Archive | February, 2015

Guilty Pleasure

28 Feb

Yo I ain’t even gonna front, I kinda like this video.

Even Though I Hit It I Don’t Miss You

28 Feb

Real Spit.

Dirty Window Pane Poetry - An Experiment

Disclaimer* All Things I write are subject to artistic creation.
I’ve never gutted anyone nor has anyone gutted me.

I don’t feel all that much on this, as you gut me of intestines.
Sprawled out on your couch I could use a real inspiration.

Are you one of those new waves?
You know the type that don’t crash at all;
They just keep on going towards nothings
Fizzle out afraid to hit the shore!

It’s a tragedy; The only people diving in are jokers.
All the intelligent fools are jaded
They didn’t like how the feelings made them hurt
So they brush them off and learn to love the cold.
There’s a fire in here and they hover by the stove.

I’ve always been so foolish,
Rash decisions to a dead head
Say baby, damn it’s cold outside!
Let that freeze chill into the bark on the trees,
You’re skin can take hits…

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Bayou

28 Feb

A violent interruption of my sleep
where the cold air and the red soil turn into
the thickness of the bayou.

A cozy community of commuters
descend into weirdness together
Flickers of light onto our dark faces,
waking up to the smell of fried chicken
and the sun kissing my forehead.

We have arrived.

~Edward Austin Robertson

Book Review

23 Feb

My 2011 collection of poems, “Chasing Kerouac with My Credit Card” got a nice little write up on the site Sturnella Neglected; a blog, kept up by Patrick Westerhaus, a Kansas writer and musician. He’s a pretty funny guy, and he has some rather interesting musings.

Check it out yo!

Taking it Sleazy in the Big Easy

18 Feb

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If the conservatives are going to push so hard for “America” to revert back to its Puritan ways, then they should designate a city in every state where prostitution, gambling, and drugs are legal. New Orleans with their beautifully lenient open container laws (and casual drinking hours) would be the best city in the world, if they figured out a way to legalize weed and prostitution.

Mardi Gras is the perfect backdrop to indulge in all kinds of vices before giving them all up for the almighty Jesus Christ and his resurrection (I’d say I’m giving up booze, but that is too easy–let’s make it soda pop AND booze for LENT this year).
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I went back to the “Big Easy” in order to get the city out of my system, unfortunately, I kind of fell in love with it. Falling in love with a city like New Orleans is akin to creating a romantic story about the cocktail waitress at your favorite watering hole. Sure she is fun, and witty, and knows how to have a good time; but do you really want to tell your mother where you met your fiancee?

New Orleans is a fun city, but it is corrupt (still being bank rolled by old slave money), and would you really want to be a liberal and be a registered voter in that state? Take the smallest, most backwards town in Texas and Oklahoma, give it some money and there you have Louisiana. To quote one of my favorite modern day sports philosophers, Jalen Rose, “NOT GONNA BE ABLE TO DO IT!!!!!”
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I found a room in the Garden District of town, at this sweet little hostel called the Bourbon House. I was only minutes away from the action, and got around town pretty easily on my longboard. Although the city’s flat landscape makes for ideal boarding, the roads were so fucked up and pock marked in some areas of town. I walked a good 30 % of my journeys throughout because of those misshapen streets.
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The city’s architecture is still true to much of its early settlers’ influence. The Spanish and French left their impressions upon the city, that seep out at certain times of night, in certain areas of town.
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The best thing about Mardi Gras is the pace though. People would be up with their lawn chairs out on the streets, setting up their gas grills and staking out a spot to see the parade. You’d think they were trying to get football tickets, the way they are camped out, making food and drinking. It makes it hard to tell who is starting and who is winding down.

Even at 5:30 in the morning, you’ll find the bars still open in the French Quarter–people puking in alley ways while a friend is rubbing their back; while trying to keep vomit off of their clothes.
Drinking is just another event there, making Mardi Gras the most extravagant tail gate of all time.

I figured out the best strategy to attack this, but much too late. The key is to wake up early, make a Bloody Mary, and then keep drinking until about 9:30 pm. Go home. Take a nap until about 11:45 PM. Then go back out and hit it until your body wants to drop.
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It took me until Saturday to figure this out. Before then I was starting too early in the day and going to bed at 10 at night. Pathetic right? During Mardi Gras, the party never stops, it only takes breaks. You gotta learn how to pace yourself if you are going to experience it to its fullest.
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People down there really get hype for the Parades. There are tons of them, and multiple parades a day. People get pelted with beads (I saw more than one person get clocked in the face pretty hard because they weren’t paying attention), and then they use the beads for titty currency (like free dollar bills at the strip club) down in the French Quarter (the only place where you’ll see people flash titties for beads).
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I was never around to see these exchanges, venturing into the French Quarter either too early or too late to witness this. I was okay with that though. What people don’t tell you is that the kind of women you’ll meet down in the French Quarter are not always the ones you want flashing you. In fact, I would have given them beads for these gals to keep their shirts on.

Not all titty is good titty. In fact, I’d say for every perfectly shaped breast and nipple, there are 4 or 5 Canadian Bacon shaped Areolas (sometimes “Hairy-olas”) and silver dollar nipples. Most of the women that I saw down at Mardi Gras ranged from stripper girlfriend types to NASCAR watching, Wolf and Moon shirt wearing wives.

My biggest fear aside from catching a disease from a one night stand, was mistakenly making out with a tranny. There were pretty women there for sure, but not many were worth doing a double take. It was like being in New York, but for different reasons.
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In New York, you don’t turn your head to do a double take at a passerby because you’ll miss the next approaching beauty. In New Orleans, there is rarely a reason to look back. I wish I were exaggerating.

Lastly, there was the food. I tried as much food as I possibly could (I found out too late that I should have hit up the Gumbo Shop), and to be honest, the best I had was at the same Po’Boy restaurant I frequented back in September.
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Parasol’s was hands down the best food I ran across. Their wings are fire. Their gumbo is the bomb, and the Po’Boy sandwiches are on point. Being only a few blocks from my hostel, I didn’t go there nearly enough, because I wanted to give other spots a chance. Best believe I won’t make that same mistake again.

Daisy Dukes was recommended to me as well (for their gumbo), and it was overpriced and there was not enough seafood. I also went to this spot Brothers’ Foodmart, thinking that a Bodeaga with that sold liquor, blunt wraps, and fried chicken was certainly a place for me to patronize. I hit it up on my way to the bus station, and threw half of my chicken away. It was fucking gross. It was one of the few times a brutha has steered me wrong on some cuisine.
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All in all, it was good trip. Compared to SXSW in Austin, Mardi Gras certainly pales. Besides the parades and never ending tailgate parties, there isn’t much to it. It is festive for sure, but Austin during SXSW is more diverse and richer in scope. Every coffee shop and bar is filled with live music, and people all over the world are there as art and music fans.

That being said, I had a great time. And when I go back, I’ll probably stay at the Bourbon House again. the rates are affordable, and the couple who own the property (one of three that they manage) are really hospitable and cool. Best of all, the location is perfect. Their hostel is right down the street from Magazine and St. Charles, and only a few minutes from downtown.

If you want a blueprint on “how to get it in”, go down to “Nawlings” for Mardi Gras. You’ll never be the same.

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Geekin ‘ Out on Some Old Shit

16 Feb

This video made my night

14 Feb

God bless Luther Campbell