(no subject)
well returning to the daily grind after days and nights of debauchery is difficult. I am back in the real world, grinding. New Orleans is a fine town that can indulge any vice. We drank on the streets; saw old boobies and young boobies; gambled (and won forty dollars- chris and Dan lost 75 each). We ate fine cajun food: crawfish, gumbo, jambalaya, catfish po' boys, and some of the biggest oysters I have ever seen. We drank and smoked ourselves reatrded. We ruled the cable cars up and down Canal Street. We walked into the ghetto (although everywhere was the ghetto). We talked to transiants and squatters, beggars and street performers. We listened to fine gone jazz on Bourbon Street. We went on a swamp tour with real fucking cant-understand-them-when-they-talk cajuns. Dan put a huge hole in the wall of our hotel room. Chris bought cocaine from some sketchy black dude on some dark side street of the French Quarter. we lived and had a fucking blast. Now, we are left with memories and limited braincells...and Frichael has some pictures of boobies on his cell phone. werd up.