In some ways this was my least New Orleans-y visit yet, and in more ways my most. No jambalaya, nary a po’boy, neither crawfish nor oyster (raw). But live music almost every night, a feeling of comfort and home-away-from-homecoming, communing with nature (stray cats and tree frogs), and absolute certainty that I will be back sooner than later.
I got a lot of editing done. Not a lot of writing, but I’m not there yet for draft three of Unnamed Book. I did a lot of research and I spent time with friends I’ve known for decades and others I’ve just met. And the beauty of this (that) town is the serendipitous encounters with strangers I’ll never see again, like the gal in the restroom at (what was the name of last night’s Bywater bar?) who had just lost her dad and who needed a hug, or the server at Muriel’s who’s about to move back to the town where I went to college.
In the overhead bin is my notebook, which contains words and quotes and fleeting impressions about this past week. I will curate and share.
And now back to my other urban love, New York, New York, the city so nice they blah blah blah.
So, the book. Needs a title. Suggestions welcome.
Putting my seat back in the upright position. À bientôt, mes cheris.