Finally made it to my old neighborhood the other day. Life was good over there. Fun times living at The Compound. I have friends from San Francisco in town and I'm trying to show them as much of the city as I can, which is great, because I'm in the process of rediscovering the city myself. I really haven't been back very long.
My former hood looks great, all the good stuff is still there, and now there's all kinds of new stuff to sort through. I'm hugely pissed that the St. James Cheese Company didn't open until after I left. If the St. James Cheese Company was three tiny New Orleans blocks away from my house when I lived there, I might never have left in the first place. Lots of other cool stuff too. I saw a sign outside of some new place on Magazine St. that said "boudin meatloaf."
What? Boudin meatloaf?
I should have stopped. Why the fuck didn't I stop? When will I learn that my greatest regrets are always the things I didn't do? I'm still kicking myself for not buying that jacket at that thrift store up the street eight years ago. It was twenty bucks! What the fuck was I thinking?!
Of course I went to see my old place. My former landlord owned all the houses on the block. I was surprised to see that they were being painted. I didn't even recognize mine, it was quite unsettling. I'm really hoping that it's primer I saw and not the final color. Because if it is, it's hideous. I was thrilled to see that my sticker hadn't been removed from the window, although the bastards got paint all over the bottom:
I'll bring something to scrape it off with next time I'm in the area. Who dat!