Cat Power - The Moon

I'm listening to that song.  It's 9:30 on Sunday evening.  Spent the whole day laying around at Tony and Sam and Eli's house (dudes I went to HS with) watching football and playing their Xbox.  I always feel very conflicted on days like this; it feels so great to SLOTH but it gives me the sense that I'm betraying something fundamental that made me want to move here.  I feel like I've nursed a sort of moral responsibility in myself since being here...  and now it's grown into a self-depricating sense of urgency: "You MUST immerse yourself in the culture here!  You MUST bend / break personal boundaries!  You MUST explore yourself and explore history and explore literature and cooking and music and you MUST and MUST have the greatest time flying up and down streets in this city, because you WON'T be here forever!"

And a small (very small) part of me is very happy that I've at least got something nagging me, lighting a fire under my ass.  Because there have certainly been times when there was nothing under my ass, no sparks--not even a slight heat.  So it's nice to feel compelled to help myself feel new things and to be healthy.  And yet, at the same time, shit man do I love reminding myself / remembering that extinguishing that posterior flame can feel great.  Not just that, it can be necessary.

Don't get me wrong: I'm still lazy as hell, and I'm by no means some energetic freak who wants to organize every hour of his life down to the minute.  When I talk about the conflict between my general sense of urgency and my general sense of lethargy while in New Orleans, I mostly refer to a conflict in my head about who I should be, the way I should be living here.  I don't think I act purely based on impulse, and I think I've got an ok excuse for a rational mind, but I can't deny that my actions in the past have certainly not always occupied the "right" side of my judgment's "right vs. wrong" table.  I think about who I want to be, and who I should be, but it has always been very hard for me to put these dreams of myself into action, into fruition, to finally see myself becoming the person whom I want to become.  This is one of the reasons why I love that I moved down here: it is one of the larger self-inflicted butt-kickings I've ever received.

And it is possible to find an agreeable juncture of the ends of this conflict in me...  more than agreeable; pleasant, excellent, even.  The juncture is harmonious, and in its midst, I am in probably my most ecstatic state.  It is a state of mind and spirit where I feel that I'm simultaneously fulfilling my needs for this sense of urgency as well as for this sense of lethargy.  It is a harmony of my impulses to sculpt, to create, to discover, as well as my desires to be sculpted, to be created, to be found...  It is a place where my existence in my surroundings is least qualified, least complex, and most singular, because the flush of contentment I feel cleanses me of doubts and worries and fears.  I have felt this numerous times since being in New Orleans, and it has been wonderful.  And I think that might just be what having a sense of home is.

Though, of course, my home is in Seattle.  I can't wait to come up to visit for Christmas.

PS: Check out this time-lapse video of photographs taken hundreds of miles above the Earth...  pretty beautiful.  Stunning.     http://vimeo.com/michaelkoenig/earth-timelapse-iss

Love
Kevin

employment.

http://www.cowbell-nola.com/

Above is a link to the restaurant for which I am now a full time server / host.  "Full Time" in New Orleans, I guess, means 32 hours per week or more.  Which is kind of cool, if you consider it a reflection of the city's values...  or if you're someone who wants to pursue other things while working "full time."

Check out the "pictures" section of the website...  the food there is pretty unreal.  Today, during my interview, I had (gratis) the fish tacos.  And they were amazing.

As I ate, I spoke with Krista (!), the manager woman (her husband is the head chef) about stuff.  The interview started out sort of formal, me telling her about my experience and what I was comfortable doing. But it quickly devolved--or evolved, perhaps I should say--into a back-and-forth about what makes a good restaurant, a good eating experience, a good job, etc.  By the end, we were each drinking a beer and talking as colloquially as (and this is as close to verbatim as my memory can manage) :

Krista: You know, I just don't want fucks like that coming into my restaurant.
Me: Well why the hell else would they be here, right?
Krista: Right!  I want this to be a community oriented place, not a spot for someone to waste money and then waste time on wasted food.
Me: Hell yeah (a cheers ensues)

It was a great experience, to say the least.  She was very fond of me, I was very fond of her, I like the way she approaches food / her restaurant / her employees, and she likes something or other about me.  The point is, I'm hired, and I'll now be reeling in dough via warm greetings to restaurant goers while I attempt to shove my foot into one of New Orleans' theatrical doors.

A side note: I told her that one of my top priorities at this point in New Orleans is meeting new people and making friends...  she beamed at this.  She told me that the whole joint is one big family, the are frequently going out together, going to music clubs and bars together, hanging out and genuinely enjoying one another's company.

ANOTHER side note: There are two male employees.  All the rest (over 10 in number) are female.  When I walked into the restaurant, I was struck by how many beautiful women were working there.  It was some weird sort of Greek fantasy, I thought...  but...  well, let's just leave it at that.  I am pleased.

Hope all is well.  I can't wait to come up for Christmas and see y'all.

Love,

Kevin