Wherever he laid his hat was his home.
I moved again. To keep you updated, I stayed with Waffle and Diane when I first got to New Orleans, went to live in a crack house, where I was woken up my US Marshals at 5 am. I then moved back to Waffle's where I wore my welcome thin, now I have found a third place here in NOLA. Algiers actually, it's across the river on the West Bank.
Literally at the foot of the bridge. I have to drive around the bridge footings to my street. It's quiet enough with the traffic a couple of hundred feet or so overhead. Decent diverse neighborhood, dead end street with an above ground cemetery one house away. In New Orleans the cemeteries are famous, due to the high water tables all are buried in mausoleums. I've seen tours of these being given. I always think of the acid trip scene from EASY RIDER when I look at them. Maybe this summer if I get the chance.
I found on Craigslist this house. I still got the room after they had read this blog. I won't go into many details, in order to continue living here. I am certain that there is no crack or crystal meth being manufactured or consumed on the premises . Which is a plus. Affordable, safe with an artist commune feel. The word spacious doesn't accurately describe my quarters, unless we are comparing it to submarine duty. In which case I live like an officer. I can hear boat horns on the Mississippi about three hundred yards from here. Mark Twain meets Dennis Hopper.