Interlude 1: New Orleans

Autor: Daniel Hromada | 17.7.2009 o 16:55 | Karma článku: 1,42 | Prečítané:  1425x

  From the bar to bar I go. Here the cute barman puts a two aromatized shots between her barely covered breasts, take my head and drives it to the glass before I'm even able to say no. She smells sweat, she smells woman. Hup&hop down the aesophagus and into the stomach that wicked liquid goes, hup&hop and a 6 dollar loss. From the bar to bar i go – here the cute barman and there an older lady throwing a « regard dans ma direction, le regard plein de volupte ». Beer and juice on Bourbon street, a visit to Frenchmen street, tea in russian-styled Pravda cafe at three o'clock in the morning and back to the Bourbon again – let the time pass 'cause the train leaves in the morning and I don't want to pay for the hotel.

15/07 NOON: New Orleans is the city of « debauche ». I don't find any english word which would better describe what was going on there yesterday evening, this evening, without any doubt ANY evening. Or maybe I could use a word « filthy » ? No no no, that's too negative, too much of moralism, obscenity, inpurity in it – no, no, no, N.O. doesn't deserve such an adjective.

Because it's a beautiful city. In fact I think it's the nicest city I have visited yet here in US. French influence, « cet ambiance de l'élegance rafiné » emanates from many buildings, parks and statues. But this atmosphere is heaten by the flames of Texas and Gulf of Mexico, humified by Mississippi , a melting pot where archetype of negro king performs in a company of a native indian some weird voodoo ritual to get the white guy finally on their side.

And from this humid heat, from this melange of bloods raised Bourbon street. Bar, bordel, bar, bordel, bar. Later in the morning when the sun was slowly getting above the horizon I was wandering around, trying not to step into the horse shit, power-law distributed on the floor. I was asking myself « What the fuck, what the fuck was and IS going on here? », just neon light Larry Flint's Honey Hustlers giving me a partial answer.

But many things happened until I got there. I left the station in the company of Daniel&Diana, one of the most beautiful couples I have ever luck to meet during my voyages; with the help of their sympa cab driver they initiated me into the city. Afterwards – solitude again. Solitude of a man who crosses the parks, flee markets and shops, solitude of a man who wants to peacufully smoke weed on a riverbank but cannot because there are so many people around and the drunk dreadlocked poverty and hunger broken afrorigined guy cease not to harrass everyone around with cocky skincolor remarks.

Thus I took a ferry to the other side, a place called Algiers. Free was the entrance to ferry and free was I once I got on the other side. Fill a pipe, light the lighter, thank God. Thank God by by breathing, by writing, even by drawing I tried to express the gratitude for that TomSawyerien moment, there, near that mighty halfbrownhalfgreen liquid flux.

Knowing that never I'll be able to draw I closed the « cahier » , walking around and taking the photos of my teddy, I notice something called « village » after a while. A girl in beautiful white clothes welcomes me, an errection surely follows – but luckily there are no Werner vonBraun's rockets « screaming accross the sky » in this part of the universe, Mr. Slotrhop de Pynchon. Just a pure simple humanimalian erection which is subsequently hidden by an escape to local bar where I for a first time pick up the cash from an american ATM.

Drink a Budweiser – what a horrible beer, ask bargirls to pose with teddy – they put him on their chest, tickling him, teasing him, thus annoncing that that small little monster will have more luck, more appeasement of his tactile appetitus during that night than some guys have during whole their lives.

No no no mr. VonBraun not again Your rockets pleeeeeease, not in this bar, I leave swiftly back to « the Village ». Whiteclothed fairy still there with some two other sympa guys, they explain me history of the place. Well done, folks, well done, Mistress of Voodoo-Moodoo, responsiblee for it all. I drink beer, whiteclothed fairy leaves, suddenly I'm alone with my pipe and my teddy.

But not for a longtime, a duo approaches. MonDieu that clown scared me like hell, while the other guy reminds me of good old pirate folks with whom You can laugh and have a good time but suddenly it can happen that You just find Yourself with a knife in Your throat...But no, no, no, Daniel, don't be paranoid, don't forget, the world is a conspiracy, a conspiracy for Your good as well as the good of others, thou shalt not kill and thus -according to the law of karma which in general applies so well but whose exceptions make us so sad– and thus thou shalt not be killed

Weed solves it all, barrieres tumbling down like the walls of Jericho, a joint circulates. I invite them for a beer in the bar i visited while ago, maybe those barladies would deserve a shot by vonBraun's rocket in the end. But no, they don't, some temporal release of sperm is not nor never will (but never say never!) be worth the beauty offered by the fidelity of and to my beloved. We finish the beer , I pay it, thus paying my karmic debt to dear clown and his compagnion for the set of photos they made with teddy.

Teddy, teddy, where the fck are You? I asked myself while entering the ferry. Hop&trop under the bar he is, to the bar he was called, in the bar he rested and hence I missed my ferry. I take the other one, being sufficiently warned that over there, on the other side back in the downtown New Orleans, a danger can await by a hand of those broken few years ago by a mighty force of Hurricane

I seek the shower, I don't find any. Maybe there would be some, but most probably such a shower service would include other services as well, and I don't need such services. Ok, ok, I lie – of course my body-I needs such services but my mental-I commands: « Idiot! Stop such thoughts. a) it costs a lot of money b) there is a lady which trusts You somewhere there, on the other side of the world ».

The body-mind fight continues.

From the bar to bar I go. Here the cute barman puts a two aromatized shots between her barely covered breasts, take my head and drives it to the glass before I'm even able to say no. She smells sweat, she smells woman. Hup&hop down the aesophagus and into the stomach that wicked liquid goes, hup&hop and a 6 dollar loss. From the bar to bar i go – here the cute barman and there an older lady throwing a « regard dans ma direction, le regard plein de volupte ». Beer and juice on Bourbon street, a visit to Frenchmen street, tea in russian-styled Pravda cafe at three o'clock in the morning and back to the Bourbon again – let the time pass 'cause the train leaves in the morning and I don't want to pay for the hotel.

Then I enter some kind of disco. I pay small entrance, just to find out that this is more homo then hetero kind of disco. Luckily, female homos prevaile. I close my eyes and dance – dance – the ultime purification, dance, the highest unification. Few metres from me 2 beautiful girls, one brownhaired one blondhaired kiss each other, some other guy joining them from time to time.

I get down and sit in front of that wicked institution. A drunk 19year old Britney geology student starts speaking with me... The group of her friends gets into movement, I join them. The hot brownhaired from preceding paragraph is with them, the guy who took part in the described trio holds her hand. I tell him that he's the luckiest guy of the soiree...

...somehow it all ended-up by his invitation to three-some and the girl, Megan, after asking me for a permission to call me « Francois » adds that with that accent of mine any lady which I see would gladly and « sans moindre hesitation » offer her little secret to me. « Francois, Francois » her voice echoes, her eyes approaching me, asking me something, something I want to give so much -ooh yes this vonBraun rocket could quite well be an intercontinental one - but I order myself not to give it. For do I still need to unveil those small little secrets, to unbutton those butterflies, do I need that threesome, do i need to be initiated into yet other form of innocence loss, do I need to feel responsibility for a new heart broken when I see how little a touch suffices to achieve it ?

No is the answer for that moment and for that night and thus that brown hot girlkissing Megane from Louisiana (or Texas) disappears, half-mad half-sad neurons most probably still firing that eternal « Francois » into the void of her consciousness. No shower, no licking tonight, no is the answer for that night, thus is ordained for You young man...for that woman, for that night.

Morning is approaching the Bourbon street, almost all bars are closed, only few hustler places still attracting last lost sailors, « come honey » two afro ladies (one of them most probably a man) call me to their nest. Away are the days when I'd say yes, «loin est l'ignorance de la jeunnesse ».

I succeeded: No was my answer to You, ladies from Bourbon street.

Just behind the corner I found last bar opened, called The Dungeon. Another fairy-like being behind the bar, chest nicely tattooed, face piercinged – how much she remainds me of dear Sasha from Bratislava's subclub. I order a grapefruit juice, show her some teddy-photos. All the other clients left, she turns off the music. We chat – about my travels, about food and vegetarianism, about her and her boyfriend's dreams: once when they'll earn sufficiently enough money they will leave that city.

And that's what I do: With the first rays of sunlight, I saluted piercinged Kristine with a greeting à la army-officer and with the sun rising and raising New Orleans once again from obscurity of night into security of light, I left that city...

Dieu la protege.

 

 

Páčil sa Vám tento článok? Pridajte si blogera medzi obľúbených a my Vám pošleme email keď napíše ďalší článok
Pridaj k obľúbeným

Hlavné správy

EKONOMIKA

Kedy dostanete 13. a 14. plat? Fico podporil Dankov návrh

Koalícia sa zrejme dohodne na úľavách.

PLUS

Školákov učí jesť zdravo. Bez cukru či bielej múky

Niekdajší šéfkuchár v hoteli je teraz vedúcim školskej jedálne.

KOMENTÁRE

Kresťanstvo stojí v otázke homosexuality na križovatke

Neudržateľnou sa stala argumentácia Bibliou.


Už ste čítali?