PEACEFUL SLEAZY FEELING

Yo! His Muthafuckin' Holiness in da hood!

With New Orleans devolving into a Road Warrior-esque post-apocalyptic nightmare, I thought I would take the high road of remembering fonder times, as opposed to the standard partisan hackery that seems to be on everyone's agenda.

FEMA failed. Bush is awkward and aloof. How is any of this surprising, much less news? Really. And who didn't see shit like this coming? Honestly...I was counting down the days. And it all conveniently takes our minds off this, of course. But then, it wouldn't take a hurricane to distract us, would it?

So what IS newsworthy? Me...POSTING DAILY in tribute to the fallen city.

Several years ago, I hung out in New Orleans, did some sleazy gonzo soul-searching, and came up with the story of my fledgling career. It was an experiment on my audience--one with a uniques secret that I shall not reveal until all has been reprinted and revisited here. It is time to begin the experiment anew.

"Peaceful Sleazy Feeling" was serialized in numerous internet publications in early 2001.

For the next several days, I will be posting exerpts of it here--the naughty bits, of course.

Prepare for the worst...and best!

Here's some background:

I had an awkward conversation with this slightly obnoxious yuppie-type, who had been frequenting film nights and Alley Parties of late. He had no tact, and no depth, but vocalized an unexpected soft spot in his upwardly-mobile heart for transplanted southern boys like myself, who rarely get to celebrate Down Home.
In between his spurious, hyper cell-phone conversations, he informed me of a Master Plan he and two pals recently cooked up to invade the City of New Orleans for Mardi Gras like your cute girlfriend’s privacy. He also mentioned that they were willing to take along anyone who truly wanted to go—whether they had any money or not.
Suddenly, I felt compelled to give Boy Wonder(Bread) a chance, though I was unsure how serious to take it all at first—everyone is generous when drunk. But subsequent sober speech implied that this was the real deal. I was going…for sure: He said his companions would gladly pay at least half my way, and would also be providing the vehicle, doing the driving, and providing hotel stay (“if necessary”). What the Hell could go wrong with this one?
I felt the heavens stifling chortles…Oh sure, the guy was a bit of a mamma’s boy—but how annoying can one human being be over a mere three days? (Stop that…I hear you!) He was capable of delivering the goods, if nothing else, right? (I said stop!) And if nothing else, I would at least have the satisfaction of leaving my personal issues at home. (I meant that—stop it! Cease, oh Heavens…for I hear Your giddy roar. Oh what now?!)

To be continued...

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