(NEW ORLEANS, La.) I’m lightly sick right now, and the barista at this mind-bendingly cool coffee shop is kind of rude. But I don’t care. I have had a great night.
A few hours ago, I went on-air at Loyola University’s Crescent City Radio with a triad of freshman and sophomore boys, and we talked about everything from the Saints’ victory (I mean, of course) to strange, depressing news items from South America. James, the host of the Lambert Nation proved to be a nice guy and ended up inviting me on his show with only a few hours notice. After the show, he bought me dinner at the campus’ opulent cafeteria, and that move warmed my heart. How classy. Thanks, James, for the conversation and the food — and the late confirmation that my own college cafeteria grub actually was pretty mediocre.
On the drive back to the trailer, I got lost and found my way here, to Z’otz, an offbeat coffeehouse that looks kind of like a cave decorated by hipster artists. How can I explain this? It has multiple, interlocking rooms that are misshapen and filled with young people on their laptops. The room I’m in, which faces the street, is covered in plaster painted to resemble stone, and there are huge photos of Barbies in compromising positions on the wall. What’s really strange is that I was here yesterday and wanted to return but couldn’t remember the name of it or the street it was on. Yet, while driving around completely lost, I found it by accident. I love it when magic works like that.
Well, I was thinking that I would write a long, involved post tonight about those three weeks I recently spent in Savannah, but I won’t. Not just yet. My sore throat and foggy head are enticing me to find my way back home, watch an episode of 30 Rock and go to bed. And besides, maybe I’m still not ready for the responsibility of writing about Savannah. In no small way, that city felt like home, and I have always found it hard to write about the places I call home. My words always seem to pale in comparison to the complexity of the towns I love. Sure, I have written tons about Silver City and Moab and Arcata, but I always feel that they deserve more.
Anyway, thank you for reading. Nothing earth-shattering happened tonight, but I have this light, optimistic sense of elation in me and wanted to share it. When I feel in my skin, it’s always a surprising gift. These last few days, New Orleans has given that to me, and I’m in awe.