This first letter from RPP in NO:
"I love traveling to places I don’t know anyone.
Somehow I become the listener as opposed to my regular
role, the talker. Oh boy did I hear stories. The tall,
short, black, white, fat, skinny, old, and young were
all out tonight. Those that look jazz, blues, soul,
rock, punk, and reggae were all out tonight. White
boys with long hair pulled back in pony’s, dressed in
stone wash jeans and t-shirts, and black men in
overalls using canes for assistance were all out
tonight. The most eclectic mix of people under one
roof I have ever seen (and I have been under a lot of
roofs) were all out tonight. I was offered a ride
home, a drink, drugs, friendship for life, and a night
out on the town. I said yes to all of the above. I was
told where the best burrito is despite being from
Cali. The bartender hugged me, my ride home hugged me,
and the guy sitting next to me hugged me. I became
friendly with Janessa and Hot Boy. Hot Boy is her
friend, landlord, and lawyer. Janessa says he is a get
out of jail free card if I ever get in trouble. His
dogs have permission to smell her crotch (it’s part of
the lease). The other day they sniffed her booty and
she remarked that it is not on the lease and she is
withholding 100 dollars this month. I will get a bike
tomorrow head to orientation and work, and most likely
get a hug. I love New Orleans. The people here got
soul."
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1 comment:
The strangest city you'll ever find under the sun, still alive and kicking. NOLA is too much of a niche for too many people to die quietly. Sure as hell stank after the hurricane though. You could smell the city from 5000 feet up in the air for weeks after Katrina.
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