Staying in on Night Out

National Night Out Against Crime. Came out on the porch today and saw that little orange flyer, heard about it in the news or something. They want us to have fun but just a little bit, not so much that it turns into a block party. I tried to get pictures of their logo, but could not grab them from the website THAT is even copyrighted. So I had to settle for this line of "wonderful" people, can any of you see which one is Willy Wonka? But don't blame the mayor, oh no, not for that. Blame the group that made the night out for not thinking.

I hate to do nothing but rat and rave. And if I am wrong someone please comment on this. But what is the point, the freaking bleeding point, about having a night out against crime if its going to be on a Tuesday. Sure I do not work, at least right now, but curious how they have the NATIONAL holiday against CRIME no less on a Tuesday.

Do they want to foster neighborly behavior? Then put it on a Friday or Saturday, where people have the next day OFF. Thus there might be a small chance that night against crime may turn into MORNING against crime too!

No not me. I ignored all my neighbors with their mosquito repellent torches and cops shaking hands, barbecues. Besides I think they even put a TIME LIMIT on it. Time limit, on porch sitting, amazing. Not this night, this night the porch, dark and desolate, invited no one to its bosom of laziness.

The Wild (banned from the) West

As the sheriff, or even as a normal citizen, would you walk up to these guys and tell them they could not smoke in a saloon? HELL NO! It is a miracle that at the time they would even ask them for their guns before rolling in to town.

Founded by rugged people who smoked, drank, sweated, farmed, harvested, prayed and preyed on others; the Southwest in now only wild when you look at the spectacular views of nature. Western Frontiers now only dwell in the eye of the beholder. The people, descendants of explorers and conquerors, warriors and defenders, have become softer than a flour burrito.

Avoiding a sudden monsoon, We drank at this bar (left) the Tin Star Saloon, a collection of odd misfits and strangely bland patrons drinking martinis and local beers. A woman that is leaving Santa Fe because of the horrible education there (ah reminders of New Orleans!)

Drank to my hearts content, which was a bit earlier because of the lack of oxygen at 7G's above sea level, and noticed no one with style, no one with gusto, no one SMOKING! The bars smelled like the armpits of cherubs, no hasy atmosphere. The conversation mostly of tourists and local college puppies.

Noted one Indian among the domesticated ivory cattle, which the same people that banned smoking tell me I should call Native-American. No dirt, no chaps, no cursing and throwing through windows, not even an outburst. You can forget America's frontier spirit, it has been weeded out by bureaucratic law. You can't be original without encroaching on someone else's space. And the more civilized we become the more everywhere feels like somone else's space.

Ah the West, now only Wild on film, in comic books, and in old photographs on City Hall's walls. Yet somehow those City Hallers are slowly killing those images with their damn laws, their ordinances, their curfews and parking meters.

Deadwood is now a suburban cookie cutter without natural grass or ashtrays. Lord knows what the fine is for spitting, even if you can find a spitoon and hit the target.

Returned- Full Report Pending

Washed up here on the tiny porch overlooking the city. The lights are dim and nothing is different in this town since I left. Nothing changes. Given, this so wonderful after visiting so many places that have changed so much in the years. A full report coming soon. Coming from Santa Fe, then Denver, then Houston, then the Crescent; I believe I deserve a bit of a rest. Sitting on the porch here waiting for my luggage to arrive.

The minute we get into New Orleans, its the third world, evidence of that even in the first bathroom trip I made when I arrived home. Let us just say that New Mexico is not that new at all.

New Age Capitalist

In Sedona, a place to be a wonderful sanctum. One of the presumed chakras of the earth. And I say if we were to leave wondrous Gaia alone here it would be awesome. But alas the strip malls, albeit adobe new age brown strip malls, are just intruding. Given not the capitalist parasites, flipping cards and advertising in your face, of Vegas, but still there. Waiting for the wallet.

First off, no cars. Seal off the community and do not allow a single internal combustible engine without a license in the area. And second, and I am a victim of this. Let people have a few more minutes on the internet cafes than just 10 minutes!

UPDATE: My impression is that once this town awed its visitors with natural beauty. The rocks shine in a myriad of colors that makes you feel like you are on Mars- particularly at sunrise and sunset.



The porch potential of this place is unbelievable, grabbing a bottle of wine and something to push it down with (though you may find it hard to find a good cheese or chorizo in this town on account of all the new agers being vegetarians, tofu just doesn't do it with wine) and watch the sun descend into its nest of craters.

The problems are when you descend into town, and you speak to so many people that say "And you should have seen it 10 or 20 years ago, before all these people came. Though I did see that bars and other places of leisure that, here in New Orleans we take for granted.

Vegasing

Trying to get back into blogging and what a more horrific place to restart it than in the wonderful world of Las Vegas.

The setting? No longer that Busted Flush santuary somewhere between Margaritaville and the Mississippi. Not drinking and writingto you from a cabana like sanctum. Oh no, no New Orleans here (except the spew they try to sell at you at Harrah's here. No, I am writing an internet television deep in the bowels of the Flamingo Hotel, currently owned by Caesar's Palace across the Street. Locked away escapingthe desert heat (yes sorry to say this is still considered a desert) in a hotel room.

But am I having fun?

I am not sure exactly who has fun here but there seems to be two types that prefer this contrived oasis of capitalist pleasure.

One is what Travis McGee would call,the sun bunnies. Beautiful people buying beautiful things without any beautiful taste. Those that are Aztecs at heart and allow their bodies to be eventually prematurely aged, like cannibalist beef jerky YUM. I laugh at the lovely ladies, the 20 or even late 20 something crowd that think they can drink forever and not gain an ounce as long as you mix the liquor with Red Bull. Eventually the slush will begin to collectlike goo around the thighs and stomach. Nothing more attractive in a thong.

The other side are those people that have decided to enjoy life after years of struggle, to save nothing for a rainy day (and you know its going to downpour on social security realsoon, thanks to the Reps I can see the clouds forming even on this porch), and refuse to leave one unearned red scent to the kids or their suburban spawn. These I call the leather necks, the old ones that have a pirate mentality and spend just as fast as they win. I may laugh at them, sitting their with another pention checked forwarded to mighty Casino Caesar, but they are always the ones in the win photos on the slots.

So am I having fun, sure, if this is civilization than I am Nero.

Oh and could you hand me that fiddle?

Did not realize

I did not realize how much time has slipped away since I updated this blog. Things are hectic, crazy. The tour I had as a school teacher is over, apparently the numbers here in New Orleans have died, and other execs need raises and jobs more than I do. This is on a day that we put a bid on another house (picture pending).

Feels like an opportunity and perhaps all those colorful characters that made my porch like a novel will return with a vengeance. Lazy days with drinks and afternoon stories. Waiting for that parade of storms that comes but once a year, tossing throws of winds and tin roofs about the city.

Speaking of which, we do fear the next season. It has been a lofty mild and breezy winter. Perhaps five coat days total. That just is not enough to warm the gulf at all, it looks bad for us. With another dragon chain of Lilith tempests coming through.

Wish us luck, we may need it. Those structures still standing may not survive.

Returned and Why I'm not Rich.

Did I mention I am back, back on this porch on a midsummer's January. Turns out that we are getting days and days of heat, and the trouble is that the gulf is not managing to cool off. That could mean a rather difficult and evacuating summer.

New Orleans is returning, despite what Nagin and LaGasse say about it. Cannot understand why they would put their foot in their mouths and say such idiotic things. 'Chocolate City' indeed! What was the man thinking! Plans are going up, stores are opening. You no longer go to the restaurant and eat off of paper plates. But details can still be tiring.

Sitting on the porch in these oddly hot days, the dominoes shift and shuffle about. The rum is still the same and stories are as boring as ever. Looking about the palisade of the porch remains the same shadowed fun. Though we do not get as smashed as we once did. Good thing is that there are no one on the streets and not many have jobs, so the portal is always full.

I have always believed that the reason why I am not rich is that I would throw so many parties in house, porch, balcony, and yard that I would severely alter the economic and social structure of wherever I am. Mayor and officials, cops and bankers would call their offices in sick. I guess the gods just do not want it at all. For I and my pitiful entourage would dissolve all those vital reality strings that took them so long to implement.