Bless Your Heart...

This past weekend, I watched the youngest of my dad's side of the family walk across the stage and receive her high school diploma, and the honor of Salutatorian.  That side of my family live outside of town...a town consisting of about 400 people...the town of Potts Camp, MS.  I love going down there and a few things came to my attention. 

The first is the lack of exposure to "outsiders" that a town like this experiences. I can definitely see how it would be hard to move to a town like this.  I was probably the first modified person most of the denizens of this sleepy little town had ever seen.  I didn't really notice, as I'm apt to do, but my mom said that heads were turning everywhere.  It's not really surprising.  As I looked around, I saw 3 groups of people filling the newly air conditioned gymnasium, sadly enough: the black families, the rednecks, and the...other white people.  I, needless to say, didn't fit in to any of these groups of people.  This would be very daunting to most people.  However, I'm not completely seen as an outsider.  I'm seen as "Benny's son."  And "Susie's nephew."  My father has been dead for 23 1/2 years, yet I can walk into a store and am instantly greeted with, "Aren't you Benny's boy?"  I take great pride in that.  

Though I don't live there and definitely don't fit the social mold, the people of Potts Camp have never been anything but nice to me.  Because in a town that size, you're family or you're not.  There's not a whole lot of in between.  

On that same note, it makes me think of the good ol' Southern expression: "Bless his/her heart."  This is the Southern excuse to say whatever you damn well please. 

"Bless his heart, he's dumb as a bag of rocks." 

"Lord, bless her heart, she's as sharp as a rusty nail."

I must have heard this phrase 100 times during the day.  And I love it. 

Boudin in Baton Rouge

Like I said, I was recently in Louisiana.  It's a beautiful state and I totally think I could live there.  While we spent most of our time in New Orleans, we did spend a day in Baton Rouge.  But since we really spent most of the day just hanging out with friends, I figure I'll save a post specifically about the city for another day.  Let me just say, they have some of the most beautiful Antebellum homes their along Highland St. if you're ever down that way.

What I really wanna talk about is food and hospitality.  Our friends, Jonathan and Corey are a gay couple living in Baton Rouge, LA.  Not only did they invite us over, they prepared a delicious meal.  And I use the term "friends" loosely here.  Jonathan is a friend of the family to some of my friends I took the trip with.  I had met Jonathan once or twice before, but had never met Corey.  And there were 9 of us!  But they couldn't have been more welcoming.  They met us at the door and introduced themselves to everyone on the way in.  Maybe that seems a weird to say, but it's such a dying tradition.  I can't even remember how many times I've gone to a party at someone's house and spent the whole night wondering who owned the place.  Or walked up to someone and introduced myself and they've looked at me like I was crazy.  And like me, they don't fit into the traditional mold, but they are both very much modern Southern gentlemen. 

Now, on to the food.  We had burgers, chips, regular grill-out food.  But there were a couple things we had that I think a lot of people have probably never tasted especially if they're not from the South.  The first was "Cracklins."  These aren't only seen in the South (they're actually seen all over the world), but they've become a Southern specialty.  It's the skin of an animal and a little fat, typically pork down here, that's just deep fried.  Simple, I know, but they're so good!  Pork rinds come from the same origin.

But the real treat, and on of my favorite Southern foods, is boudin (pronounced boo-daan).  It has a European origin, but like most things that are brought to the US from the places our ancestors hail from, we've made it uniquely our own.  Boudin is a combination of a few things.  It's a little bit of rice, Cajun spices, pork, and beef with chicken gizzards and hearts thrown in all in a sausage-like casing.  In days gone by, the intestine was used as casing, but you don't really see that much anymore.  There are different combinations of this, but this is the type we had and that I most enjoy.  It's all mined and ground together, so there aren't any big hunks of anything.  And the flavors compliment each other so well.  It's most readily available near Baton Rouge and to the south and west of there.  It's almost impossible to find anywhere else in the US, as far as I know.  Most people don't have a clue what I'm even talking about when I mention it.  I know it might sound a bit odd, but I definitely recommend giving it a try if you ever have a chance.  You'll be greatly rewarded!

Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez!!!

I've been gone for a few days and apparently the queue decided not to work while I was gone, so I'll fit in those posts in over the next few days.  I went down to the Big Easy...New Orleans, Louisiana.  New Orleans will be the topic for this post, but the trip in general will inspire a few days worth of material, I'm sure.
I guess I'll start with some history.  New Orleans was founded May 7, 1718 and named for Philippe II, Duke of Orléans, who was Regent of France at the time.  After some swapping between the French and Spanish, it landed in French hands.  These cultures meeting on the banks of the Mississippi River are what resulted in the distinct style of architecture that make New Orleans so unique today.  At one point, New Orleans was actually the largest city in the South, but has since been eclipsed by Houston, Dallas (I consider Texas part of the New South, not the traditional), Atlanta, and Miami (though I don't consider Florida a Southern state in any sense of the word, minus geography).
Today, New Orleans is a welcoming, progressive city, all while holding on to the distinctive Southern Charm.  The people of New Orleans are bright and smiling, a patchwork of various cultures, like the architecture of the city itself. New Orleans is an incredibly gay friendly city, especially it's downtown and French Quarter districts.  You can't throw a stone and not hit some kind of Gay Pride symbol of some sort in the latter.  Also the home of Jazz, you can't go anywhere downtown and not hear a random brass band.  While I was there, I stayed in a converted French rowhouse near the corner of Rue Saint-Philippe and Bourbon.  It was BEAUTIFUL!  Here are a few photos.  The first few are from my phone, so I apologize for the quality, but they get better!
Our Rowhouse

Our Front Door

The Bungalow

The Bungalow Ceiling

The Courtyard





The Courtyard Kitty

And like I said, Gay Pride is everywhere!  It was actually a bit odd to be the majority at times.  But I liked it, lol.  And got used to it quickly.  After getting home, I felt a bit out of place for a while.
We only went to one club while in New Orleans, but we had a blast.  "Oz" is a gay club on the corner of Rue Dumaine and Bourbon, just a block from where we were staying.  It was a lot of fun!  It was pretty much a top 40 dance club with a tiny bit of off the charts music.  There were go-go boys as well, if you're into that.  I'm not so much, but they were nice to look at.



My good friend (on the right) and I (on the left).


I would definitely recommend this club for a good time.  I'm not a huge club person, but I had a blast!  As always, the people were great and it's open until the wee hours of the morning.
As far as other eateries, for a nice meal I recommend the French Market Restaurant at the corner of Rue Saint-Philippe and Rue Decatur.  The wait staff couldn't have been a whole lot more professional or helpful.  The food was amazing and the chef has nightly specials.  They can be a bit pricey, but well worth it.  I had the most amazing seafood pasta dish I've ever had.

For a good diner meal or quick breakfast (with a wonderfully flamboyant staff) I The Clover Grill at the corner of Rue Bourbon and Rue Dumaine.  The jukebox was playing constantly, as if the banter of the staff wasn't entertaining enough.  And the food was great.  It's a small place, so there may be a little weight outside, but they get people in and out as quickly as possible.  I don't think we ever waited more than 5 minutes or so and we ate there a couple different times.  And it's  open 24 hours, you can get a little something to soak up the booze whatever time you may get done drinking...for the day.

A good Irish pub what you want?  Go to Flanagan's Pub on Rue Saint-Philippe, between Rue Royale and Rue Chartres.  It's open 24 hours, the staff was very friendly, and the drinks reasonable.
And of course, it's not a trip to New Orleans without beignets at Cafe du Monde on Rue Decatur near Rue Sainte-Anne. Those little French pastries get me every time!

One place I'd stay away from would be The Corner Oyster Bar & Grill on the corner of Decatur and Rue Saint-Peter just southwest of St. Louis Cathedral.  I had an fried oyster poboy there and it wasn't good.  I don't think the oysters were cleaned properly and the tomatoes on it were spoiled, they tried to tell a friend of mine that they couldn't make a frozen margarita with tequila in it, and our waitress was absentee.  When she wasn't, she was pretty much a bitch.
One of the interesting things about New Orleans is that, at least in The French Quarter, there is no anti-open container law.  You can walk around and drink to your heart's content.  That being said, there are open air bars where you can grab a giant daiquiri and keep on going.  Or do a few shots.



And last, but not least, here a few photos from our daily excursions.



St. Louis Cathedral

Joan d'Arc

Like I Was Sayin'...

Yesterday, I talked about the older woman in the mall with dagger eyes for me.  Tonight, I encountered her polar opposite.  As I was getting ready to leave work, we had a client (~65ish) at the window waiting to check out.  I told her that Jackie was putting in charges and getting her meds together...well, her poodle's meds together.  Then she stopped me. 

"I have to ask.  I've seen a lot of young guys with their ears like yours and I've been curious.  Are those just post earrings like mine...or...?"

"No, they actually go all the way through.  It's a slow process of stretching the piercing to accommodate larger jewelry."

She didn't quite seem to understand, so I told her I could take it out if she wanted me to.  She said that was fine, so I did.  I'm always a little hesitant because I know it does bother some people to see a stretched piercing sans jewelry.  But a look of understanding came across her face and, even though I was off the clock, I stood and had a 10 minute conversation with her about the process.  She was genuinely interested, didn't judge, and offered her own thoughts.  It was amazing.  She was so kind.  I wish everyone could meet her.  She was a true Southern Lady. 

The Stare of Death...

Yesterday's blog reminded me of something else that I'd like to talk about.  There were several days in a row that I had to go to the mall for one thing or another.  I was sitting in the food court with friends and we noticed this older woman staring hard enough in our direction to put a hole in concrete.  Let me back up for a second.  I used to be WAY out there as far as style. We're talking spiked dog collars, bondage pants, the works.  And I'm not a small guy.  I'm 6'1" and built like a linebacker.  Needless to say, people used to stare at me.  A lot.  I still get looks sometimes due to my body modifications and mohawk, but I'm just used to it.  So, I don't always notice stuff like that, but everyone else did and filled me in. 

And it threw me for a loop!  She had real disgust and loathing in her eyes.  And we were just having lunch.  There weren't 2 guys making out.  We weren't sacrificing babies to Satan.  We were eating cheap mall Chinese food.  But the look in her eyes was just...unsettling.  And I don't understand it.  What happened to the sweet little old Southern lady that may not approve of something you're doing, but would never dare insult you?

And I seem to get both ends of the stick.  I've definitely had older women that scowl at me and I've had older women who engage me in conversation as to what my body mods mean or how they're done.  And I love that.  They're genuinely interested.  And the ones who look at me like I remember my dad's mom looking at me.  Mommom, born and raised in Potts Camp, MS, was a total Southern lady.  I miss her so much.  But I'm afraid that part of Southern culture is dying.  And that makes me incredibly sad.  But it's something I'm determined to try and keep alive.

A Helping Hand...

Maybe this seems a bit mundane, but this really impressed me.  I was at the mall the other day to get...something...oh, my glasses.  Anywhoo, there was a woman with 2 small kids, a girl ~4 and a boy ~2-3.  The little girl was in front of her and the little boy just a step behind.  She got ready to go down escalator and the little girl hopped right on, followed by the mom, but the little boy just stopped.  The mom didn't really seem to notice until about 1/4 way down the escalator.  She turned to say something to the little boy and realized he was still at the top and told him to come one.  At this point, a man is approaching the top of the escalator and is waiting for the little boy to go on.  The mom realizes the boy isn't gonna get on and starts back up the escalator.  At this point the little boy seems like he's gonna sit down on the escalator and my Final Destination instinct breaks in and I can just see the little boy's arm get ripped off.  Morbid, I know, but that's where my brain goes.  I guess the man at the top of the escalator has the same instinct and snatched the little boy up, out of harm's way.  The mom has made back to the top of the escalator, but loses her balance.  While holding the child, the man reaches out and grabs her arm, keeping her from falling.  

It was so refreshing to see.  So often anymore, I feel like most people would have simply been irritated with the child and parent and could have ignored them or even made the situation worse.  But this man helped a total stranger.  And did I mention that it was a white man and black woman?  Maybe that seems unimportant, but it can really be an issue sometimes, especially in East TN.  This whole situation just really made my day.  He's a true Southern gentleman.

Bring Me To The Deep South...

I thought I'd change it up a bit today.  I really want to promote music artists I like, and for the purposes of this blog, ones specifically form the South.  So, today, I'm gonna talk about Cartel.  The song above is "Deep South", which I felt was fitting. from their most recent album, "Cycles."

Cartel is a 5 member band from just outside Atlanta, GA.  Their first album, "Chroma", was released in 2005.  Let me just say that from the day I picked it up, it didn't leave my CD player for a good 2 months. 

Much to my dismay, Cartel's next album wasn't released for another 2 years.  In 2007, "Cartel" was released.  Definitely a progression from the 1st album, but it kept that sound that is Cartel.  Again, this album didn't leave my stereo for quite a while. Track 13 is probably my favorite.  If you just let it play, after a long pause, there's a hidden song that has to be one of my favorites from the band.  A very simple song, it really hits home with me. 

Their next album, "Cycles" was released in 2009.  Another great release.  Like I said, the featured song up top is form this album.  As is usual for me, I listened to this album for a while when I first got it.  And I've broken it back out for the summer.  It really gets me pumping.  

I think a big reason I love this band is that I can connect to their music.  There's something that feels like home about Cartel.  There's a Southern flavor to it, mixed in with a good dose of pop on a base of rock.  This is a band that I've taken pride in turning several people on to.  Hopefully, this anyone reading this will at least give em a try.  I'm pretty sure you won't be sorry.   

The Simple Things

I've pretty well had to put this blog on hold due to finals, but I just couldn't make this wait.  It's kinda sad, in some ways.  I got off work tonight and ran by McDonald's cause we were slammed and I was hungry.  I sat in line for a while cause everyone was out grabbing study food.  As I got up to the window, the girl at the window got my card, ran it through, handed me my food, whatever,  I said, "Thanks, have a good night!", not really thinking a whole lot about it.  It was her response that got me.  The way she said thank you sounded as if she'd never heard it before.  I just don't get that.  How hard is it to say "please" or "thank you?"  What happened to manners?  Let's face it.  Working the Mickey D's window at 3am isn't exactly the highlight of anyone's life.  Throw a smile their way.  You never know how it might impact someone else.