Thoughts from the Road, Volume 3
Vieux Carre, New Orleans
Sitting here in our room at Hotel Monteleone, a favorite place for great literary figures to stay when they’re in town. This is my first time staying here, but I have drank at the Carousel Bar before, when I was in town for Tales of the Cocktail (which, ironically, is going on now). It was here where I met and talked with Jimmy Russel, former master distiller of Wild Turkey. After I dropped the names of mutual acquaintances back in Louisville, he told me a story about hanging out with race car driver Jeff Gordon at the Kentucky Speedway. Helluva nice guy.
On the way from Montgomery, we stopped at Hank Williams’ childhood home in Georgiana, Alabama and at the grave of Gram Parsons in Metairie. We might stop by Alex Chilton’s old apartment in Treme on the way out, I don’t know. The only other musical place of interest for me here is the Inn at St. Peter where Johnny Thunders died. We walked by it earlier, but I didn’t stop. Maybe on the way back from dinner at Muriel’s. On one hand, this town has a reputation for a macabre vibe, but on the other hand, the heat and humidity of the city in July is depressing enough.
I feel a bit like Dewey Cox when he told his manager he wanted to bring his music back to the men in prison, but he didn’t want to live with them. I like to observe the world, but I’m uncomfortable living in it most of the time. I understand why people do what they do, I even struggle with many of the same challenges other people do, but I prefer solitude to crowds. And very small groups of trustworthy friends are even better than solitude sometimes, but I always go back to solitude to regroup. I just got off the phone with my friend Dan, who moved to Arizona some time back. I miss him and his fellowship. Talking on the phone isn’t the same, but he’s not easily replaceable either. Not that he can be replaced, but his presence in my life has left a void that needs to be filled and I will fill it, just as he will fill the void left by me and other friends in Colorado with new people in Arizona.
The South is a friendly place. People are much nicer than anywhere else I’ve ever been. But it can be a lonely place too. I don’t know if I love it because of that, or I am the way I am because it is the way it is. Chicken or the egg. Either way, I feel at home here. Much like the mythology around Samhain in pagan traditions, the barrier between the past and the present, the living and the dead, the holy and the unholy, it’s a lot thinner here. You feel more of both sides at the same time. It’s overwhelming and inspiring. All the things happening simultaneously in the world right now are freaking out a lot of people, but for the Southerner, it’s business as usual.
As much as I like this town, and this part of town in particular, there’s not much to do if you don’t party. You walk around, take it all in, sweat your ass off, shower, then repeat. I do love the food too. I am ready for Memphis tomorrow. The ducks at the Peabody. Barbecue on Beale Street. Graceland. The Rock and Soul Museum. Sun and Stax, and maybe another drive by Ardent.
Til next time.