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December 20, 2007
Time has come
I've been doing lots of late-night writing these days, cranking out my third short story and up to three chapters in a potential novel, but my muse refuses to come out at home. Not sure if she hates kids or pets or unfolded laundry; regardless, I must coax her out with beverages, usually triple espressos.
I like to walk from the house up to Oak Street with my laptop. Did the usual midnight shuffle tonight when Rue shut down, down to Zotz which keeps later hours...alas, Zotz is keeping pussy advent hours, so I decided to take a chance on Carrollton Station. It was loud, so I doubled back down Dublin thinking to see what the Maple Leaf was like.
Halfway between Willow and Plum, I see a young man peek at me around the fence on the corner. A few seconds later he peeks around the corner again. As I get closer he disappears. As I arrive at Plum and think about crossing, I see him standing a half a block down. He sees me and starts toward me at double time. Me a big fucking target, obviously carrying a computer, likely a wallet, and it's that time of night when the hunting is good looking for all the drunk college students at the edge of the herd. I already knew that the closest populated area was back on Willow, so I turned around and double-timed it back. A look over my shoulder and the guy is now slowly hovering around the opposite corner.
Sometimes I hate this fucking city. I hate always looking over my shoulder like that. I hate having to mistrust people by default at certain times of night or certain situations. I hate that a Lusher middle school kid was robbed at gunpoint at Freret & Lowerline at 7:30 in the fucking morning and the school downplayed the incident, and now I worry when my kids are on their way home from school, and I don't like them out after dark. And we live in a safe neighborhood.
So Carrollton Station it is, because the crocs are out on Plum tonight. And I gotta tell you, if there's no live band playing and you don't mind loud classic rock, this is a great place to isolate. Endless supply of O'Doul's, and even wifi. And even though you have to put up with the odd Boston or Stevie Nicks swill, right now I am wallowing joyfully in the full eleven minute version of the motherfucking Chambers Brothers.
Now the time has come
There's no place to run
I might get burned up by the sun
But I had my fun
I've been loved and put aside
I've been crushed by the tumbling tide
And my soul has been psychedelicized
P.S. That was the abridged Sullivan Show version. Here's the acid-drenched original LP version:
Posted by ray at December 20, 2007 12:54 AM | Permalink
Categories: [music | new orleans ]
Comments
I used to have that LP. I wore it out. I should get a cd of it. Thanks for reminding me. I need reminding of a lot of things. What was I just typing? Oh yeah, I forgot.
Posted by: Marco at December 20, 2007 12:22 PM
If I had a concealed carry permit, there would be bodies stacked five-deep all the way from here to the CBD.
It's best that my deep-seated murderous rage remain deep-seated, I think.
Posted by: Ray at December 20, 2007 4:21 PM
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