Here’s one more. Last fall my friend Nate joked, “You know that time of year when you can suddenly see your neighbors again?” I’ll miss being able to watch the horses come summer.

Here’s one more. Last fall my friend Nate joked, “You know that time of year when you can suddenly see your neighbors again?” I’ll miss being able to watch the horses come summer.

This is what early spring looks like where I live.

In this brutal, pulverizing cold, all I want is be back on Magazine Street getting lunch at Surrey’s. Bloody Marys at Le Bon Temps Roule next door while we wait; then after we’re seated, orange juice with a shot of ginger and shrimp and grits with bacon.

The other night as I was drifting off I half-dreamed, half-imagined I was making my regular two-block trek to Breaux Mart for groceries. I remember it all so vividly: the rundown, water-stained carpeted stairs down to the street; the dreadlocked guys across the road who’d yell, Hey mama how you doin’? Aw right, aw right; the magnolias opening on the trees; the bright, bright sun.

It’s strange to wake up in this completely different life. 

Sometimes I make this face when I sing. Apparently.

Sometimes I make this face when I sing. Apparently.

My man fell out of 1976.

My man fell out of 1976.

Marshall as Ernest Hemingway.

Marshall as Ernest Hemingway.

Last night.

Blah blah blah, pictures of my friends, blah blah blah, look at me I have a social life and a camera.

Last night Mike took me to Movie Night at his friend Joey’s house, which is decked out from floor to ceiling in all sorts of memorabilia and antiques. We watched Blue Velvet, and I get why David Lynch is “challenging” and “thought-provoking,” but I think I’m just not into it? I guess I’m a philistine. Anyway, the house was incredible. And I had to snap a picture of the 1930’s vibrator.

More Mardi Gras pictures, this time mainly of my pals.