They can roll my 95-year-old carcass into New Orleans on a self-levitating dolly – preferably with my brain suspended in protein jelly within a glass bowl – and I could still have a good time. Breathing the air at night is like ingesting hot water, with pellet-sized mosquitoes flying into your eyeballs; after four paces, you break into a slimy sweat. Rock!
I just had an oyster and shrimp poboy from the Verti Marte, and Chopin just peed on Decatur Street under a hazy moon, so life is good. Even Lucy got on the phone and cooed, thus making the last five hundred miles of today’s drive an easy drift into the bayou.
Annie and I spent last night in Jasper, GA with Salem, Elizabeth, and their two kids McCall and Victoria. The effervescent Victoria brought her two friends over, so I did my best to teach them the ways of the world by introducing them to poker.
I have to say I’ve played a lot of poker in my life, but I’ve never seen anyone fold with four of a kind (yeesh!) nor have I ever experienced a poker player who brought an egg to the table, and then broke it all over the money, thus leading to a quick exodus.
that’s one way to end the game
Played night hoops with one of the girls – who is one of the stars of the high school team – and she had a smokin’ jump shot. By 2am, I agreed to take all the kids in the SUV to the late-night window at Wendy’s, but got sidetracked because they wanted to steal some real estate signs and put them in a friend’s lawn. It was my duty to oblige.
I went to high school in a demoralizing, depressing navy town and it took about three seconds of their screams of glee before I remembered what it was like, hot nights of zero going on, finding someone to drive us to an abandoned swimming pool, talking shit on Hampy’s diving board.
Speaking of which, some dude jumped the curb in Carrboro while I was there, and literally “drove thru” Wendy’s. Some people just don’t know how to handle late June nights with nothing to do.