Another day, another day off....
I slept a long time today. Originally, Leslie's sister was supposed to come up for a visit today, but she decided to take the day off and relax after she and Leslie cleaned her garage out while Leslie was down there yesterday.
I had planned to get an oil change this weekend, but that will have to wait, as Leslie discovered that I have another tire going flat in the rear of my car. Currently there is a screw in the wheel, so that will have to be patched tomorrow. What's a man in America without a car? A man in shape, because he walks or bikes everywhere. I used to be in shape. Now I'm 38.
And that brings us back to the Writ Of Common Wisdom. Tonight's entry stems from an all-too-brief career as an anesthesia billing consultant. Last year, I was attending an anesthesia conference in New Orleans. I had been in New Orleans a long time ago when my dad lived in Baton Rouge, and I didn't think much of it. First off, with my allergies juxtaposed against the Louisiana humidity, it seemed like a place where I would suffer greatly. Second, the sections I saw were run down and dirty and no one seemed to care. It was with this memory that I went to the conference. I must have been housed on the clean side of town, because I didn't see as much despair this time around. I decided ahead of the trip that since I was going to be in town, I would make a reservation to have dinner at one of the restaurants of Emeril LaGasse, famed TV chef. I later caught some flack from my boss for charging it to the company expense account, but you only live once. She ended up letting it slide. It was a little unorthodox, as I went to New Orleans alone. I sat next to two women from California, one of whom was having a birthday. I believe they were sisters. I got the sneaking suspicion that they were trying to fix me up with the birthday girl. As Leslie is now permanently inserted as my one and only, I blew it off, politely said good evening, and walked back to my hotel on what turned out to be a pleasant evening. I like walking city streets alone, as it allows me to take in the sounds around me, as well as the activity with an unblemished eye and ear. I was staying at a hotel whose name escapes me at the moment, but my window looked down on Camp Street in New Orleans. New York is often called the city that never sleeps. That may be true, but no one in America avoids sleep in quite the same way and with such a distinct and devil-may-care flavor as the denizens of New Orleans.
I don't mind being alone, but if I'm alone rather than close to the one I love, it results in songs and thoughts like those put forward below. In the past year or so, I've been listening to a lot of David Ackles. This song's chord choices drip with his influence. His footprint is on the lyrics as well, but in a more subtle way. I recommend acquiring David's work as soon as you can. His songs were fabulous. Rest in peace, David.
 
Camp Street 

  
                                                                                     
Standing wide awake again 
                  
I could swear that I still have some life to spend 
                                                            
Looking down from the 12th floor
                                                                             
Hoping for a little more 
                                                                         
And an open window 
  
                                                                                  
Insomnia returns 
               
Stitch the cuts and soothe the places I’ve been burned 
                                              
Toss and turn from bed to bed
                       
And the pounding in my head 
 
Is getting in rhythm 
  
                                                            
And the lights go out on Camp Street 
                                                            
And the lights go out on Camp Street 
                                                            
And the lights go out on Camp Street 
                                                           
‘Til the sun shines down on us again
 
 
Revelers are stumbling down 
           
The empty darkened streets and laughing thru the town 
                                         
And even when the bars are closed
 
Someone everybody knows 
                                                                 
Just keeps on drinking 
  
                                                   
Another taxi passes by 
                    
His light is out and no more fares; why even try? 
                                            
Traffic lights are flashing red
 
But the city’s only dead 
                                                                        
For just an hour 
  
                                                        
Then the light shines down on Camp Street 
                                                        
Then the light shines down on Camp Street 
                                                        
Then the light shines down on Camp Street
 
‘Til the night surrounds the streets again
 
 
This is three songs in a row of mine now that I hold in high regard when placed against the rest of my catalog.  When this one finally gets recorded, it could just be massive. For now, it's a wannabe on acoustic guitar, but a very healthy, self-reliant, Bohemian style of wannabe.  This song ends with some hope, which is hard to project with just lyrics, but trust me on this one. It happens when the music is added.
 
I just completed a bowl of banana fudge chunk ice cream, which my cat found very interesting (she finds ANYTHING in a bowl interesting). She's 14 years old and hasn't been eating lately, so we switched her to wet food to help her chew. The first helping disappeared VERY quickly. I'm hoping she's not mad that there's not more in her dish right now. I better go check. Until tomorrow, dream well..