In New Orleans

Overfed and unassertive. An arduous combination.

If 1 came here with a sense of purpose, everything would be so much easier, wouldn’t it?

I thought the chicken kabob in yogurt sauce would keep me buoyant, but they did not mention it was butter yogurt sauce. And then the cranberry bar was more like a brownie than a granola bar. And now I feel like a case of cranberry bars, filled to the brim.

Things are never what they appear to be.

A five dollar bill falls from my pocket and the very kind woman in orange pants and a baseball cap seated next to me informs me of this. I feel guilty for typing words about her while she sits 2 feet away, maybe writing similar words about me.

Narcissism. Again.

My decision to stay at a b&b (found on Airbnb) also kind of pushes my buttons. All of my intruder issues. The same ones that I have when I stay with friends and am hyper-vigilant about intruding or not intruding upon their lives. It makes no sense for these issues to arise when I am actually a paying guest.

But still… there are me and my issues.

Maybe it’s reverse narcissism.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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