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Starfucking w/ Cookie: Mardi Gras
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While Rose whoring book, me brave cold to watch Krewe de Vieux parade. It not traditionally me favorite parade. Me not big fan of satire. Still, me get to kiss many bitches. Me not sure how but me get virus. Me spend four days coughing up blue phlegm and watching Olympics. Me lose ass taking short odds on Sasha Cohen. Me convinced she have long program in bag.
*
It seem everyone getting chance to cash in. Bruce Rutledge come all the way from Seattle to push anthology called “Do You Know What It Mean to Miss New Orleans?” Where he come up with title? Me run into Bruce and brother David at book party at Saturn Bar. Difference between Seattle and New Orleans exemplified in brothers.
Event hosted by Press Street, local outfit run by Ken Foster and NOCCA bitch Ann Gisleson. It good to see Ann with child, and it relief to be assured it not mine. Sister Susan Gisleson in attendance as well. Me try to get special moment with her, but Ken Foster get involved. Ken have new book out called “Dogs Who Found Me.” It about stray dogs nuzzling author at rest stops. Title remind me of last time me at Saturn bar, sharing bottle of Jameson with Nic Cage and entourage of bitches. Me last memory of O’Neil Broyard him punting me onto neutral ground. Soon after Cage win Oscar. He not talk to me since.
Speaking of Oscars, me can’t be only one to lose ass betting on “Brokeback Mountain.” Fortunately, Phillip Seymour Hoffman help me recoup. Me not see “Crash,” but me suspect it about NOLAFugees computer.
Waiting for beer between readings me talk to New Orleans Review Editor Chris Chambers. He promise big plug for NOLAFugees in upcoming issue. Me hope me get mention. It time to parlay gig into cash. Me suggest selling bound collection of “Starfucking” columns. Me feel interest out there.
As book party wind down me run into witty musician Alex McMurray. Alex tell me he give up New York life to return to Apocalypse. Me pleased with prospect of future Circle Bar gigs. Where McMurray play, drunk bitches sure to follow.
*
Me suffer relapse and miss Mardi Gras weekend parades. So sick me suffer hallucinations. Me have crazed vision of NOLAFugees earning revenue. It take many hours to come to senses.
Me still weak Mardi Gras morning, but luckily me find perfect medication mix to get me through day. Everything a haze to me now, but me remember touching monkey of internationally acclaimed author on me way to Treme for celebration at Backstreet Cultural Museum. Me run into old friends John Sinclair and painter Willie Birch. Sinclair and me go back to the Detroit Artist Workshop days before me jump to New York City. He want to make me honorary White Panther. Me honored, but me tell him me only loyal to Blue.
DJ Davis Rogan corner me later with secrets about hobnobbing in Manhattan negotiating big payday for prose. Then he promote show at Little Peoples’ Place in Treme. Editors at NOLAFugees can learn much from Davis’ promotional tenacity.
*
Many pills later, me hang at Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop to revel in procession of bitches. Southern Belles, Hotlanta sistas. Me even have stalker bitch. She want to be me bride.
After sunset me end up in Frenchmen Street loft of stylish bartendress with all the Champagne me can drink. Me remember thinking as me lie in bed waiting for bitch to return that me, too, will cash in.
Or maybe it another hallucination. Me have no photographic evidence.
Me not know what happened, but me wake next morning in NOLAFugees office. Pills wear off. Regret ensues. Me beg for Lenten Cleansing.
Cookie covers society for NOLAFugees.com
photos NOLAFugees.com staff, except Chris Rose (TP) & Sasha Cohen.
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