Happy in limbo

I'm listening to Ibrahim Ferrer, in honor of his passing.

Maybe I'm lonely and sex-deprived, but today after spending the morning unpacking I went downtown on the streetcar. I went to the used bookstore on Chartres--they were playing WWOZ on the radio and the UD was broadcasting from the Satchmo fest. Then to Louisiana Music Factory on Decatur, then to the matinee of Happy Endings, which was pretty good. And I was happy to do all that stuff alone. I prefer it. After the movie, I discovered that Miss S had left a message on my phone, and I called back and we made plans to meet up later in the evening. Waiting on the streetcar to come home, an assorted group of guys from the Hot 8, New Birth and various 6th/9th ward brass bands were playing on the corner of Canal and Bourbon. They were good, better than the tourists deserve. The lady who sings gospel on the bus was across the street dancing and testifying. I was happy. It was a good day. I love New Orleans again. I was thinking I have close to the right balance of solitude and socialization in my life--it's just sex that is the problem.

The more immediate problem is that, though I did get mail today, I did not get a check. I have one more week of freedom before the law school festivities start. I would like to spend it goofing off, doing a little shopping, and going out at night. Instead I may spend it at home eating ramen noodles.

By tomorrow I should have the house in order. I'm going to dig out my letters from Lucy Grealy. If I'm at home eating ramen noodles, I'll at least write something to prove that I still can.