Blackmail.
Yesterday, three loudmouths were yammering away next to me. They made it hard to think straight. As I was leaving, Python Lady looked up from her crossword puzzle. “I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did,” Python Lady said.
Busy week ahead. Not today but the other two days. I am having lunch with an old friend at an undisclosed location tomorrow, then, I will be cutting across town to visit the A-Team with Vincent. Then, on Friday, I am having lunch with Ed about podcast business, among other things. More to follow in the fullness of time.
Life is more than a flurry of keystrokes, misspellings, and odd grammar. Sometimes, we have to live a little. As I think I have mentioned, life in New Orleans is not following a coherent narrative structure. It does not have to make sense, it only has to be.
Much of my days consist of me sitting around waiting for people to show up. I am not the only one who exists this way. In the afternoon demimonde there are habitual stragglers and layabouts and ne’er-do-wells aplenty, all of them sitting around waiting for the next thing to happen.
I was talking to Consuela the other day and she observed that I must live an odd life sharing my innermost thoughts with the world. Do not be fooled. Much of this is padding and special effects. I am merely a character in the grand sweep of history. This is New Orleans’ story, not mine.
Let us go behind the curtain, shall we? I would like to talk to paid subscribers about a blackmail scheme that sounds too good to be true.
No tickee, no shirtee.