Bike Riding

It's been awhile since I posted.

I'm staying with new friends in New Orleans. They are a delightfully eccentric young couple with hearts of gold whose generosity affords me comfortable shelter and, last Friday, some excellent eating. Today, they offered the use of the computer that sits in "my" room.

Hearts of Space is weaving good music medicine on the radio. My guitar lies in its case at the foot of the bed. Returned to me this afternoon from one of three places where my stuff is temporarily stored around the city. My contentment couldn't be greater tonight.

The piano is still in the French Quarter. I haven't missed it once today.

Then again, today was an unusual day: at 4 am I was lying on a couch in Long Beach MS wondering if I could pack up and get out of there without waking my sleeping hosts or their large dog. I succeeded and was cruising down I-10, watching the full moon set over New Orleans by 6 am. By 10 I was moping over the classifieds in the Sunday Times Picayune--looking for an apartment and slowly realizing I'll probably have to earn two paychecks before I can rent my own place...

At noon all I wanted was a nap after getting up before dawn two days in a row. But the weather has been luscious for a couple of days and going out seemed a better idea. So I did: a poetry reading up at City Park, a stop at Rouse grocery way up on Carrollton, a conversation with a friend sitting on the grass at Tulane...

...and back "home." Where I didn't miss my piano. Or open my guitar case. I sat down to write to you. To me. To write.

I felt a little rusty at first. I couldn't remember "how" to blog.

Apparently it came back to me.