Danegr-ous words

Road trip to a wedding

danegr — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 07:42:00 GMT

I am about to take off on a trip and I am looking for input. Going to a part of the country I am not too familiar with and would like to know if there are any restaraunts, rode side atractions, scenic gotta have a picture kinda places that I should make sure and squeeze in, or stay away from.

My good friends Seth Nordmeyer and Kristene Roberts are gonna be tying the knot in Asheville, NC on the October 23rd. I will be leaving Houston on the 16th to meet Kristene in Fredricksburg where she will have a moving truck with her whole life packed in it waiting to make the second leg of this adventure. I am going to squeeze my motorcycle into the moving truck and help her drive or navigate whilst drinking massive amounts of unsweetened espresso and possibly some truck stop over the counter (legal) speed. I am not sure if Kristene is up to that kind of intensity. We should have 20 hours to figure that out if we follow this route.
View Directions to Asheville, NC in a larger map

We will be focused on getting there ASAP as she is really excited to get to Seth. If you know him, than you understand. The man has MOJO! I am pretty stoked myself. Seeing as I am kinda the chapter president of my local "Women are EVIL" club, I don't make it to many weddings unless there is an open bar or the bride has a bunch of "WINE LOVING"girlfriends, BUT,....This is an exception this is one of those rare moments when it feels right. Plenty of wisdom, no caution! I give this one my blessing and the word is still out on the virtue of the brides girlfriends!!! It should be a good time to share with old friends and I have already promised that I would not drink more than "ahem" six drinks, so there shouldn't be a huge hang over and stories that start out "Do you remember.." and "I can't believe you.." or "after we got you out of jail..".

The journey back to Texas is where it will all go a little grey and a visit to the authourities will become a likely possibility. A fellow rider (Grady) will be meeting me in Asheville on Thursday. We will be making our way back to the Lonestart via which ever way the wind takes us, all the while trying to cram in as much tourism and local economy stimulation (tipping the dancers) as our limited resources will allow. I have been working on a mental list. My ability to pay attention has made this a short list..

1. Deals Gap - As far as motorcycling in America goes it is pretty much as good as it gets. 11 miles with 318 turns! I just got a chill while typing that!

2. Smokey Mountain National Park - It's on the way to Deals Gap and should be scenic drive nirvana.

3. The Parthenon - Nashville - Built in 1925 as and exact copy and monument to what is considered the pinnacle of classical architecture and is in downtown Nashville. Sausage and biscuits and then a stroll threw the Parthenon

4. Graceland - .Memphis - Cause no born and bred southern soul doesn't wanna at least drive thru the parking lot of Graceland. I have heard the tour isn't worth it but I just wanna look thru the fence at it. He was the KING of rock and roll by God.

5. Sun Studios -Memphis - While your in Memphis you might as well..

6. Three Way Tennesee - It's not far from highway 69. I am sorry but I will go there just for the picture!

and I am grasping at straws from that point on.
What do I need to see between here and there???? We are willing and probably will go out of our way to see just about anything so don't hold back.

Not a blog but noteworthy nonetheless!

danegr — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 00:01:00 GMT

The Great Office War from Runawaybox on Vimeo.

For the Radiohead nuts out there..

danegr — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 06:21:00 GMT

Turn your speakers up and put this on wide screen. It's worth it. This is not cartoon put to a song. This is a type of organic coding that analysis beats and patterns and translates them into visual representation. That is a mouth full I know. It's an interesting new form of reactionary sculpture based on code. Very intense, only made better by Radiohead's music.

Weird Fishes: Arpeggi from flight404 on Vimeo.

This is from a intense blog by a guy that is into something called process coding. A beautiful blog with some amazing code/art. Link to it at http://www.flight404.com/blog/?p=121

I finally found a dating site that works for me!

danegr — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 04:23:00 GMT

Created by Mingle2.com (Dating for non-zombies)

My scary haircut...

danegr — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 09:23:13 GMT

So the other day I go to a barber shop and get myself put on the waiting list. Three guys deep. That should mean about 15 minutes. I am cool with that. This always turns into my opportunity to catch up on Sports Illustrated...pictures that is. In no way does SI appeal to me. I know that is not normal but unless it has electronics or computer section or an internal combustion engine, generally of the two wheeled sort or a lovely young lady sitting on the latter, I am not interested. But on certain occasions such as waiting for a hair cut or at the dentist office guys are left with no choice. So we look through a mag that is geared towards the kind of person who looks at the pictures whether we are interested or not. Finally I hear my name...here we go thru another purely male experience of trying to communicate what we want done to our hair whilst not having the ability to get across what we want. We usually say things like, "Just a little of the top" or "above the ear". This conversation is typically short and doesn't really seem to have any effect on the outcome. I think they just give you a shorter version of what you already have. I promise my self one day I will go in and say "I am looking for something completely different. A whole new look", just to see what happens. So I have that conversation with this girl who seems a little distraught. A little off the...over the ear...shave the neck...blah blah blah. Her cell phone goes off and she excuses herself. She steps around the corner into another booth wear I can still hear her. She is obviously talking to her boyfriend and she is not happy. I could hear her talking through her teeth like she was ready to start yelling out loud, then whoever she was talking to obviously hung up. She came around the corner and the veins in her forehead were still visible. I asked her if she was OK and she assured me that everything was fine. She picked up her scissors and started in on me. She repeated every question that we had been through the first time. She said "So you want it above the ear? And blocked in the back?" I said "sure” in an attempt to just be easy. She was cutting my hair like she was mad at it. She began to explain that her baby’s daddy had just informed her that he was sleeping with her sister who lived with them at their apartment and that they were packing her shit up so she could move out. Right about that time she jabbed me in the side of my head with the scissors. Being absolutely positive that she had made contact with the inner regions of my brain cavity, I reached to slow the blood from spilling onto my shirt. When I did, I actually stuck my index finger in between the open scissors of which she promptly squeezes the shit out of, slicing into the last section of my middle finger. At this point I am fearing for my life. She quickly throws a towel in my lap and begins franticly explaining how bad she needs the money and she is so sorry. I'm thinking I need and ambulance. About that time her sister walks in... this/ I can only guess because she starts screaming at her. "How could you sleep with him?" and the sister says says "I love him". So I take this chance to head for the door. At this point the now maniacal stylist has got the scissors in her hand like a butcher knife held by a serial killer. My fresh blood dripping from the ends, and she is going after her sister. "YOU BITCH. I"M GONNA KILL YOU". Now I am running for the same door that the sister is running to, both of us thinking this could be it.....
This was an exercise from a creative writing book that I am reading in which I was supposed write about a scary haircut. Thanks for reading it! I am only supposed to write for ten minutes so sorry about the abrupt ending.

A tasty morsel

danegr — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 07:30:00 GMT

Let me just start off by saying that I don't expect this to appeal to everyone, but if you can't dig zombies, or the electro-stripper-punk queen "Peaches", oooorrrrrrr the Godfather of Punk "Iggy Pop" than just keep on surfin right on by this little gem. I was stumbling around youtube as I oft do in the wee hours and questionable mental delirium of a Saturday night, and came across this video which need I even say, made my fricken day. If you know me, you know I generally love all things ZOMBIE. Cheese factor only makes them better. This is good and cheesy too!! The video opens by claiming to be directed by Georgia Y Romeo! One can only assume they are Mr Romero's illegitimate Spanish children. At one point Iggy slays zombies with the arm of another zombie! And Peaches gets covered in zombie blood which of course is a kinda carnival cotton candy blue! Looks like fun to me! Not to mention the awesomeness of the song in which they each toss in a ref. to each other. Fuck the Pain Away which was made famous after being featured in the movie Jackass II and Iggy's Search and Destroy which is arguably his signature song.

Please enjoy this with an open mind and some crackers. But make sure the kids are not around!

Graham Coat of Arms/ Family Crest

danegr — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 00:29:00 GMT

The associated coat of arms is recorded in Sir Bernard Burke's General Armory. Ulster King of Arms in 1884. Registered at Braco, County Perth; from the second son of the third Earl of Montrose, bart. 1625. There is a tradition that the Roman Wall across Scotland was breached by a Graham, and from this incident was named 'Graham's Dyke'. While this story is doubtful the 'Gallant Grahams' can at least claim a very ancient origin. GRAHAM were the name of an illustrious family of Anglo-Norman origin which settled in Scotland early in the 12th century. The name is derived from the Old English Graegham (grey home) from the manor of that name. The first of the name in Scotland appears to be William de Graham who received from David I. the lands of Abercorn and Dalkeith and is witness to several of the Kings charters, circa 1128. The burghs of Scotland owe much of their prosperity to the large immigration of foreigners which went on during the 12th and 13th centuries. The original founders of the towns, were in many cases wanderers from Flanders, who brought with them their habits of industry and knowledge of trade and manufactures. Settlers of this description came in great numbers to England in the reign of Henry I (1100-1135) and when Henry II (1154-1189) drove all foreigners out of his dominions they flocked into Scotland, where a more enlightened policy made them welcome. Sir John de Graham of Dundaff, the faithful friend of the patriot Wallace, was slain at the battle of Falkirk in 1298. The 3rd Lord Graham was created Earl of Montrose by James IV. in 1504, and fell at Flodden in 1513. James, 5th Earl, was created Marquis of Montrose in 1644. He was a brilliant soldier and his campaign in Scotland one of the most masterly in military annals. He was executed in 1650. Another famous soldier was John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee. During his campaign against the Covenanters he gained the name 'Bloody Clavers', but to his supporters and to his friends, he was affectionately known as 'Bonnie Dundee'. He died in his hour of triumph at the Battle of Killiecrankie in 1689. The name is also spelt Grahame and Graeme.

Cocktails and contemplations..

danegr — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 11:55:00 GMT

Tonight I walked outside in an apparent moment of clarity. I looked up at the clouds rolling by. There was a flash in the sky followed by a BOOM. I, in my state of wondering about this moment of clarity, unsure of why it was happening or which common philosophy to apply to it, be it God speaking to me or, me speaking to me, or the universe itself crying out in an attempt to catch my attention, I sat there staring at those clouds wondering if this like most things, was just another fluke that I was present for…. Then BOOM, another flash. This coinciding with this moment of clarity, or moment of contemplation, or universal connectivity seemed to be way too on time. On time with some of my recent thoughts and or contemplations. A mark in time that for some reason wants me to take notice of it. Or mark it in some way. The truth of the situation is, I have had a couple of cocktails followed by a walk outside in which I witnessed, for some reason, a transformer blow, which is commonly caused by the over stress of early summer put on our electrical network due to all of the air conditioner activity. Usually when a transformer is overpowered to the point of exhaustion it will pop, much like a breaker or fuse at our homes. This popping is usually followed by a cool down period, after which it will attempt to re-engage. If the draw is still to great , it will pop again. Usually followed by the automatic redirection through a different source to relieve the "overdraw". Something that is usually happening completely behind the scenes to us the unaware. Nevertheless I will use this as a springboard for some recent contemplations and or poetic ness that has been bouncing around in my over drawn circuitry.

    As I was looking up at the clouds rolling by I wondered if this was not a metaphor for me waltzing through yet another stage of life yet unaware of all the goings on behind the scenes. We as regular people tend towards the strolling along , only aware of our immediate path. What affect us. What am I going to eat today. What am I going to accomplish today. Who must I interact with to make these things happen. When will I get to sleep again. It always takes a moment of disruption to make us pay attention to what is really going on. These moments of disruption give us the opportunity to contemplate what is, what could be, what should be. In my attempt to locate the elusive balance of the three, I must acknowledge some recent events. The most recent of which would be a small motorcycle trip I took from Port Aransas, Texas to Pasadena, Texas. According to Google it is a mere 231 miles. It was however on a motorcycle that I have been working on constantly over the last two years. I ride this bike as often as possible. In fact, over the last 10 months I have managed to put only 2213 miles on my cage (car). This was my first trip outside the realm of calling Andy (my cousin) to get a trailer and come find me for a rescue. I have been fine tuning the operation of this antiquated combustion contraption to the point that it has become relatively dependable mode of transportation. With each mile comes a new lesson. With each lesson comes a better mechanic and a better machine. I am one with this machine. This machine is also a metaphor for my life, if you haven’t figured that out yet. In the early moments of this bike I would ride down the road focusing on the sounds that it was making, wondering if I had done something wrong. On occasion something would fall off confirming that I had done something wrong. The short list of things that came off the bike includes the license plate, the intake manifold cover, the chain guard, the headlight, the battery cover, the gear shift lever, the brake lever, etc… The falling off of such items has subsided but the fear is still there. One must overcome the obvious noise of the straight pipes and the sounds of the passing road to hear something as subtle as the one and only very slight “TING” you must perceive to realize that and exhaust bolt has just vibrated it’s was loose and hit the passing asphalt at 75 miles and hour. You must focus in the midst of traffic violating, road raging, danger ignoring, not caring that you are inches from death, cage (car) drivers enough to know where along the road it happened, so you can circle back and locate the vintage horn cover that just fell off and hit the street. As in life we must be astute, we have to keep a close watch on life going by so we don’t miss the little things like the opportunities we have to spend time with our families or the subtle cues given off by people who want to connect with us. We can roll past these things without ever realizing they past. Like motorcycle parts if you miss it when it happens, you may never recover that special piece.

    In keeping with this trane of thought…. I watch that white line of life unroll just like the miles beneath my wheel waiting to see what’s around the bend and wondering what I just missed. My hand is on the throttle focused on moving forward but my foot rests just above the brake ready to pull over if I missed someone. As the cloudiness moves back in on my clarity don’t let me pass you by.

    I think I just threw up a little in the back of my throat so no more cocktails and no more staring up at the sky!

Trapped in an elavator with diarrhea! (NSFW)

danegr — Wed, 14 May 2008 05:43:00 GMT

Do not open this at work!
Prepare to laugh hystericaly!

http://view.break.com/494962 - Watch more free videos

Art Car Parade

danegr — Sun, 11 May 2008 07:58:00 GMT

Today was the 21st anniversiry of Houston's Art Car Parade which is sponsored by the Orange Show. It was an excellent day besides the 1000 degree sun beating your brains out. It was actually only 91 degrees but it seems like it was the first really brutal summer day. The heat delerium was a reminder that you are in Houston and of exactly how much beer you drank the night before! Me, my mother and Nephew (John) were the only family members brave enough to endure 2 hours of the hottest part of the day. Well worth the effort! I think we all left feeling inspired or at least the beginings of a stroke!

The rest of the days pics can be seen in this flickr set..

Art Car parade pics

It's the Mother Load!!

danegr — Fri, 09 May 2008 00:26:00 GMT

From one of my favorite blogs...
Boing Boing

Craftsman's $8600 everything toolkit

Posted by Cory Doctorow, May 7, 2008 2:22 PM | permalink

This $8600, 1470 piece Craftsman toolset contains more pieces of precision metal than I could possibly use -- but it sure looks purdy all laid out there, doesn't it? Link (via Dvice)

posted in:

It's no longer just entertainment. It is a threat to our National Security!

danegr — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 23:43:00 GMT

This is not to be taken lightly. This is serious by God. Our President is speaking on the subject thereby substantiating it as a reality. Beware!!

Thanks to my cousin andy for bringing this to my attention!!

Me on flickr....

danegr — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 22:07:00 GMT

I know this is not much of a blog persay, but it will have to stand as a photo blog. If you have not already seen these from my galleries on my website. Sorry to bore you again. Just trying to spread my perverbial-cyber-tronic wings. Trying to connect any way I can.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/danegr/

Zombie Strippers: dumb, silly, watchable, stacked.

danegr — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 18:56:00 GMT

Posted by Xeni Jardin, April 18, 2008 4:07 PM | permalink

Over at Cinematical, Christopher Campbell has a very funny review up about the new zombie stripper movie titled -- wait for it! -- Zombie Strippers...

Sure, it claims to be based loosely on Eugène Ionesco's classic absurdist play Rhinoceros and, sure, it features allusions to a number of philosophers, including Camus and Sartre, but really it's dumb and silly and a heck of a good time. Particularly if you're anything but sober. And if you're just looking for a grindhouse sort of guilty pleasure to pass the time.

Zombie Strippers opens with a montage that sets the scene: it's sometime in the near future, and Bush has just been reelected to his fourth term. Already, we know this movie will be a complete farce, but the ludicrous exposition continues, explaining that government scientists have developed a virus that allows soldiers in Iraq to continue fighting after they're killed. Yes, these super soldiers are zombies, a minor twist on Joe Dante's anti-Bush short Homecoming, which was one of the more critically celebrated episodes of the cable series Masters of Horror, and which featured Iraq War casualties rising from the dead in order to cast their vote against Bush's reelection.

Well, that plan obviously didn't work, so here the zombies are doing what they're made to do: eat flesh and pole dance.

Link to review, here's the trailer on Apple.com. Jenna Jameson is featured in a non-pornographic role. (thanks, Susannah Breslin!)

Brought to you thanks to http://www.boingboing.net/

Thought Of the Day

danegr — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 15:17:00 GMT

Article taken from Cyril Huze Blog - http://www.cyrilhuzeblog.com
URL to article: http://www.cyrilhuzeblog.com/2008/04/02/thought-of-the-day/

Published by Cyril Huze April 2nd, 2008 in Editorial.

“Rapid motion through space elates one”

(James Joyce)

On searching for culture in Houston...

danegr — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 05:36:00 GMT

After my trip to Chicago towards the end of last year, I came home with a mysterious feeling. A feeling like I had just been somewhere that made me smarter. A place that seemed to be teaming with wonderful bits of historically laced culture. Not just "A" music scene...The birthplace for more than one music scene. Not just "A" ballpark....Wrigley fricken field. Not just a zoo..a free zoo, with great apes behind glass not in a cage across a field, across a moat. So I came home determined to locate the culture that my city had to offer. This led me on a little journey. I have been to the newly expanded Houston Museum of Fine Arts of which they were having an exhibit on Pompeii. Wonderful yes. But somehow seems small. I mean 13,000 square feet is no small building but, the fact that it says "Museum of Fine Arts" on the outside leads one to believe there will be a sampling of all of the finer arts. I found myself going around again, not just to look a little closer (which I did to get my 28 bucks worth) but to make sure I didn't miss a stairwell or door to my left or something. After a smooth one hour and twenty seven minutes, that's two laps, I was off to the Menilcollection the following week. There I got to see some things I had some idea about such as works by Pablo Picasso and Andy Warhol and the only Byzantine frescoes in America. Again I was left feeling like there was not enough art on display for the price. Wonderful yes. But I am in Houston. At this point I am starting to feel like Houston has just enough to get on the map. I couldn't make myself go into the Holocaust museum. So next is the Contemporary Arts Museum. Best bang for the buck(which is free), I'm happy to report. Didn't have enough time to spend that day. I could go back. A great place to meet progressive homosexuals (not that there's anything wrong with that..) but i should have brought a date. OK, so now I'm starting to look for some kinda musical things to go and be culturized by. Funny thing is....there is nothing going on that week. Or the next. I went and caught some local groups I heard of and wanted to see. Crap. Pure crap. I went to the Miller Outdoor Theaterand caught a free show with this group of percussionist from japan. You know the big kettle drum things. Powerful but it seemed to only feign culture. It seemed forced. Like someone said "OK it's time for a culture booster...everyone get out yer kettle drums and wear your diaper so the Houstonians don't feel left out." So I continued to search for some kinda music happening. Low and behold my opportunity came last night. My good friends wife called with an extra ticket to the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. Not exactly my cup of tea, but my buddy has been putting in some long hours this week and didn't want his wife going with the kids unescorted. I figured this would be a good chance to enjoy a live show and my first chance to go into the new Reliant Mega Stadium. So then I found out who was going to be performing..................and it was too late to back out.................FUCK.
Fergie. Dude..........it was the worst thing I have ever witnessed. I could feel myself getting dumber by the second as I witnessed a plethora of pre-teen girls do their best stripper dance while their drunk mothers and fathers cheered them on to the tune of "My humps, My humps, My lovely lady bumps". I was sure that all the ground I had made was quickly being lost. As I watched a six year old girl seated between her parents holding her hands up in front of her chest like she was holding grandpa's biggest tomatoes and pretend to caress them like Fergie does to her namesake song "Fergalicious" the urge to run was building up inside me. The song finally ends and she leaves the stage. For a good 10 minutes as the band continues to play something and her troupe keeps dancing like its their turn. She returns in a different costume and they go into this melody of "Live and Let Die, Barracuda, and Welcome to the Jungle" I'm stunned. It's like WTF is going on..... Then it dawns on me that she is throwing the old people a bone. I am starting to foam at the mouth, not sure but it could be from the carnival rides or 3 corn dogs and half a funnel cake and 6 or so beers. So then she leaves the stage again...10 minutes....tick tock, tick tock...the band took this opportunity to solo each instrument.... Who still does that? Am I at a Judas Priest concert or what? She takes the stage and says "OK who here at this rodeo likes reggae music???" -silence- you could faintly hear "PPPWWWWTTTOOOT" (someone spitting tobacco) then she proudly announces that this next song was made in conjunction with Rita Marley and the I-threeswhich turns out to be a bastardization of "No Woman, No Cry". Not even a good one. I think at this point, even she knows that this isn't working. Yet the best plan she can come up with is to rap some more!!!!!! and occasionally scream "Yeehaw" as if anybody outside of a Dukes of Hazard episode ever actually does that. It was so bad. I am scarred for life. Do you realize how many Wilco cd's I will have to listen to, to reverse the damage done by fifty eight minutes (at best) of mind numbing retardedness from one cute blond? Houston should be ashamed.

Be Just Fear Not

danegr — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 02:52:00 GMT

In life we have plenty of things that cause fear in our hearts. War abroad, violence at home, the fact that most of us live one paycheck away from total financial collapse, sickness we cant afford to treat, the possibility of going thru life being unknown or uncared for. Fear is a mechanism our brain uses to keep us from walking headlong and unaware off into something bad or worse the abyss. It is your sub-conscious helping you choose the right path. We cannot cancel our fears out completely but we can use it as our ally. Listen to it. Instead of running from your fear, face it. Look it in the eye. It is trying to tell you something. It is flailing a red flag at a bad situation or a bad choice. Use this as motivation to overcome or at least balance these things with the rest of your life. Running away leaves it unaddressed. Some of us run away by putting our heads in the sand when it comes to global and political issues, major life decisions, all the way down to every day fears like "How am I gonna get thru another day..?". Many of us turn to drugs, alcohol, sex, self-indulgence, overspending or overworking. What ever it takes to dull your senses for an hour or two.

If you understand upfront that fear can be used to guide or push you in the right direction, you can move towards it without hesitation.

Do right! Be honorable! Have courage!

Listen

danegr — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 03:03:00 GMT

We have been given by our inner or outer Gods a voice that comes directly from our heart. I use the term heart loosely. Instead of heart I should say soul but we commonly say heart because it feels as though it is coming from our center. Our center, be it our subconscious, our soul, or our heart is the one true subjective voice we have access to. We commonly use it to make small decisions like what is our favorite color. What kind of food are we in the mood for. What music we feel like listening to. The same voice that is referred to as intuition. Most of the time it feels like random influence. Most of the time we can treat it like random influence to help us decide which movie to see or what flavor of cocktail seems fitting for the occassion. In fact it has a much greater impact on our day to day decision process than we give it credit for. With practice we can rely on it with much greater confidence than simple color, taste, and feeling. We can use this inner voice to guide major moral dilemas. Complex situations involving large amounts of information both tactical and spiritual. Sometimes people can suppress their inner voice thru regimental training or stunt it by never considering it's input. Others consider it at every turn, on every decision. This can only be considered using your full accompaniment of abilities.

"I don't wanna a pickle.." Arlo Guthrie

danegr — Mon, 01 Jan 2007 06:29:00 GMT

So I thought I would write down the story of my motorcycle since it seems to be the only real significant thing going on in my life. Lets see if I can widdle it down to the finer points. August 29th 2005 Katrinahit the Gulf Coast causing massive damage to New Orleans' canal systems which failed resulting in the flooding of some of the lower sections of the city and completely destroying every square inch of the St Bernard. A month or two later Rita came thru and put it all under water again. I worked with the EPA as a part of a Hazardous Waste Reconnaissance and Recovery Unit. I was also on a team responsible for Abandoned Ordinance and Explosisives. As a result of being on this team we were all over the place every day. Arabi, Chalmette, Meraux, Poydras, Violet all the way south to Ycloskey to the little fishing village that Bob Dylan made famous, Delacroix. I was there for over a year. When we first came to town there was one place, a travel trailer, we could bye a cold sandwich or a microwaved hamburger from. That was only if you didn't wanna eat your MRE. There were no lights, no bugs, no dogs, no leaves on the trees,no people, no noise and no police except for the entrance to the Parish. Which had been blocked off by rail cars placed on top of each other as a blockade to keep looters from the ninth ward out. Little did they realize but there were no people in the ninth ward. So as time went on, and things started coming back, they really stuck out to those of us who were there every day. It was a grand occasion the day the Meraux (pronounced ME ROW)food store opened their doors. We bought bottled Coke, peanut butter and Jelly, and Hubigs pies!! WOOO HOOO! Slowly places here and there opened back up and we were there on opening day of every one just to see what they had and see some new faces. There was a muffy shop in Old Arabi that was a good place to hear locals telling their stories about what they lost, and what they saw blow away. There was the Green Store in Violet, The red Star in Poydras some little gas station across the ferry that sold fried corn fritters that a lot of our yankee co-workers loved. Every where you went there was a person with a story and it seemed like it made them feel better to tell it. At one point they had us driving around looking for people who were attempting to come find out what was left of theirs house or business and start the process of meeting with insurance adjusters or FEMA reps. When we would come across these people we were instructed to pull over and offer them protective Tyvek suits and Hepa masks. We had a little flyer that broke down what chemicals hazards to watch for and what to do with them. We also carried ice chest full of Gatorade and bottled water to give to them. Every time you stopped, you met a person. Who proceeded to tell you their story. You listened. Cause you cant help someone who lost everything by giving them Gatorade. You could lend them some sympathy and an empathetic ear. Some of them were mad as hell. Most of them were heartbroken. Some of them cried while they were telling you their story. But after that, when you ran into these people at a store or a restraunt they treated you as if you were old friends. Some of these people we got real close with. One day early on I was driving through what seemed to be a completely empty neighborhood when I noticed a christmas tree in a front yard that had lights on it and they were on! There were no lights at this time. Your eyes had almost forgotten what lights looked like, especially in the middle of utter destruction. A christmas tree! I had to stop just to look at it. I had to go find its owner. I knew this guy must have a good sense of humor to have stuck a christmas tree in his front yard amongst the rubble. Sure enough this barrel chested old fart comes out from behind a little landscaping trailor that he was sleeping in, wanting to know who the fuck was on his property. I explained that I had to stop. I wanted to know how the lights on his tree were burning. Surely he hadn't gone through the trouble of running them to a generator. He said "I got Powwa". Somehow his house still had service. No other house in the Parish had power but this guy. And whats he doing with it.....running a fuckin christmas tree of course! I would stop by this guys house at least once a week, for a story and so he could show someone the progress he had made. Hilarious guy. Called himself the Mayor of LLoyds. Since he was the only person that had returned on his street (LLoyds) it was his business anytime someone came on his street. He would pull people over and ask them for credintials, tell them to slow the fuck down and send'em on their way! Another day I'm driving down another seemingly empty neighborhood and I spot something unusual so I stop. This guy had a concrete aligator with a chain around his neck tied to a tree. There was a small sign next to it that read "Cajun Watchdog"....so I knocked on his door. This guy was collecting anything that could be collecting from the debris all around his street. His front and back yard and all of his driveway was covered with the spoils. He had a john boat that had washed up, some boxes of tools he was trying to clean rust off of, some appliances he thought he could rescue, and so on. As he was telling me his story and showing me around his remains, explaining how he was going to put it all back together, I spotted a bike. It had been under water for two weeks with Katrina and another week with Rita. That day I offered him a thousand dollars. He laughed and said "no way". I made him one of my regular stops. We kept him supplied with all the tyvek suits and Gatorade he would ever need. He kept us in stitches telling us what kinda BS FEMA was putting him thru that week. I kept working on him, telling him he didn't need it anymore, and it was a piece of junk. My number crept up and his number crept down. He was the only owner she had ever had. A 1979 FXE Lowrider HD. Eventually he got his house put back together and eventually I got my bike. I promised him it would have a good home. When I got it home and took it apart. It had sand in the engine cases. The rest of the story is money, work, money, work, money, work money, money, money. I am still working on it in between riding it and it still is eating up my money. Here are some pics from the intial build of what has turned into an ongoing relationship with a dream realized for me.

click here for the flickr photo stream and please be sure to leave a comment!
http://tinyurl.com/52hfts

"The road goes on for ever, but the party never ends!" Robert Earl Keen