Festival. Festival. Festival. (Or, the day I accidentally stalked Davis Rogan for half a day)

 Up up up early early so I can catch a bus and head out to the Tennessee Williams/New Orleans Literary Festival. You know what’s great? Karissa (the organizer) recognized my ability to lead and let me take care of the sales table for a few hours. Then she wanted me to be a site director… which I would have done… if it weren’t for the fact that I really wanted to go to Palm Court for some really amazing panels about New Orleans and Music. And when I reminded her that the panels I wanted to attend were at another location she was fine with it (because we’d talked about it before). 

It was refreshing to hear, “How long do we have you? Which events did you want to attend? Let’s make sure you get there and get to enjoy them!” And every time I turned around someone was thanking me for just being there. 

I liked volunteering for the festival. I was thinking about the Border Book Festival the entire time. But not in a close your eyes and think of England sort of way. Volunteering for TWNOLF was enjoyable and I’m looking forward to working with the organization again. 

Of course, I couldn’t relate to a lot of the workshops, panels and artists. It was a very southern affair. On that count, I miss the southwest. 

I did get to see two panels on New Orleans music in The Palm Court Jazz Cafe

 The first one featuring John Swenson, author of New Atlantis. The book focuses on the return of musical artists and the music scene to NOLA after Katrina. Mr. Swenson knows his shit, and I really want to the book (but it’s a $28 hardback…. So… yeah… that’s going to have to wait). 

Davis Rogan was also there. Yeah, a year ago I would have been all, “Who the fuck is Davis Rogan?” But then Jon introduced me to a little show called Treme. 

So this is Davis Rogan. (It’s a long but hilarious video, the best one I could swipe from YouTube) 

And this is DJ Davis from Treme. 

And all this brings up a very important question that I was faced with in the first week of moving to New Orleans. As a transplant New Orleanian… where do I stand on the show Treme? 

I’m going to go ahead and say it (even if that means I am issued outsider points for it). I fucking like the show. No. Love it. 

Any instance in which a fucking television show manages to call attention to the many injustices issued by local, state and federal government/society in a way that instigates and mobilizes concern from those outside of the situation gets an A fucking Plus in my book. 

And it’s done well. The show creators didn’t import a crap ton of big names with nice tits and rugged chins to portray pathetic caricatures of people who will stop at nothing to get what they want and then get it and everything is happily ever after. No. The characters have to be broken, deconstructed, and wobbily rebuilt… on the promise that things are going to be utterly broken again and again.  

So I fell in love with the show. I could give you a frame by frame of why this show is awesome. The scene where LaDonna freaks out about her rapist being released, while her husband realizes that the woman he loves is trapped because he left her behind? The scene gives me chills. Every. Single. Time. The slow decline of Antoine Batiste's ego-- from fame chasing, 'bone playing DOG to disgruntled music teacher of under-privileged (but not under-talented) middle school musicians? Realistic.

And now that I live here…. I kinda get shit for it sometimes. But loving the show is worth it. In any case, Davis Rogan is the musical adviser for one of the best shows on television. And he’s hilarious. And fucking tall. 

After the panel I had to check out the New Orleans Road Food Festival. I had tamales, pulled pork and a mint julep (with monies raised going to the Tennessee Williams Literary Festival).  

I sit down in some shade and guess who shows up on stage? Davis Rogan is reverse stalking me.

I just saw him play in an air-conditioned bar for the last hour though, so I’m not about to sit in the sun and listen to him again. So it’s off to the New Orleans Healing Center First Annual Sacred Music Festival where I volunteered again—taking tickets and watching the artists entrance. I got to listen to so amazing Buddhist chants. I loved the monks. They were adorable yet potent with language. 

“We make this chant to cut the things that make pain in life. Not with a weapon. But with thoughts.” 

Oh my heart melted. Yes, life is pain and suffering. You can find at least one thing that cuts away at those elements and you are left with a chest full of strength, a heart full of creation and can breathe without burden.

So write. Or play. Or sing. Just find that thing that helps you chisel away the pain.

insert lyrics to "Food" by Reggie and the Full Effect

Whirlwind of the last few days. 

Day before yesterday I was hired at The Melting Pot on St. Charles. I’ve never been to a Melting Pot but I hear it’s a great date place. Also, the average sales per gust pretty much dictates that I’ll be making some serious tips. Not to mention I will be at the table preparing fondue and demonstrating my mad wine skills. And being politely chatty. 

Last night while I was out with Melinda (who is such a great cheerleader!) she introduced me to a chef that might want to enlist me as a server/ Southwest food advisor. Going to speak to them this afternoon. Today I received an e-mail from a manager at Copeland’s Cheesecake Bistro. He wants to interview me tomorrow. 

So, within a few days of looking for a job in New Orleans I HAVE a job, still getting call backs from other applications that I put in and still networking for more opportunities. Suck it Las Cruces. Cher and I went out for celebration drinks, hence the lack of bloggy.

Yesterday was my adventure into local foods and cooperatives. 

Found the Crescent City Farmer’s Market on Broadway. Taking the St. Charles street car I discovered lots of places. I knew that Touro Synagogue was on the route, but also Temple Sinai, the Jewish Community Center, Loyola, the Library, and the zoo. St. Charles street car pretty much rocks my socks. 

The farmer’s market is lush. LUSH! I was blown away by how much was available. Chard, carrots, beets the size of your fist, cauliflower (!), sweet potatoes, strawberries, citrus of all shapes and sizes—more produce that I’m used to seeing at market. Then there was goat milk products, chicken, seafood, beef, bread, pies, juices, PALETAS! 

One of the vendors had plant starters. I was excited to see many mints- chocolate, orange, and PINEAPPLE MINT which is my very favorite. Pineapple mint likes to try to die. This happened to me every single time I tried to raise them. I was happy (but dismayed) to see the yellowing leaves of the mint the vendor had. It’s not just me! I’m not a pineapple mint killer. Pineapple mint is just depressed. 

I wanted to purchase something from every vendor, but decided to pace myself. If I bought everything this week I wouldn’t have a reason to go back next week. 

I bought carrots from one vendor purely because the vendor had really good looking arms. Like, on the cover of a romance novel titled, “Naomi and The Farmer’s Son” arms. Next time I’m going to take a picture. Naomi= Shameless

I bought chard, garlic chevre, some beet lemonade (it sounds interesting; I still haven’t mustered the courage to drink it) and two pints of strawberries for my gracious friend Cher. 

Then it was off to the New Orleans Food Cooperative. This coop isn’t as large as the one in Las Cruces, but to be fair this is only a baby coop. They started up in October of last year. 

 

That said, they already have more of their shit together than Mountain View Market. 

Transparency and accountability for one. The member comment cards are replied to and posted on a public board. MVM management has a really bad habit of letting member comments, complaints and commendations go on ignored. Board minutes for the previous meetings are also posted publicly and from what I can tell in a timely fashion. They also provide you with a copy of the coop’s bylaws when you sign up. I don’t think many people who work at MVM know where a copy of the bylaws (just the one) is kept in the store. 

Then there’s joining. The cashier didn’t treat my joining as a chore. She didn’t send me off to another desk to finalize my membership. She didn’t apologize to the next person in line about “taking so long.” No, Brooke called a coworker over help other guests while she spent time with me to fill out my application and explain a few things. 

Once the transaction was done… she rang a cow bell over her head and shouted, “WE HAVE A NEW OWNER.” This announcement was prompted by smiles all around and a chorus of “WOO!” coming from various parts of the store. One guy came jogging from an isle—just to say, “Welcome.” 

New Orleans Food Coop has a Hands-on Owner program. I get to volunteer for MY coop and then I get a discount for the month. 12 hours gets me 15%. This kind of incentive invites the members to participate in the store and its financial health. Also- it builds a sense of community. Members aren’t anonymous folks who merely consume what the coop has to offer, they are the people IN the store helping out. 

My share in this new cooperative is $100. Membership is half of that at MVM. And if $100 is still too steep? They have a $25 low-income share. I think this is utterly brilliant. Members who are on food stamps have already admitted to being in a financial situation in which they have difficulty providing nutrition for their households. Why charge them $100? How does that benefit the health of our community? 

A cooperative should be about building up communities. Not building up barriers. Of any kind. If that attitude makes me spicy granola.... then so be it.

In other news, New Orleans Food Coop… still carries JOLLYBEANS. 

Word.