Majoria's Commerce Restaurant.

I want to write a review of Majoria’s Commerce Restaurant, where Mrs. King and I have had lunch for two days in a row, but, before I can concentrate on that, I need to get the story of last night out of my system. The Nick Lobo saga has taken a turn.

Like Nixon in 1968, I was tanned, rested, and ready.

I hung out for an hour at Pal’s Lounge. There was no sign of Mr. Lobo. It may have had something to do with the river being low. Navigation is tricky right now.

Lobo was a no-show. Life is full of predictable, small disappointments. I am only half-disappointed. I have nothing else to do. This can drag on forever until I lose interest.

I live in New Orleans time. I spend a lot of time waiting for things to happen. Showing up is often a waste of time, but, when the stars are aligned, it can be magic beyond compare.

I talked about Mr. Lobo for the hour and a half with other people who were not Mr. Lobo, while I was cooling my heels at Pal’s Lounge. He is not only a poet. He also writes songs. He sings them to his muses, accompanied by the accordion. He is not allowed to bring his accordion to Pal’s Lounge. He does this if he can get a girl to his apartment. He is a real Romeo, apparently.

After two hours, it was way, way past my bedtime. There was no whiff of Nick Lobo to be sniffed. This trail was cold, another damp squib of an idea. I headed homeways, all shagged and fagged and dragged out.

I credit my breakfast at Majoria’s Commerce Restaurant at the start of yesterday for getting me through the night. When I woke up this morning, I had a hankering for more of yesterday. Yesterday was that kind of day. It usually is.

If I could put time in a bottle, I would sell under the “CBB” label.

To understand what I mean, you should get a paid subscription. I am going to talk about Majoria’s Commerce Restaurant, the place so nice that I had to visit twice.