I'm in New Orleans right now. I came in for a family wedding, to visit Sweetheart before I snap in half from lack of sex, and to take a break from the apartment from hell. It's been great being able to shower without a wall full of peeling plaster staring me in the face. It's been especially great having a kitchen (and a honey who makes me duck paninis for breakfast). I had forgotten the simple pleasures of a stove upon which to cook. I had also forgotten that apartments usually have kitchen sinks and people aren't supposed to be doing their dishes in the bathroom. So I'm really enjoying a comfortable place to crash.
The wedding was lovely, as far as weddings go. As you may know, I'm not the biggest fan of weddings, especially after what happened last time. But this one was painless, a beautiful ceremony in Jackson Square followed by a second-line through the French Quarter ending with a great reception overlooking the river. Food, booze, family. Very nice.
Aside from all that though, I really fucking miss New York. I'm getting spoiled as shit up there and I hate myself for it. I hate it because it's going to make it impossible to leave, and I'm going to have to leave because I can't stay in one place for too long and I miss the West Coast and I kind of have a plan to move back there, maybe Seattle or back to (shudder) the Bay Area, but the plan requires me to stay in New York for a while longer, like at least a year or two and by that time I'll be so used 3am sushi deliveries and a 24 hour Duane Reade half a block away that I will be hopelessly stuck there for all eternity. Or at least until I can figure out how to open a bar somewhere in South America.
Brazil. It should be in Brazil.