And Elsewhere, Mardi Gras.

Beginnings, endings and the in-betweens. The stories you can tell over coffee and beignets. 

Abita Amber and blackened alligator. When in Louisiana... 

(“New Orleans food is as delicious as the less criminal forms of sin.”  said Mark Twain. 

An understatement if there ever was one.)

Cajun martinis in The Big Easy. Spicy, perfect. 

There's a song written about it somewhere, of that am certain.

First comes booze, then come Blues.

And when you are finally ready to say Good Night, you know it was.

The Reluctant Romantic

Am just back from a trip to New Orleans and have Blues on my mind. But then, when do I not? 

P.S: Has the nonsense of Valentine's been sufficiently put behind? Okay good, now take a listen.

While I have you here, pour me a drink, will you?

It's only been a week and, am not putting away my party hat just yet.

Half-finished books. Pages filled with words half-formed. Tarts that once stood witness to flailing diets, their obituaries now written on discarded foil. Ashtrays that know once the night falls, they'll have company to keep.

Vows to say Love You more and make passionate declarations less, settle with the ice in the glass. Dusty scrapbooks and dustier images to resurrect. Along with rusty memories to only bite the dust. With scary, speedy efficiency.

Old ways, familiar patterns and white lies. Because in the end, it's all much too easy.

What Resolution? Here's to a garishly shiny, spanking new year. New Year!

And you thought I was only Grey.

Who's afraid of a lil' color?!

Layovers. And The Stiff Drink One Needs.

It was a tune he played often. Many times a day, and it always earned him the biggest tips.

She while racking up the miles and nursing a heartache, always looked forward to a delay. Hoping.

Between the coins in the tip-jar and loud announcements, it was easy to miss the star-crossed lovers. Forgiven even.