It's a Small World

It occurs to me that I really don't write much about my move to New Orleans. I will have been here for a year on the June 10th. New Orleans is a brand new, fascinating, and magical world for me. I can remember when I was 10, and went to Disney World, it was awe-inspiring- because 10 year old me truly believed that every moment of my life. My insame love of Tinker Bell and Pooh, the years of watching The Wonderful World of Disney, seeing every Disney movie ever created, and knowing the words to all the saongs, had led me to that moment. The best moment in my 10 year old life... To stand there in my mouse ears, staring at Sleeping Beauty's castle ( NOT CINDERELLA'S!!! ) was euphoric. That is what living in New Orleans is for me - each and every day. There's always that little bit of magic in the air.

So today I am going to tell you a little story about my landlord. Dr. H. He is a true southern gentlemen who still owns a seersucker suit. He is everything that is good and wonderful about a southern gentlemen - he has a wicked wit and a sharp tongue, but is also one of the kindest individuals I've ever met. I consider myself to be lucky to be his tenant. He cares a great deal about me, enough to occasionally set me aside some dinner to take upstairs to my attic apartment, and he loves my dog. As this year has passed, we've developed a good relationship - I do my best to go to the grocery store for him every two weeks or so, I mail things for him at the post office, and if he wants to see a movie he asks me to rent it on Netflix.

Last week he asked me to rent Pretty Baby for him.

GASP!

He went on to tell me that some friends of his were in it, but I was still back on the GASP!

I can remember when PRETTY BABY came out, and the whole hoo ha deal about Brooke Shields being 12 and being in it. I was younger then Brooke then, and it caused a great deal of controversy in my house, my European mother thought it was no big deal. My father on the other hand thought it was a VERY BIG deal. ( I am convinced that Phantasm has to be the scariest movie ever because my father made such a big deal about me NOT seeing it because it was too scary for me. To this day I won't watch it, I think, "Oh no .. too too scary for me." I also don't drink coffee because my Mom once told me I was too young for it. So parents never doubt your influence.)

So my landlord had friends in this horribly offensive movie! AND HE THOUGHT I SHOULD WATCH IT TOO!!!

So I did.

When it was over, I couldn't figure out what the big deal was about. I also wondered why I thought Peter Fonda was in the movie -- perhaps because he was in another shitty Brooke Shields movie. I love her but she made some steaming piles of crap back in the day.

The best part was seeing Dr H. the next day, sitting on the porch while the sun was going down, the musicians beginning to play and having him tell me about Storyville and the photographer Ernest Bellocq who took photos of the women that worked in the red-light district of New Orleans. It might have had a different twist, but it was still magic - like a Disney fairytale.

The Truman Show

Last night I dreamed that old men were "self recreating" while I read from the collective works of Tennessee Williams on the phone.

I think that I am still recovering from the Festival, because really - that's just creepy.

So we are in post-festival mode, which is still rather hectic. I have about $12,000.00 in credit card purchases to run - I finished about $6,000.00 WOOT! I also spoke to IN TOUCH magazine. Apparently the scoop is Angelina attended the Fest, and they wanted confirmation. My response was "Wow. I don't know about that, I think someone would have screamed or somethin'. " I said it with my best southern accent too. I figure they think we're a bunch of slack-jawed rubes here in New Orleans, so why ruin it for them Then I passed the call on to K-town. Apparently the reporter knew every step Angelina made that day. Again with the creepy.

I did manage to swing by Garden District Book Shop and pick up Answered Prayers by Truman Capote. I have a confession to make. You see I like Tennessee Williams, I LOVE Truman Capote. Every word he wrote was perfect and beautiful. I can't think of any other way to say it. A lot of my friends don't get why I love him so much, yeah he wrote like an angel, but he was a mean little bastard - but I don't see him that way. I once heard someone say that they felt that Truman was a lot like Marilyn Monroe, a lonely little blond with a little voice, starving for love that got caught in a world that was more cutthroat then they imagined. That rings true to me. Ultimately they both overdosed on love substitutes, drugs, alcohol and celebrity... all because they felt empty. So Truman has always held a little bit of my heart. I always felt that he was stuck in a world that was cruel to him. Anyway, enough about my love of Tru - I got the book because I have always been afraid to read it. What if it sucks? What if it's not beautiful? What if it's just mean? So tonight I will see, wish me luck. I want to enjoy this read - unfinished or not. I am sure one night when I am sloppy drunk I will wax poetic on Truman, in depth, and it shall be wince-worthy, just a warning!

Oh, and as one more post Festival wrap up, one of the best things was meeting Amy - so you know, I did try your "song and writing" thing ... Sadly, the only song going through my head lately has been Lollipop by Mika - YIKES! Catchy tune -- have no idea of what it means - a sure sign that I'm aging, and not doing it well.

I want candy

Do you know how frightening it is when you sit down to play a little harmless game on the M&M website -- and then discover that, yeah... you do look like an M&M?

Right down to the hot pink flip-flops!

Yikes.

Someone starts her diet tomorrow!