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908 Esplanade
January 28th, 2006I am now living at 908 Esplanade Ave, New Orleans, LA. That is in the French Quarter, on the street that divides the French Quarter and the Marigny triangle. I’m crawling distance from Frenchman St in the Marigny and Decatur St in the Lower Quarter.
I’m living the slave quarters. My apartment overlooks a courtyard with a pool. Two trees had fallen into the pool, and took down a wall in the courtyard. The pool is now covered. The bricks for the wall stacked about.
It’s a dodgy place. The stove is especially grotty. I’m telling people that I hope the Queer Eye guys will stop by and remove the asbestos.
I’m hoping that as the apartment repopulates, that the tenants will not be pure Quarter rats. This place needs attention.
Update: Sounds of 908 Esplanade
I’m waiting on my laundry. I’ve opened the french doors in my second room, to allow for a cool breeze and the neighoring condo’s Wifi. The breeze is shaking the trees so that the leaves rustle. In the background someone is playing a trumpet, futher behind is the rest of the band, a hear a clarinet. There are church bells ringing, playing their own tune.
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Comments 
So, you’re staying. Welcome back!
The Have To Go Back Home To NOLA depression is setting in really badly. It’s a matter of weeks now, but these days are the hardest.
Here’s to your (relatively) new place!
Maitri
I’ve written elsewhere, that when I lived in Ann Arbor for five years, I’d come to the conclusion that all I wanted from life was ten minutes a week, where I would experience a sense of contentment. Ten minutes. That’s all. For ten minutes I’d like everything to be okay.
Then I thought, you know, they don’t have to be consecutive. I could keep a stop watch and notebook.
This occured to me, a week back into Ann Arbor in 2004, when I would sense the beginnings of depressive bouts, the onset of Winter. I recalled this and realized how miserable I’d been in Ann Arbor for most of my young adulthood. That would only make me more depressed and regretful.
It’s amazing, all that I’ve been through this month, how consistantly happy I am. I’m running the gambit from chill to exhuberant.
At times there is no money. At times there is no place to stay. The foundation of the heirarchy of needs, and still, it’s all going to sort itself out somehow. Ask.
It’s simply not true that all environments are equal. It is not true that our happiness is entirely our own fabrication.
That is only true for those who do not interact with their environment. In the world of strip-malls and franchise dining, these people, with their mild autism, are morally superior, to those of us who still long for atmosphere.
Not that this is without adjustment on my part.
Learning to live without boundries. It means, at time, having to be a Prima Donna. Throw a tantrum. Nothing else you can do. People get so damn close. The corollary is that the odd freak out is something you leave unaddressed ’til the sun rises.
I’d like to have this conversation. The Win/Win, Seven Habits crowd I fell in with in Birmingham (Michigan) used to like to say that you can choose your own reaction. There were lemonade makers, one and all. This always drove me mad, living in the Northern suburbs of Detroit. How are you able to extract contentment from North Woodward? Is it materialism as they say?
What’s the trick? If you tell me, once again, that the trick is that happiness comes from withing, do you mind if I tell you that you’re absurd? All that comes out of me is a seasonally enduced chemical imballance.
Can you accept that it’s simply easier for me to live hand to mouth in New Orleans, than comfortably yet without stimulus in West Bloomfield?
Your place sounds delightful. I was thinking it would be nice to come for the Tennessee Williams Festival on the first weekend of April; I’ve always wanted to, but the sheer expense of the thing puts me off. Unfortunately, I think I will be up in northern Michigan that weekend.
You seem like you’re probably right near Port of Call and DBA. Do you know if those fine establishments are still functioning?
I had a Harp at D.B.A. tonight with a friend of mine, Heidi Hayns, who’s been organizing roommate meetups there. It’s an interesting application of digital paralllels to analog social networks. She advertises on Craig’s List. It was just us, but meetings prior were quite busy.
Port of Call is still crawling with tourists, spilling out onto the sidewalk, just down the block. Best to get there before six, or go on a Monday or Tuesday. I can smell their grill when I come home. It’s awesome.
Coop’s is open, if you’ve ever been, on Decatur. They have my favorite gumbo in the Quarter.
You can get a pretty good run down from John Gregory’s publication, The Quarter Crawl. Most Quarter business are up and running, as are businesses going out to the Upper 9th Ward.
The Treme and Mid-City are struggling, but the Sliver by the River is coming back alright.