SHORT STORY: N.O. LA part 1

This is the first post of it's kind here at Humble Giant. I want to throw these rough-copies out there so i can get them off my drawing board. Maybe they continue, maybe they don't. At least the ideas are out there.

I got into New Orleans at about 12:30 on a Thursday afternoon. The air conditioning on the plane stops short and a thick cushion of southern humidity pushes against my face. The airport AC picks up the slack and I wipe grease off my forehead. I'm 22. My lady-friend and fellow traveler, is 25. She lived in New Orleans for 5 years. Her name is Sarah Lynne and this trip is sort of a pilgrimage for her. She walks ahead of me as we wander through the airport, looking for her friends.

We are staying with one of her old girlfriends and I don't mean a friend that's a girl. I mean a past lesbian relationship with a girl who was much younger and, very clearly, still in love with her. The thought of it made me tense all week. I never said a thing. Now we're here. It's happening.

Her name is Brandy . She looks like Betty Paige and listens to tons of Ani DiFranco. She was at least cordial as we did the introductions. Along side Brandy is Andrew, another old friend to Sarah. I had met him a few months earlier while he was in Boston for an art opening. Talented dude, but I suspect him of secretly being in love with her too. He was already married to a head-case named Lori. Later that week, Lori would incessantly rub my big toe while high on Ecstasy.

We stopped at the first gas station so Sarah could grab a beer. Ever the rebel, she cracked that sucker right outside the store. I nervously looked around for cops, but apparently there's no open container law in New Orleans. This could make for many nights running between bars holding the same beverage and a sort of seamless, nonchalant buzz. The ride was awkward. Besides saying she liked my Boston accent, Brandy never spoke directly to me. She would just ask Sarah Lynne a ton of questions about me as if I wasn't there.

Taxidriver, BlackOut IPA and an Arcade Stick

Taxidriver is celebrating it's 35th Anniversary and for that, they re-released the flick in theaters for 2 days. I got to check this early-Scorcese masterpiece with a gang of hooligans ranging from film-aficianados to just-killing-time viewers. It was a dope experience for all. I kind of viewed this as a once-in-a-lifetime oppurtunity, so I been hypin it up for a week. It lived up to it.
this is the best pic i could snap all incognito and what not.......

After that, a couple of us headed to John Harvards and took down some tasty beverage. The blackout IPA is crazy good. Crazy strong too. I had to leave 1/2 of my 3rd pint on the table. DUI's are for suckers.



As if this isn't' a bomb weekend already, my wife and I slept in till about noon on Sunday and had a huge breakfast courtesy of Johnny Jacks. We walked it off down at Patriot Place where I found a Street Fighter 4 arcade stick for half-price. Random sale and I had a gift card. Word?
cipher complete. an incredible 2days and I still have Monday. (barber's weekend, goons)

How to lose your heart.

Decide that you know all there is to know about yourself and life in general.

This should allow you to act holier than thou towards your lady, your friends and the general public. This will offend them deeply and put a decent size wall between your false and true-self. Once you've alienated people, they will no longer tell you that you're being ridiculous. For most of my life my friends have been my litmus. They've called me out on counterfeit toughness, huge delusions and a few terrible outfits, like the overalls with only one strap.

When the potential of failure pops up, so does our false-self. We're trying to be the person we wish we were in these tight situations. Instead, it's a completely mixed up and messy hybrid of old wounds and people we look up to.

Allow your relationship to crumble.

By now your significant other will be wondering what happened to the person they fell in love with and if you're ever coming back. You won't be coming back. They will be leaving. It's not easy to say how long this could take. For my girl, it was about 9 mos. Pretty good on her part.

Spend a month or so blaming them and of course, God.

It's funny. When a situation I'm in doesn't work anymore, I look under every other rock except my own. There's no way I could be the common denominator in these jacked-up relationships. I'm a super-christian. I pray, follow the commandments and even tithe (not quite the full 10%, but still). I'm not comparing my self to Jesus or anything, but I'm as close to perfect as it gets. It's God's fault. He is always doing these Job-like attacks to see if I'm tough enough. Well it's starting to piss me off, God. Back off a bit.

Hit rock bottom and pray for answers.

Now the real journey begins. This is the equivalent to purchasing plane tickets. You are definitely booked on a flight and turning back now would just be blasphemous and a waste of time. Let him take you on a trip. Let him work in your life. Let him use this situation

The Anti-Hustle Movement......who wants to join my club?

I'm pretty sick of every person doing music.At least, every person doing underground hip-hop. everyone is about that hustle.....all about that grind son!......always trying to push and prod their product into your earhole.......well, I would like to initiate a movement.......the "anti-hustle". I've never been much of a salesman, so i'm just gonna sit back and anti-hustle. I'd rather play Street Fighter and search for rare comics anyway. Who has time to put out mixtapes and promote on various websites? Especially after working 40hours, going to the gym and attempting to be a good husband. If you feel like me, then the movement is for you.

I'm still messing with the mascot, but so far............this works.




#ANTI-HUSTLE

breakfast spots

I recently moved to a new town in a new house with my new wife. I don't do change so good. There's been some intense adjusting. I hate the burbs. I have since i was about 8. But I'm looking at it more like an adventure than torture. Along with small-mindedness and a whole bunch of white people, the small towns do offer some serious breakfast joints. I love breakfast. Well, food in general makes me smile but particularly breakfast. Breakfast spots are a lot like barbershops. You frequent one, become a regular and then it's hard to stray. I suggest these places to you and here's what to get.


Tony's on Main before the Hospital..............steak tips and eggs. Huge portion and if you get there before 9:30, free coffee.

Marty's on East Main............................Steak n Cheese Benedict. tasty as all hell and it might give you heart disease.

Johnny Jacks on Main.............................Italian omelet. tons of cheese. The dopest thing about Johnny's is in addition to mornings, they open Friday and Saturday nights from midnight to 3 for that after-a-few-brews meal before you crash.

Lowell's on 140 in Mendon.........................Pancakes. These are the best pancakes in the area. Even though it's a town away, it's a 10 min bike ride you lazy jerks.