Happy Mardi Gras!
I’m in New Orleans until further notice. In October I went to Alaska and when I came home it appeared as though my life had gone to shit. My neighbor had seriously upped the dysfunction in the building. There were bedbugs all over near her downstairs unit, then she set off a bug bomb and they came upstairs. I called the landlord and he told me he would evict her. He didn’t. I came to NOLA for a few weeks and on my way back to new england I was on a trail that derailed. I had a strange and very drunk adventure in one of the carolinas. When I finally returned to new england I was greeted to a dead fridge, a slightly improved bedbug problem, and an ever increasing mountain of bills. I prepared to return to New Orleans, thinking I would wait out the neighbor and see what happened. I packed up some of my important stuff and thenI went out for takeout. I was gonna get on a flight the next morning at 6 am. While I was out getting nam-yah the downstairs neighbor kicked in my kitchen door. I returned to find her and one of her many boyfriends in my kitchen high as fuck looking for her cat. Yeah bitch your cat, my home. Why they hell are you in my kitchen? I called the cops and got the hell out of town. Fuck that shit. I called my family and asked them to pack my shit up cause I’m not coming back to that nonsense. That crazy bitch terrorized me for a whole fucking year. I loved my flat but I was in constant fear of encountering the neighbor. She could not help herself, she saw me and screamed at the top of her lungs. For a while I hated her, thought she had ruined my life, now I just feel kind of sad for her. She had three babies and no car, job, man, nothing. Her parents paid her rent and she was in her 30s. She must feel so powerless that she needs to scream at people over things like where they park their cars, what they drink, how they live their lives when it has no bearing on her life at all. So I just split. I could not take the nonsense anymore. I moved to New Orleans and I left all the trappings of my life behind. I left my cars, my books, my pants. Everything, just box it up or toss it — I don’t really care.
I rented a place in New Orleans and my mediocre credit was not a problem, neither was my transient nature or my lack of local landlord references. I just told the owner that I work on bourbon street as a stripper and gave him a deposit. No bullshit. And I started riding a bike to get around. I started to feel a lot better. I began to think that the crazy neighbor didn’t ruin my life, maybe she saved it. I love New Orleans. I always have. Quite frankly I’m shocked I didn’t move here years ago. I always assumed that I would move here if my life ever just went to shit and I wanted to drink away my potential. And for a few weeks I did try to drink away my potential, but then things started just working out and now I’m doing alright. I’m pretty fucking happy. I’m having sexy times and living a vampire life, in a town where lots of people live vampire lives. It is refreshing. I feel like a lot of the health problems I was having are clearing up. I honestly did not expect that I would ever feel any better, that the most I could hope for was a basic level of health maintenance but now I feel like maybe things will be alright. I’m really glad I got the hell out of new england.