I just turned 27. That’s so odd to say…err..type. So, to celebrate/have a mild breakdown, I ditched Austin for a couple of weeks in order to clear my head and write some new tunes. New Orleans, Louisiana! I haven’t broken down yet, and honestly, I’m not sure I will. I actually feel loads better and quite comfortable floating around watching people and being on my own here.

Yesterday, day 1, I walked down Canal to the French quarter and decided to play tourist. Took a tour on a mule-pulled carriage and had alot of info crammed into my head. I don’t know if any of it stuck very firmly, but images and emotions have been feeding my inspiration since then…If only I could get them all sorted. After tour completion, I sat at the fountain in Jackson square watching everyone else take pictures. It seems funny that these people with cameras glued to their faces will only get to experience New Orleans in the future when they sit down to upload photos to facebook or whatever. Their first experience will be a memory…or maybe a camera lens is just another filter to add to perception. With so many advances in technology, we are becoming our machines. who is to say the old way is better? Maybe our focus is just tightening…afterall, my eyeballs are just lenses, and my brain is the storage devise. Jesus, and I cant remember shit half of the time, so maybe more reliable machinery should be required. Its like my brain is an old pc I refuse to give up to the mac run world. ANYWAY

I had my cards and plams read in the square. The angels like me after all, who knew? The sweet man kept asking me questions and as soon as I’d start to answer, he’d rush in an attempt at reading my lips to say whatever word he thought was coming out of my mouth. Then, he would beam and say,

” See, did you see how I said that right before you said that? I’m so clairvoyant!”

It was actually kind of cute. He directed me to New York, said I was about to bank, told me to ditch my old music and continue with more recent work, and to be patient in my love life, but “don’t let them motherfuckers walk all over you.”

Thanks Jeffie, no shit.

According to the sharp blonde behind the bar at Lafitte’s blacksmith shop, hurricane season just started, but it’ll be cake until August. I hung around at the bar for a bit and heard some ghost stories. And an enema story, which made me blanch like a ghost, so sort of similar? And a very nice man told me a joke: What’s the difference between a lawyer and a bucket of shit? The bucket. He laughed loudly and introduced himself as Glen, a lawyer. I got bored waiting for a ghost to appear so weaved my way down royal street stopping at every other store front to look at the sparklies. Got a 1/4 inch at the music factory, then blistered my feet getting home. I forgot socks. Again.

Im staying in an old boarding house that is to be torn down soon to make way for a new hospital. I’m all for helping broken people, but don’t both of those businesses serve the same purpose? Rest of the night involved beer and writing and beer and playing and beer and chatting with my neighbor on the balcony about music, working in a majorly male dominated field, past shit jobs, traveling, begging for trees, and men.

Day 2 I decided to start a video blog, so here goes:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2R5uFSQw_Yg