The Natchez Paddleboat at Sunrise

This was one of the first “good” shots I ever got, when I first moved here. It was dumb luck that I went out early that morning, before sunrise, and the Natchez was docked in the right place, at the right time, with the sun rising behind it and fog on the water. I’ve tried several times since then to go out there and grab a shot with my better camera, now that I know a little more about what I am doing (one hopes), but so far, I’ve run into an amazing number of obstacles. Fog down on the water isn’t that common, and the last time I managed to get over there on a foggy morning, there was some sort of 5K run on the RiverWalk, and the organizers had the Natchez completely roped off where I couldn’t get the shot without the orange cones and runners in the photo. Good lesson for grabbing what you can with whatever equipment you have handy.

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Cafe Beignet on Royal St. in the French Quarter

One of my favorite places to eat, when I first moved to the Quarter, was Cafe Beignet. Same beignets as Café DuMonde, but many many other choices (including some great omelets). It’s rare to pass by when there’s no line, but I think I caught this about 1:30 in the afternoon; they normally close around two. Excellent place to eat if you’re visiting.



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too damned busy

There’ve been more trips back and forth to Baton Rouge in the last two weeks than I’ve done in my entire life. I’m exhausted (and sick), but hopefully, here for a couple of weeks without interruption. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, there’s been no more chances to shoot anything since the last shoot, and no time to photoshop stuff, which is disappointing. The whole idea here was for me to write and do photography and I’ve done neither. Baby sat the kidlet for about eight days total (another reason I’m worn out). Three-year-olds should be harnessed for energy and we’d never do without. I know I’m not original in that opinion, but geez.

Found out last night the other kid is going to have a kid of his own. Much joy and exclamation ensued. I have no doubt they’ll do fine, but he’s fairly terrified. It’s going to be hysterical watching that.

I’m fighting internet problems on top of everything else. They’ve been out to fix it and discovered something else major which was affecting us, so they’re getting it fixed (I think). I’m supposed to have a new superfast modem on Monday. I’ll believe that when I see it.

Meanwhile, the other night, I wrote this. A poem, I suppose, though in this day, nearly every Twitter stream is a realm of poetry, so who knows what counts anymore.



There’s a man

beneath our

third floor window

who is cursing

out someone or

something—it doesn’t seem

to make that much of a difference to him

as he’s switched subjects several

times now. I have to credit

him with a prodigious

use of fuck, though

he’s not had much


with it. I somehow think

one should expect more

of someone who decides

to curse so volubly,

so publicly.

At least

entertain us: this is the French Quarter.

His cursing has


blotted out the strains of a

Billy Joel song

sung by a guy who’s

got a great voice for it,

some two

blocks away.

I think this may

be the twenty-seventh time I’ve

heard this set.

The bikers who

regularly rule

the bar below roar into

their parking spots

and a minute

later, I notice the

cursing man

is gone.

Probably not entirely


Now I can hear

the next song in the

line up, clear as a gong,

as if that

singer were right below my


I miss the cursing man.

I used to really like Billy Joel.


Ate beignets this morning, intending to rush in and consume and then head out for photos. I thought if I hit the little cafe about 8:30, I’d still be ahead of the tourists, but no such luck. (Although I beat the worst of the crowd. By 9:30, the line was out the door an down the sidewalk.) I’ll have to go earlier next time.