Balaenius Rex!!

Where to stay in New Orleans

2013-01-14T17:45:00.001-05:00

La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast

The humble narrator of this blog for many years has opened a bed and breakfast inn in New Orleans, LA with his wife of many years.

If you are thinking about visiting New Orleans, a city like no other, consider La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast. It is a lovely place on a lovely street in a lovely neighborhood in the most unique city on earth. A trip to New Orleans makes fond memories. So does La Belle Esplanade.

We look forward to hosting you and sharing everything we know about New Orleans.

A votre sante.

Rewritten 1940s beer advertisement

2012-11-17T20:32:00.000-05:00

I rewrote a 1940s beer advertisement:

In this fun-loving land of ours, hops and malt are all about the good times spent with neighbors. A small part of this great land of yours and mine is an ancient French city that was a province of the Spanish crown, that is governed by Napoleonic codes and the timeless law that the good times should be allowed to roll without interference. In New Orleans, like everywhere in the U.S. of A, people get thirsty.

America is a country of kindliness, of friendship, and of good-natured tolerance. New Orleans sets the standard for all three qualities within its ample, broad bosom. I’ve heard that an apple tree grew in the center of Jackson Square long before the Creoles arrived to plant their flags. If there is sin in New Orleans, it is quicker than liquor and it is quickly forgiven. Perhaps no beverages are more “at home” on more occasions than good American beer and ale, especially if it is drunk in New Orleans.

Beer and ale are the kinds of beverages Americans love. Take a trip to New Orleans and discover how much beer a belly can bear if a beer belly can bear the strain. It is easy to soak up the ambience in New Orleans, LA. American-brewed beer and ale belong. Especially DIxie. Especially Jax. Especially Abita. Especially NOLA. They are an important component of pleasant living and good fellowship when sipped with sensible moderation.

It is every American’s right to enjoy beer and ale, a family-friendly, community-friendly beverage, especially in New Orleans, LA. Our American heritage of personal freedom is shown to all the world in our per capita beer consumption statistics. Nowhere is this more true than in New Orleans. Nowhere else is the flag of freedom flown so high, wtih less worry or care, or with more friendly dispostion.

Be a New Orleanian, wherever you are.

If you are thinking of visiting New Orleans anytime soon. We know of a nice historic bed and breakfast in the middle of Esplanade Avenue. Close to the French Quarter and the usual destinations, and close to everywhere else.

New Location!!!

2012-10-20T18:48:00.000-04:00

New Orleans' newest bed and breakfast

I know, I know. The posting on this blog has been spotty of late. That's because I have been writing over here at La Belle Esplanade. This blog has wandered off into my peripheral vision as I enter into my new career as an innkeeper.

Mrs. King and I are proud custodians of a historic property on picturesque Esplanade Avenue in New Orleans, Louisiana, USA. We have completed some extensive renovations and we are open for business as a historic New Orleans bed and breakfast with five two-room suites with private balconies and lush gardens in the back.

While the La Belle Esplanade blog does detail what we are doing around the property to make it a showplace and headquarters for visitors to our fair city, the content is still full of that odd Whalehead magic, turns of phrase, and interesting (to me) explorations of our neighborhood and the city at large. Check it out. Balaenius Rex!

If you know anyone who is visiting New Orleans and you think they will appreciate staying in a living neighborhood close by the majority of usual tourist destinations, feel free to direct them to our website. The url? Why, it is whaleheading.com, 'natch. We serve a different breakfast every day featuring locally produced items procured from farmers, nearby bakeries, and restaurants. The furnishings are a mix of period antiques and curios in a very convenient location. We offer complimentary bicycles for people who want to explore New Orleans in the round.

Be a New Orleanian wherever you are.

A votre sante, and,
With a handshake,
Matthew "Whalehead" King

One Hundred Pennies

2012-07-22T08:03:00.001-04:00

There was a penny on the sidewalk, on Esplanade Avenue, between North Galvez Street and North Villere Street.

A man in a plaid jacket walked by it, never noticing it. A man in a wheelchair rolled over it, not noticing it. It started to rain. A woman looking down, under her umbrella did not see the penny in the puddle. A little girl carrying a plastic bag full of soda pop and eggs hurried home, looking at the sky. The copper in the penny turned another shade of green.

One hundred pennies make a dollar. One hundred dollars make a hundred dollar bill.

The rain stopped sometime after midnight, and the moon came out. The leaves overhead rustled in a light breeze. Everything was fine.

A baby was born at exactly 1:01 AM, across town. His mother fell asleep with him on her chest. His father was not there for the birth, except in spirit. The baby’s grandmother read a magazine a few rooms away.

A trashcan on the sidewalk overflowed with cardboard and rotten fruit. Someone dropped an empty pint bottle into it. All the windows along the street were dark. A light went on in one of the houses.

There were less than a hundred stars visible in the sky past the glow of the streetlights. They were all bright.

The filament in the lightbulb glowed yellow. The bare room had white walls, a white ceiling, and an unstained wood floor. The window was black from the inside. There was a jar of pennies on the mantle, some of them old, some of them new. There were more than a hundred of them, mixed with nickels and dimes, mixed with some quarters. Not a hundred dollars in the whole bunch, but enough.

La Belle de l'Avenue d'Esplanade

2012-06-18T20:08:00.002-04:00

La Belle de l'Avenue d'Esplanade

Who is the most beautiful woman on Esplanade Avenue in New Orleans, Louisiana? I know her well. I've been keeping time with her on the sly, fulfilling daydreams and while she whispers sweet somethings in my ear.

Regular readers have noticed that I haven't been posting as much as usual. I've been keeping time with a lady and I'm being coy about it. Please do not flood my inbox with mail. All will be revealed in good time.

This venerable blog, started in 2002, to the best of my recollection, which is a pretty good run in internet terms, may be discontinued soon. Not because I have no use in keeping the public informed of my scintillating observations, but because it may be more worthwhile to put them elsewhere.

The most beautiful woman on Esplanade Avenue in New Orleans, LA, has been whispering her wishes into my left ear, and her notions haven't slipped out my right. It is more than pillow talk. There are contracts involved.

Baleanius Rex! will be up and running for another month at least. Even when this venerable blog, that has given so many people so much pleasure over the years, folds, there will be another media outlet where regular readers can get their accustomed fix. Since money will be involved with this new platform, a more regular and reliable schedule can be assured. Stay tuned. In the meantime, enjoy the parade.

With a handshake,
and a tip of the fedora,

Whalehead King

New Orleans Now and Then and Then

2012-05-15T21:28:00.001-04:00

Our Lady of Prompt Succor, patroness of New Orleans, LA

Memory Lane is a two way street. So is Esplanade Avenue in New Orleans, Louisiana. So is Bayou Road. If you can bounce, drop to the floor. Shake it if you have it. Flaunt it if you have it. Who’s that? It just might be you. The mirror refuses to lie. When you are in New Orleans, you haven’t a care in the whole wide world. New Orleans is like no place else. Nights do not end after midnight, unless it is twelve o’clock AM tomorrow.

Freedom is spelled phonetically, with the accent on communal liberty. You cannot spend twenty-four hours in New Orleans without making a friend. No one is alone in a big city with a big heart that is bursting at the seams like a red bean that has been soaking all day in a stewpot. When there is nothing to lose, there is nowhere to go but up. Vive l’esprit. Vive le coeur. The heart is not a lonely hunter. Happiness loves company.

No one means to be rude. There is no need to excuse. When people stop their foolishness, there is nothing left but wisdom. A catholic city, a universal metropole, where citizenship is earned with a song, one breath of New Orleans air sets a spirit free. Home is where the heart is. Home is where the soul resides. Once you go back, baby, there is nowhere to go but up. There is a sea change at sea level, and a river runs through it. Uptown, downtown, West Bank or East, when you dance like you mean it, you have rhythm in your blood.

You cannot pave over paradise. There is no blight in the night. When the air is too thick to be stirred by a breeze, thunderheads rain. Life is a parade. You know what I mean, baby. The future is now and the past is now. Now is the sum of all of its parts. Barbers and carpenters practice their trades. Grandmothers will their homes to their grandchildren’s children. A dime is as good as a doubloon in New Orleans.

The most beautiful women live in New Orleans, LA.

Crawfish get boiled. Crabs get boiled. Oysters are shucked. Sausage is more than the sum of its ingredients. Turkey necks are simmered. Gumbo is full of herbs. Everything is consumed in New Orleans. Everything is nourishing meat. Manna is picked up on the street. When you shake your money maker, you will eat fat on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and throughout every week of the year. It is as easy to make a living in New Orleans as it is hard. It is a city of opposites. It is hard to tell who is rich and who is poor. When property is measured in arpents, regular yardsticks are tossed to the side.

New Orleans has a long, tangible, prescient memory. You may get lost in the moment, but you always know where to find yourself. Here. Now. Happy.

New Orleans' 7th Ward Smells Good

2012-04-28T16:51:00.001-04:00

Ladies love the scent of New Orleans's 7th Ward

In my role as a flaneur, I was walking down St. Bernard Avenue on my way to Sidney’s saloon. I noticed a flyer taped to the remaining pane of glass in a window that had reflected many happier days than this one. It was nothing fancy. A few sheets of plain white paper had been inscribed with black ink. The penmanship was sharp and permanent:

FOR SALE: GENUINE 7TH WARD BAY RUM from an AUTHENTIC, SECRET, FAMILY RECIPE handed down by MY GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER’s generation. Jacques Washington was always known as a ladies‘ man before he married Josephine Marie Egale. From the day he turned thirteen years old, he was seen with a different, shady lady on his arm every week. He loved them all and he left them all until he stayed with Josephine Marie Egale. I know his secret. So do the many successful men who purchase MY GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER’s 7th Ward Bay Rum. Ladies love the scent of 7th Ward Bay Rum. Purchase a bottle and learn the secret for yourself!

To make a batch, I concoct a distillate of one fluid ounce of dark, Haitian rum and twelve ounces of Taaka vodka. I assemble a cheesecloth bag of bay leaves, muddled bayberries, crushed cloves, thirteen cinnamon sticks, and the zest of twelve limes and three oranges. I tincture this recipe for a full 27 days, agitating thoroughly on days of Luminous Mysteries. After straining the cologne water through my GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER’s patented filtration system, this GENUINE 7th Ward Bay Rum can be your catnip for the fairer sex. Sold by the quarter ounce. If you don’t want to leave enough for the next guy, buy two. 7th Ward Bay Rum has been proven to make six ladies out of ten weak between their knees. 7th Ward Bay Rum delivers six-in-one, and you can keep the change.

To purchase, contact myself, sole proprietor and chief chemist of the Great-Great-Great-Grandfather Seventh Ward Bay Parfumerie, LLC, at (cell) 555-7BA-YRUM. I am Jaxavier Egale, the great-great-great-grandson of that famous cock-of-the-walk, Jacques Washington. He and Josephine Marie Egale had a son named Louis Philip Washington. He was a vegetable dealer in Saint Roch Market, brewing GENUINE 7th Ward Bay as a lucrative sideline. Louis Washington’s son was Louie Washington, who continued the family tradition of making men smell irresistible to women. Louie, the son, worked at a haberdashery on Canal Street, advising gentlemen of distinction of how to smell their best. He never did anything official, like soft-selling the merchandise on the shelves, or even developing a house blend of aftershave, which he was certainly capable of doing. He would just ask a customer if he wanted to get wet even if it wasn’t raining. If the customer knew the answer, he would slip Louie the requisite fee, and Louie would hand over a small vial of GENUINE 7th Ward Bay Rum that he had prepared the month before and was keeping in his vest pocket.

My father was the honorable Martine Oriole Egale, and my mother was Mdm. Clarisette Euterpe Miret. They owned and operated the One Stop Grocery Plus on North Dorgenois Street, selling hot plates and fresh vegetables, beer, cigarettes, and liquor, lottery tickets, and over the counter medications twenty-four hours a day. They also had the most extensive lines of gentlemen’s toilet water between Gravier Street and Miami, Florida to the east, and Corpus Christi, Texas to the west. My father and my mother taught me everything I know.

Ask any of my clients in the Garden District, or the clients who live within sight of Lake Vista, and they will tell you that my bay rum is the best. Free delivery available in the Warehouse District and in Bywater. Wholesale inquiries welcome.

Brown Derby Number 3, New Orleans, LA

2012-04-23T22:36:00.001-04:00

When a cockroach runs over your foot in New Orleans, it is the same size and just as heavy as a mouse. Welcome to a tropical clime in a city as flat as a puddle and as dry as a slurry.

Many people muddle their way through a New Orleans night. When you are thirsty in New Orleans, you will always be able to find a drink.

Wake up and smell the chicory in the coffee. When you need a tonic, there is more than one big shot of vim in New Orleans.

Don't confuse Music Street with Frenchman Street, or Agriculture Street with Arts Street, or Duels Street with Law Street. When a cemetery is five short stories tall, you know you are in New Orleans. If you find yourself weeping from joy, or laughing from loss, you are probably on Piety Street, or Magazine Street, or General Pershing Street, or General De Gaul Avenue. Uptown, Downtown, or Old Algiers, the same song keeps playing, the same pulse keeps beating. The policemen perform their patrols. Business goes on uninterrupted. There is more than one way to keep the peace. A city's nature can be eternally lush and eternally chaste in any given circumstance.

I was at the Brown Derby Number 3 at the corner of Jefferson Davis Parkway and Tulane Avenue getting an order of fried chicken livers when I bumped into Misery Childs as I paid for my order. Only a capricious, or an unconscious, mother would call her daughter Misery. We all grow into the name we are born with. Sometimes it takes a lifetime, but once a seed is planted it has no choice but to sprout.

Misery Childs and I know each other. We took a food handler's safety course at Delgado Community College last summer. Misery got the highest grade in the class. "Hello, Mr. King," she said. "Can you spare a quarter?"

I had spent my last dime on fried chicken livers. We went to the neutral ground at South Jefferson Davis Parkway, and I opened the styrofoam container. I only ate two livers. Misery ate the rest of the ample portion. She ate like she hadn't eaten for days. She licked her fingers. She licked the styrofoam.

It was getting late and I had to go home. Misery told me she had business on Airline Drive. "Thanks for the nice evening, Mr. King," she said. She added, "Balaenius Rex!" as we shook hands.

I smiled halfheartedly. "Balaenius Rex!" I said in return. We shook hands, again. I headed toward Canal Street. She headed toward whatever errands she had on Airline Drive past the Crystal Preserves Building.

I am sitting on my back porch as I write this. A cockroach has just run over my foot, fleet and light as a mouse and just as furtive. I wonder what Misery Childs is doing right now.

Balaenius Rex, indeed. Vita brevis et novum orlaenium longa. Humid city air can set a person free for a spell. It must be dark before dawn breaks, even when every morning begins in gray fog.

New Orleans is for Lovers

2012-03-27T17:40:00.000-04:00

Living in New Orleans is like winning a round trip ticket to Heaven. Love, not hunger, makes the best sauce. New Orleans is a harbor for ships of any flag. New Orleans is a melting pot, a catholic city, where dignity is tradition, and joy is the rhythm of life. The lucky are thankful for what they receive. New Orleans is for lovers.

Be both a borrower and a lender. Borrow the well worn quilt of New Orleans hospitality, and pass it on to the next person once you are hot. Lend your talents to New Orleans as long as you are here. Be yourself when you are here. When you are somewhere else, be New Orleans. Home is where the heart is. You have a friend in New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans is for lovers.

Louisiana is a sportsmen’s paradise, but New Orleans is a world apart. No one shoots guns at animals in New Orleans. The people who fish Bayou St John, the lagoons of City Park, the shallow waters of Bayou Lafitte, and the people who drag lines on the Algiers Ferry, catch and release. You can get more than you bargain for in New Orleans, just don’t read the newspaper. Listen to the song of the street. Dance. New Orleans is for lovers.

A pelican in its piety

There is tit for y’at in New Orleans, America, a city that dances like no one is watching. Good things happen from Bywater to River Bend, from Hollygrove to Holy Cross, from Venetian Isles to Jackson Barracks. From the West End to New Orleans East, every day is filled with lagniappe. There is no such thing as a bad day in New Orleans, because every day is just an introduction to tomorrow. New Orleans is for lovers.

The swans in City Park mate for life. The whistling ducks in Audubon Park carry the city’s tune. Every week is a parade route. Sweet dreams are woven through New Orleans nights. This a city as full of brass and polish, as it is a city in which every neighborhood is rich. New Orleans is for lovers.

Every person is an artist. New Orleans is a city in which art is intimate with life. There are more than nine muses. There are more than nine streets. Pelicans soar in their piety over the south shore of Lake Pontchartrain, over Bayou Saint John, and over the Big Muddy, itself. It is easy to get lost in New Orleans. It is also easy to find a friend. You have a friend in New Orleans.

There is always room at the bar in New Orleans. There is always room to bend an elbow. There is always an ear willing to be bent. New Orleans is affectionate to those who love her. New Orleans is full of kisses. It is a moist caress. There is no place on earth more open to celebrating itself, and being itself. New Orleans is an oasis pierced by a river. Liquid defines New Orleans. Where life is fluid, it rains pennies from heaven. New Orleans is for lovers.

An incurable disease

2012-03-25T19:15:00.000-04:00

Our Lady of Prompt Succor, hasten to help us.

New Orleans' good cheer is infectious. This is why everyone is welcome to spend some time in the Crescent City. New Orleans matters. There is nowhere else like it on earth. The more people catch this contagion directly, the happier everyone will be.

Nonna Mia. 3125 Esplanade Avenue, New Orleans, LA.

2012-03-24T22:30:00.000-04:00

Saint Expedite. Patron of prompt delivery.

La dolce vita is saucy in New Orleans. New Orleans is not a pizza town, so when a pizzeria stays in business, you can bet that they cook a good pie. With indoor and outdoor seating, Nonna Mia does what it does very well.

On Mondays and Tuesdays, pitchers of beer are five dollars, and bottles of wine are half price. This is reason enough for some visitors to New Orleans to extend their stays past a weekend. Nonna Mia, like every generation of endeavors, was born out of love. New Orleans runs on live, shared between grandmother and daughter and granddaughter. Traditions are made by the people who live them. Nonna Mia delivers.

Neither deep dish nor thin crust, the pizza chefs at Nonna Mia craft their pies New Orleans-style. Even if your nonna is not from Nola, you still know good pizza when it is put in front of you. This is good pizza. If you walking up to City Park, pop in for a slice at the bar. If you want to sample a slice of New Orleans pizza culture, you will get an flavorful education.

Knotty and Nice in New Orleans

2012-03-22T22:17:00.000-04:00

A typical New Orleans Street.

Knitting is knotty, but no one is naughty in New Orleans, Louisiana. If anything is racy, it is happening at the Fair Grounds. If anything is innocent, it is happening on Ursulines Street. If anyone is happy...well, that could be anywhere between Hollygrove and Holy Cross.

You have a friend in New London, Conn.

2012-03-16T01:00:00.002-04:00

It's New London, baby. Mare liberum!!

New London, Connecticut is a city that knows no rival, It is Connecticut’s Whaling City. It is a good fishing place off the west bank of Connecticut’s Thames River, where the shad and the alewives run thick with the eels, in season. It is a city built on a foundation of spermaceti and spunk. Like a plate of spaghetti, there is no way to separate all the tangled, slippery propositions in New London’s try pot.

New London, Connecticut is hygienic. New London, Connecticut is pure and clean. East New London is to the north of the city’s center. Powder Island is made of granite and generations of guano sedimented into tall tales close to the waterline. There are a few ledges in New London, Connecticut, and there are plenty of lights.

Just Under The Goldstar Bridge Overpass (JUGBO), on Central Avenue, in New London, Connecticut, life unfolds with the same graceful splash that reigns over the whole city. Husbands love their wives on Adelaide Street. Husbands love their husbands on West Street. Wives love their wives on Hempstead Street. Parents love their children on Jefferson Avenue, and children love their parents on Ocean Avenue. People who live alone find solace and comfort in Bates Woods, or in Cedar Grove.

New London, Connecticut is a small city, and it is a very hip city. It has chosen to stay true to its flukes. New London, Connecticut is for lovers.

If anything is true in New London, Connecticut, it is that you never know what tomorrow will bring. If you get turned around in New London, Connecticut, you will always find your way. Head toward the ebb and flow of Connecticut’s Thames River. Breath the New London air. The sun is always shining on New London, even when the clouds are raining.

They should be riding motor scootes.

Life in New London, Connecticut is opera without soft soap. Life in New London is good. Life in New London is better. Life in New London, Connecticut is a healthy salt bath in sack cloth and garters. A day in New London, Connecticut is like a day at a health spa. Nothing relaxes like an hour walking Bank Street on a New London day. In New London, Connecticut, The Parade is the goal of a pleasant stroll. There are public restrooms located in the train station.

New London is elegant. New London is beautiful. New London is for lovers. New London soars as high as the halo over the Mohican Hotel after midnight. New London is an open clam shell slick with whale oil. New London wears a pearl necklace and a corset strung with baleen. New London has a long tail. When you expect the worst...POP!...everything is better than before. That is the way things work in New London, Connecticut.

California Fruit?

There is an old song that was popular in the Gay Nineties. It was called, “I’ll Never Forget My First Old New London Gal.” It was popular on the vaudeville circuit, and sailors sang it while they were climbing the mizzen heads on the lookout for Ledge Light. Some nights, at 2:00 AM, after the Dutch Tavern is locked up for the night, the bartender will sing “I’ll Never Forget My First Old New London Gal,” while he mops under the card tables.

Nobody ever forgets their first day in New London, Connecticut, and no one forgets their last day...unless they die in New London, Connecticut. In that case, they are in heaven.

Nobody forgets New London, Connecticut for long. Every poison has its antidote. If a spermatozoa were as large as a whale, it would be as large as New London’s heart. That measures out to be a filament more than five square miles and miles and miles of heart.

Lamplighter Of The World, New London, Connecticut is a place better lived than learned. Whatever you read between these lines is but a rainbow on a puddle compared to the slippery slope up Town Hill past the courthouse on a December night when the sleet is blowing fast off Long Island Sound. The spirit of Nathan Hale inspires the good folk who live on Granite Street.

Kanesha Murphy kisses her daughter goodnight on Vauxhall Street. Otis Shear says his prayers with his son on Ashcraft Road. Mickey Finn is nursing a pint at the Polish American Veterans Club on Central Avenue. Joan Morrow is heading home after a late shift at Shallett's Laundry. A party of eight is enjoying pizza pie at Illiano's. Everyone is healthy at Lawrence and Memorial Hospital.

A third-class pharmacist's mate from 1906 could get off the train at the foot of State Street today and know exactly where he is. New London, Connecticut is eternal. New London, Connecticut is for lovers.

A Five-Star Whale Production.!

Lamplighter of the World, New London is for lovers. There are no rivals when all is fair in love and peace. There are no enemies when everyone is a neighbor. Fellow-citizens work together. Fellow-citizens make good neighbors. New London is for lovers. New London is where it is at. Home is where the heart is. New London, Connecticut is a fertile garden where flowers bloom like spume year round.

What's Going on in Eunice, LA?

2012-03-15T00:20:00.001-04:00

No one is naughty in Eunice, LA.

I happen to know some of what is going on in Eunice, Louisiana. "How do you know anything about anything happening in Eunice, LA?" you ask. "You seem so happy to live in New Orleans, I couldn't imagine you traveling far!" You are partly right.

It is true that I am perfectly content staying in my neighborhood, but, for whatever reason, I have an itch that only Eunice can scratch. I visited Eunice recently, and Eunice got under my skin.

I happen to know some of what is going on in Eunice, Louisiana because I have been receiving a one-month subscription to the fair city's newspaper of record, for the past month. "What is it called?" you ask. It is called The Eunice News. It is a paring of words that is that is not mentioned once in the wikipedia. It is well-known around Eunice, though. The paper is published every Thursday and Sunday. The Sunday edition also contains a Parade Magazine. There are no comic strips. The children of Eunice don't need any enticements to read the inspirational musings of the current week's Student of the Week.

So, what do I know from reading the Eunice News when it is delivered via USPS every Saturday and Tuesday? There seems to be a lot of crime in Eunice, Louisiana, but no more than one would find in any other major city. There seems to be secret sex offender court that keeps all its records sealed. The Eunice News is trying to inform the public, but is being stymied by the local judiciary. None of it makes any sense. The state is auditing the school board for some kind of budget discrepancy. The editorial page broadcasts very interesting opinions.

Did you know they celebrate Mardi Gras in Eunice, LA? I read about it in The Eunice News. Now that I've read about it for a month, I know where I'll be next Mardi Gras: in Eunice, Louisiana.

The hometown favorite, farm team, the Lady Cats are full of pulchritude and spunk.

So, I know a little bit about Eunice, LA. I know what I read. I still don't know what it is like to live in Eunice. I don't know what it is like to wake up in the morning and say, "I'm in Eunice, today!" I don't know what life is like at the Gateway to the Cajun Prairie, but I'd like to learn on which side I belong. I suspect a little bit of both. I've had a taste, now I hanker for a meal. I have to sample some more of Eunice's famed hospitality.

The sun does not always shine on Eunice, Louisiana, but, when it does, boy! does it shine. At least that's what I read in the newspaper. When people are good neighbors, a community has a heart as big as Eunice, LA. Home is where the heart is.

I have not spent long enough in Eunice's arms, pressed close to her ample bosom. I am not the first person to say this. I have not gotten to know Eunice as well as I should. How many people say that? More than you would suppose. Eunice casts a spell.

I have never seen the starry sky above Fairground Park, but I will some day. I have never chased a chicken. If Liberty is theater, then I dream of Eunice, a city in which dreams are set free. No other fair city in LA is more fairly named.

I'm going to Eunice, LA.

A bed and breakfast visit on Esplanade Avenue

2012-03-10T22:43:00.000-05:00

A fictionalized account of a typical day on the 2200 block of Esplanade Avenue, New Orleans, Louisiana, U.S.A. Everything is familiar except the ending. In New Orleans, nobody asks anybody to stop singing. Everybody encourages everybody else. Everybody follows the lead of the muse.

New Orleans is for lovers of the good life.

The Odditarium.

2012-03-07T23:45:00.001-05:00

Whalehead King's Odditarium.

If you ever wondering how I seemingly disappear without the front door being opened. here is the secret. It is a tunnel located under the floor.

Guns are permitted in the Odditarium, but they are rarely welcome. When ahimsa is the rule, there is no need for shrapnel.

WK

No doubt this image is copyright Marvel Entertainment Group, and it is used for purposes of critical commentary only.

A Slice of Heaven

2012-02-27T23:26:00.000-05:00

This one isn't about New Orleans, today, folks! Take a gander at this downtown Fort Wayne, Indiana marvel. This is one video that should be an hour longer.

A tip of the fedora to Herb for making us aware of this!

Pelican angel

2012-02-24T22:07:00.000-05:00

A pelican has an angel's wingspan.

Ode to New Orleans.

2012-02-20T00:06:00.000-05:00

A face made for radio, an outfit made for Mardi Gras.

Walk down a New Orleans street and you will see people tending their own business, which is none of yours, part of an inscrutable communal body and spirit. Faith, hope, and charity keep New Orleans running, along with talent, gumption, tenacity, mendacity, tradition, and lessons learned from the school of heart knocks. New Orleans runs on its own fuel, ask anyone who has sniffed the fumes. You can live the high life in New Orleans, but only after you’ve scraped the bottom. Not every shooting star burns out. Some of them land in the Sixth Ward, the Seventh Ward, the Fifth Ward, or the Third Ward in New Orleans, Louisiana. Where there are bitches, there are riches. Where there are hens, their eggs are like gold.

Everyone smiles every day in New Orleans, a city where blessings are counted and curses ignored. Every street in New Orleans is an Esplanade Avenue.

Destination Unknown

2012-02-18T01:58:00.002-05:00

Once again, I study this video to distraction and gather meaning from it:

How do you seem to be saying something, while saying nothing at all? Tell the story like a music video. Start with bland words, then match them with with ambivalent, sexy, symbolic visuals. Trust me, it can work. Work the risque but keep it subtle, the way this video does 2:01 into it. It is all, or it is nothing at all. Life is either or both. Every day is better when a marching band is involved. Good editing is a blessing.

This is opera.

Hamm's beer commercial

2012-02-16T20:23:00.000-05:00

I cannot stop watching this commercial for Hamm's beer. I love how it goes on and on, one element cobbled onto the next, until it becomes a piece of pure poetry. At 51 seconds it moves one sublime rung up the ladder of of greatness. This has to have been made by a committee, but it's vision is so unified in its diversity, none of it tasteless.

I think I'll make mine Hamm's from now on. They still made it when I was a kid. There should still me making it now.

Motorcycle Valentine

2012-02-14T17:44:00.000-05:00

Valentine's Day can only mean one thing: a tribute to my true love.

Curvy in all the right places.

Little Ninja 250, thank you for being mine.

The Real Esplanade Avenue, New Orleans, LA

2012-02-13T23:54:00.000-05:00

Our Lady of Prompt Succor.

When people say they live on the sunny side of Esplanade Avenue, they mean they live on either side. The side with even-numbered addresses is as chipper and convivial as the odd-sided one. Esplanade Avenue, running along the panoramic high ground known, locally, as Esplanade Ridge, is the slenderest slice of New Orleans that is a world unto itself. No street in America is named more truly than Esplanade Avenue in New Orleans, Louisiana.

Unlike Saint Charles Avenue, the street both closest to, and furthest away from, Esplanade Avenue’s sensibility, Esplanade Avenue is a street that is made for walking. Its length, between City Park and the Old U.S. Mint, is rarely visited by tourists. If they chose to, they could absorb a few centuries of New Orleaniana in an hour and three quarters. Esplanade Avenue’s economy is based on neighborhood interaction. Its story is self-contained, both part and parcel of the whole city in microcosm.

Saint Charles Avenue is a long, run-on variation on a theme, a tinkling on the ivories. The only people who live on Saint Charles Avenue are the ones who inhabit it. Esplanade Avenue is a self-contained story told in four acts, starting with picturesque introduction and concluding when there is nothing left to say. The people who live on Esplanade Avenue love it. When musicians march on Esplanade Avenue, they play brass and snare. A perfect street stokes platonic passions that sizzle, under the skin, from one august day to the next.

Bisected down its neutral ground, the even-sided half of Esplanade Avenue is the Sixth Ward, and the odd side is the Seventh Ward. The Sixth Ward’s landfill trash, and the household trash meant for recycling, gets picked up at curbside every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. The Seventh Ward puts its trash barrels on the curb every Tuesday, Friday and Saturday. Esplanade Avenue is very picturesque.

Between BMC and Check Point Charlie, rhythm and tympanum compliment each other in contrapuntal harmony.

Fed by the dedicated exit ramp off the Claiborne Avenue Overpass, traffic does not jam on Esplanade Avenue, with its many, patience-inducing traffic lights. Everyone smiles. There is plenty of change to spare along a stretch of road that is as old as the city itself, and older, still, in some places.

Between the statue of the Muse of History and the house that Edgar Degas lived in for five months, where Bayou Road, the oldest street in the city, goes from Treme to the Fairgrounds, where the neutral ground narrows at the jag in the lanes after South Galvez Street, bus lines converge and transfer passengers. Communication and commutation between New Orleans’ distant parts is enhanced and enabled along Esplanade Avenue, where wards converge.

Different flavors, and different shades, as it traces its patched-pothole track, Esplanade Avenue is consistent in its diversity, and surprising in its tranquility. If you can imagine peace on Earth, you can imagine a stroll along Esplanade Avenue. The rat slumbers next to the hen, and eggs are on the breakfast table with red beans and grits, every morning. Children go to school in waves, and they head home, later. Adults wander to and fro, morning and night, on their errands. Conversations unfurl, and connections are made, along Esplanade Avenue.

Between the crumbling high school and the abandoned nursing home, diagonally across from the donut shop, behind the new Rent-a-Center, where a locked, empty church keeps its welcome sign out, business blossoms.

Esplanade Ridge, an unmeasurable, natural wonder of elevated dry land, as majestic as any ineffable, topographic feature, runs somewhat askew of the Crescent City’s curved street grid. Triangular parks scale Esplanade Avenue’s sides as it runs its straight line to end up near Storyland. Great things happen on Esplanade Avenue, but they rarely make the news.

Between two supermarkets that cannot be bothered to compete with each other, and two Spanish restaurants that are as far apart as Minorca and Majorca, a twinkle of whimsy tickles one length of Esplanade Avenue, and one length of Grande Route St. John, and one half of Mystery Street.

Between Saint Louis Cemetery No. 3, and Cabrini High School, devotees of Our Lady of the Rosary pass every day, whether they know it or not.

Esplanade Avenue rolls over Moss Street and crosses Bayou St. John in a soaring arc atop a utilitarian, cast-concrete bridge. The view is breathtaking, as is the traffic circle that loops around itself, with stoplights at each cardinal point. If you ever need to get your bearings, travel the length of Esplanade Avenue from front to back. What you lose in perspective, you will gain in experience.

When Esplanade Avenue ends, it does so with a command. A statue of P.G.T. Beauregard, himself, astride a charger, points his saber to the river,. Any surveyor licensed by the State of Louisiana can plot the course of Esplanade Avenue’s middle by just that saber tip’s angle, alone. Any symbolic instruction is unintentionally implicit. You do not have to graduate from Delgado Community College to learn what lies on the other side of the Storyland Railroad’s tracks.

Behind the stalwart, noble figure of General P.G.T. Beauregard, CSA (ret.)(d.1893), is a nexus of rest, relaxation, rejuvenating exercise, picturesque surroundings, family reunions, amateur sporting events, gardens, benches, trails, lagoons, an art museum, and a golf course. Wars have been fought to preserve civilized life. Fate runs a weighted lottery. New Orleans City Park is many things to many people. Sometimes it all boils down to zoning. If there are nutria, there is raw, spiritual nourishment available for the inhaling. Ducks do not live by breadcrumbs alone, and New Orleans needs a grand City Park. A city that is, itself, a vast testament to vibrant perseverance, should be freckled and speckled with the relics of its permanent past.

To General Beauregard’s bronzed, right flank, the Canal Street streetcar stops its run with no transfer, but for a a bus. The only bell that rings on Esplanade Avenue is the church bell summoning parishioners to mass. Streetcars do not clatter down Esplanade Avenue. It is a street that finds its identity in unhurried modes. The loveliest, most thought-provoking, six, sunny-side miles in New Orleans are down one side of Esplanade Avenue and up the other. A great city’s heart has many arteries to keep its pressure pumping where needed. Some neighborhoods are scabbed over and scarred, and some have undergone cosmetic surgery. Some neighborhoods have a fluttering pulse, while others throb with expanding contractions. Some neighborhoods are husks of empty shotgun shells. Some neighborhoods are empty, still. Some neighborhoods make for a pleasant walk at all times of day and night, at all times of the year.

Esplanade Avenue is alive and well. It is a world both apart from, and, a part of, the rest of New Orleans. There is no more New Orleanian street on the map, or off the radar. Esplanade Avenue makes an impression that will inspire a career track for those who can recognize beauty in its polished rough. A human promenade progresses along Esplanade Avenue. If New Orleans is beautiful, and it certainly is, its essence is distinctly distilled without a trace of stink, in the perfume that lazily wafts along Esplanade Avenue. Time does not stand still. It evolves. A rough oyster shell holds a pearl.

Esplanade Avenue starts at the Mississippi River, as most everything in New Orleans does. It ends in art, as most everything in New Orleans does. There is plenty to see along the way. Every journey is full of distractions and temptations. Every journey is worth taking. If you are lucky enough to walk Esplanade Avenue, you know what it means to have your senses alive. What is life, but experience? What is experience if it does not lead to knowledge? What is knowledge if it does not lead to more questions? There is always more to learn. Lessons are dealt every day along the sidewalks of Esplanade Avenue. Autodidacts, university scholars, and sages wise beyond their credentials find something to savor on Esplanade Avenue.

Moonlight and sunlight, streetlight, and strobe light, in brightest day and blackest night, Esplanade Avenue is welcoming, peaceful, and secure in its community. Pelicans, chickens, and pigeons call it home. So do many, many people who have nowhere else to go between up and down. The length of Esplanade Avenue runs a pleasant gantlet that invites wandering. The destination may be unknown, but there will be a welcome respite at journey’s end.

Adventures in citizenship

2012-02-09T20:19:00.000-05:00

I was getting ready to leave Iggy's, on Rampart Street, when the phone rang. Someone had left their keys behind, and Lyle, the bartender had found them. He asked if anyone was leaving, otherwise he would have sent the keys in a cab to the Bywater neighborhood to deliver them to their owner. I was leaving. Though the Bywater is in the opposite direction of my house, I volunteered. It wasn't too far out of my way on the motorcycle, and I rarely travel down there, so this instantly qualified as a good deed and an adventure.

"Where is he?" I asked. "At Markey's. It's a block uptown from the corner of Desire and Royal Streets," was the answer. I said I could find it, and I took the keys. The whole errand took about twenty minutes out of my way, but it was in my way. It was something I should do.

I went down St. Claude Avenue to Desire. I turned right and crossed Bourbon, Burgundy (pronounced bur-GUN-dee) and Dauphine (doe-FEEN) Streets until I reached Royal. I turned right again and found Markey's Bar, which is a long shotgun building that looks, to my eyes, like it should be condemned. Inside, it was a spotlessly clean showplace that would be a welcome respite for the ruling class in a world-class city, like Indianapolis, or Des Moines, or Chicago. Gritty on the outside, squeaky clean on the inside. The kitchen smelled good, but I had already eaten. I found the keys' owner and delivered them. "Oh, man, they sent you! You didn't have to to this, baby," he said. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asked. I said no. I was headed homeways, which is always bestways.

I would never have gone into the Bywater except for this errand. I discovered this beautiful place, and I passed many that I've ignored in the daylight, but were hopping at night. It was an adventure, and I saw New Orleans in all its pulsing glory. I didn't stop for a drink. I used the restroom, and then left, motorcycling homeways along unfamiliar streets whose names I know well from further uptown.

A good deed is a good adventure. That is what people should do every day. When I got home my wife said I was smiling like a cat who swallowed a canary. I was. I still am. I have been to Markey's.

Buses in New Orleans

2012-02-09T01:09:00.000-05:00

There are no double decker buses in New Orleans. If there were, the rides would be much like this..

Every day and every night is an adventure in New Orleans, Louisiana, a world with rules all its own.