flying into Louis Armstrong airport, engine revved of good times ahead
hello nola, hello dolly
long music-laden nights, days of urban exploration
New Orleans has some fascinating old cemeteries I’m just dying to visit
houses of voodoo and black magic
must remember to pace myself tonight
there’s a lot of bars I wanna hit, a lot of notes to be heard
it was a hot, airless night, but I didn’t care…
I was on Bourbon Street listening to cool jazz, hot jazz, fusion jazz
I don’t know what it is jazz, dixieland, cover bands
so much music, so little time
I wish Al Hirt and Pete Fountain were still around
either the night ended or the morning began, I”m not sure
********zzzzzzz
drinking copious amounts of coffee this morning in quaint french quarter coffee houses
in an attempt to revive myself////tired, so tired
I look so poor, the panhandlers leave me alone
the ancient gnarled trees draping themselves over Lake Pontchartrain;
witness to much I’m sure
stayin’ out of the infamous bayou I’ve heard so much about
might go in and not come out
trolley car back to bourbon the liquor will flow
another night of jazz under the stars and in the bars
all good things must come to an end and so it did
on a blurry rain splattered evening in the Old Absinthe House
I don’t want to go home, but it will be nice to get there
traveling is fun, but it’s always relaxing to lay in your own messed up bed again
