flipping through my journal last night, i found this excerpt from audacity of hope that i jotted down when i read the book a couple summers ago. our president, the romantic.
"eventually i wore her down. after a firm picnic, she drove me back to my apartment, and i offered to buy her an ice cream cone at the baskin-robbins across the street. we sat on the curb and ate our cones in the sticky afternoon heat, and i told her about working at baskin-robbins when i was a teenager and how it was hard to look cool in a brown apron and cap. she told me that for a span of two or three years as a child, she had refused to eat anything except peanut butter and jelly. i said that i'd like to meet her family. she said she would like that.
i asker her if i could kiss her. it tasted of chocolate.
we spent the rest of the summer together. i told her about organizing, and living in indonesia, and what it was like to bodysurf. she told me about her childhood friends, and a trip to paris she'd taken in high school, and her favorite stevie wonder songs."
our last evening in the big easy. if there is anything i learned in the few days visiting, it's that this city lives and breathes music. we're still amused by how saturday night started with soothing folk music, went to a lively new orleans jazz ensemble and ended up at a reggae band dance party. and this all happened barhopping from one side of frenchmen street to the other.
we needed one last nola-style live music fix before heading back to california.
we head down toulouse, past bourbon in an effort to flag down a cab. indie music artist toro y moi walks by going the direction we have just come from. after he passes, we look at each other and laugh knowing that frances interviewed him last year before he became "big" and landed on the line-ups for sxsw and outside lands.
we see cabs passing by down other streets, but it takes a while before one comes to the corner where we decide to wait. finally, a cab slowly approaches and the three of us climb into the backseat.
frenchmen street, please.
it is quiet as he turns the car around and pauses to let other cars pass.
look how nice i am. i let everybody go ahead.
we smile at his odd opening line. i try to make conversation.
busy tonight?
monday night is probably the slowest night in new orleans.
he flips on the radio and turns left onto decatur street. a DJ is recapping songs recently played.
ooh wheee! "two years of torture." that song has to be about a relationship! have you ever been in love? if you have, you'd know it's torture. you know the comedian christopher titus?
he had a tv show, right?
yea, a long time ago. anyway, in one of his stand-up acts he says something along the lines of "if you've never considered murder, you've never been married. if you've never considered suicide, you've never been divorced." HA! ain't that the truth?
he gets distracted because we have arrived at our destination and his pack of cigarettes has fallen behind his seat.
right here is fine.
frenchmen street. you've got the whole strip ahead of you.
we pay and get out of the cab. as i'm shutting the door, i try to leave him with a final word.
thanks and don't torture yourself!
oh well, you know...being in a relationship is torture...but being alone is torture too!
