Peniche

Right after I got to work this morning I went to look out one of the building's east-facing windows. I work on the tenth floor, and the building I work in is in the far western part of New Orleans - well into Jefferson Parish, actually.

What strikes you first about a view like that is how flat it is. From left to right and straight ahead you can see as far as your eyes can penetrate the persistent heat-haze that hangs in the air. High-rises and radio towers are dotted here and there. Both bridges arch gracefully across the river. The river itself is obscured by the derricks and cranes of the wharves.

There are a lot of trees, too. Once clear of the suburban sprawl where I work it seems like a solid carpet of green takes over, interrupted occasionally by signs of civilization.

And straight ahead and a little to the right of the red-rising sun is the Central Business District, its skyscrapers and domed arenas floating above the haze and trees like it's motherfuckin' Oz.

Okay, the topic is TV Shows I Don't Know If I Dreamed Or If They Actually Exist. What I want to know is, do you remember these shows too?

Do you remember an animated version of the Partridge Family (I kid you not), set in the science-fiction future? It was like the Partridge Family was on The Jetsons. It was really bad. Yes, they sang a song in every episode. I watched it in the afternoons, after school, so it might have done a stint on Saturday morning TV at some point, too.
Now this one I know is real; I remember liking it a lot back in the late seventies/early eighties. I just can't remember the name or anyone who was in it. Picture this: an old man and his two employees own a salvage yard. No, not Sanford and Son. Anyway, the old man and his two employees (one male, one female; there was a certain sexual tension there) build a rocket ship out of the junk in their salvage yard and take it to the moon. In subsequent episodes they would fly around the world in their rocket, having adventures. Surprisingly, I don't think this was a kid's show - I think it was on in prime time.

Any clues, y'all? That's the kind of shit TV Land won't touch, I guess.

I am about to vomit with excitement about the football game I'm going to Sunday. I'm hyped.

A story on the BBC World Service today talked about Kenya and Uganda leaving one African trading alliance and joining another one. A question they failed to answer in this report, though, was whether or not anyone gives a shit.

Not much going on this weekend, except for the game. It's another three day weekend, which I am getting to really like. I have another one next weekend, too. Mondays are useless and I refuse to participate in them any more.

I may go to an old-man barbershop down Magazine tomorrow and get a haircut. I went to an old-man barbershop the whole time I was growing up, in high school and again in college for a while. Finally, though, it got to where no matter what I told the barber he'd cut my hair the way he wanted to, ignoring my requests completely. This led me down the slippery slope to female beauticians, then gay stylists and, finally, to communism.

And I'm going to go to the library tomorrow, too. Though I don't have a Louisiana driver's license so I don't know if they'll let me have any books or not. I'll take my check book and some bills or something. The branch library in my neighborhood is in an old mansion on Saint Charles. I'm looking forward to getting inside and poking around.

Written Saturday

I didn't go to the library. I didn't get a haircut. It's just too damned hot to be outside, fuckin' around.

Though the Wife and I did get out this morning to go to breakfast at La Peniche. It's a cool little place in the Faubourg Marigny, just outside the French Quarter. The food is very good, and they were packed with people in town for Southern Decadence. Rainbow flags were flying everywhere.

It's funny how we found out about La Peniche. We were down here for Mardi Gras in '98 - me, Sonya, Jen, Angie and Donna. Here, here's another story from that same trip. Anyway, it was just past midnight, officially Fat Tuesday, and we'd left the Orpheus parade a while before. We were walking down Decatur and trying to figure out where to eat.

We first stopped at Checkpoint Charlie's and talked to the bouncer. He said their kitchen was backed up, and recommended we go to La Peniche. He just couldn't remember where it was.

"Go up this way," he said, pointing, "and go right after about, oh, two blocks. Then ask someone. Everybody knows where it is."

So we went that way and turned right. After a while we asked someone.

"Um, I'm not sure exactly," he mused in a French accent, "but you can keep going this way," he pointed the way we were walking, "and take a left. It's around there somewhere."

We followed his directions, which took us through a pagan drum-circle fire ceremony thing, complete with a three-headed foam dragon with an enormous phallus. We found a guy putting his guitar in his car and asked him.

"Man, I don't know," he scratched his head, "but I think you take a right here and it's a couple blocks down on the left."

And it was. We ate our late-night dinner and laughed at the goose-chase we'd been on. They do have good food, though.

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