Man, I am with Getty. Not literally, but in spirit (Hey, li’l bru!). She’s doing her thing, and I’m happy, all home and hearthy with my son’s return and the doggies and kitties all snug in their beds awaiting this blast of Artic air and wind, balls dropping and stars rising.
My New Year’s came early. I went out to Bastrop’s New Orleans New Year’s this past weekend and joined the wending Second Line that stepped and tapped across Texas’ “Most Historic Small Town.” I’ll blog about it a bit someday. I’ve got some cool shots of the parade, the uplifting choir directed by Hannibal Locumbe, as well as the next night’s concert with Dr. John. I was in the right place, baby.
Tonight, all’s calm. I’m settled in watching Logo, the local news of downtown folderol, and the Saturday Night Live special (would ya just pay the dang TV writers already, ya cheap, squirrely bastards?), with the kid and his guest chilling, playing video games, watching movies.
Tomorrow’s a new day. Slow, slow, sweet. I’ll be packing for a trip to the real New Orleans. It’s a brand new year and the familiar call of that stretch of I-10 beacons; I can’t help but heed her once again.
To all you Gay Place readers, to all the friends and loved ones met, loved, lost, remembered, treasured, cherished: Thank you for 2007.
Here’s to a Grrr8 2008!
This article appears in December 28 • 2007.