Can I just say how much I wish I were in New Orleans right now? Earlier tonight I was driving home and heard some blues-y buskers on a corner, and just now a car drove past my apartment with something funky coming through the open windows, and I was just hit with this urge to be in the Quarter, or perhaps the Marigny, hearing music from all directions, the air so moist and thick you can part it with your hands, the finest food on God's green earth, and a go-cup just for the hell of it. God damn, San Francisco's perfectly nice, but sometimes I feel like I'm just not in the right place, you know?
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Let's go right now.
Posted by: Your Wife | June 23, 2005 at 04:48 PM
Ed, I'm confused. At first I thought "The Sensationalist" was your wife. But then there's also a poster with the handle "Your Wife".
It's 95 degrees in Boston. No jazz, no to go cups, just pain.
Posted by: Doug | June 25, 2005 at 10:02 AM
You'll have to take that up with her.
Go-cups in Boston--now that's a riot waiting to happen.
Posted by: Ed | June 25, 2005 at 11:43 AM
Hey, I like to mix it up a little, Doug. Got a problem with that?
Posted by: The Sensationalist | June 25, 2005 at 11:58 AM