It has been a in New Orleans.
In no particular order of importance, here are some updates:
- I wrote a story some time ago about the Victorian Dollhouse on St. Charles Ave. Tea at the Dollhouse was the story, written around a house that enchanted me. I now find that the house is the Al Gore campaign headquarters, and that Tipper Gore is going to be on display there in the next week or so.
Tipper Gore. At my gothic dollhouse. I’m outraged. What would “Sprane” say? “Bollocks!”
- Was out in the Quarter the other night with Patti and she grabbed my arm and said hastily, “Look who cometh! Do you know who this is?”
“Oh m’gawd,” quoth I, “it’s fuckin’ Melody!” Melody, from another epic piece I wrote, the play “Sophie Wright Place”. Years later, this chick is still wandering freely along Decatur. Is there no sanity?
- Setting: Molly’s at the Market, French Quarter. Patti indroduces me to Squirrel. Some of you Americans may know who this is if you watch that stupid Real World television programme. Apparently, she boxed and knocked out the annoying blonde Mormon twat on the Monday airing of the show.
“Welcome to the Real World, bitch!”
Tee hee.
- Also at Molly’s that night was the one — the only — Harry Fuckin’ Anderson. That’s theee Harry Anderson, from Night Court, y’all. He took photobooth pictures with Squirrel and showed off his new tattoo to Patti who is quite the fancy tattoo lady herself.
He looks like you’d expect: Harry Anderson, 15 years later.
Personal news: the Marquis had a brief interview at a web design company this afternoon in Metairie and seems to have pretty much landed a lovely job. This is weird for me, having a job in New Orleans. Last time I lived here, it was a technology-free zone, and I was behooved to make a hasty retreat to Philadelphia to secure an income.
I spent the sweltering, muggy, rainy morning driving around the Garden District looking for a home. Found a few likely candidates and I shall ring them up on Monday and see what can be done.
Tonight: going to an after-hours party for a national convention in town, the Cyberotica shindig. Online smut. Should make some lucrative and entertaining contacts if I behave inappropriately. But more on that later.
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