This past weekend I visited New Orleans for my cousin’s baby shower. First stop was at Baton Rouge and then headed on down to New Orleans.

The trip was alright I guess. The usual sociology revealed itself of course. A major display of classism in the 21st century deepening the valley between generations. Yet the mountaineers just walk on not noticing it is the valley they are treading across. Oh well.

A lot of stares and a lot of mystery whether they were condescending or not. Quite morbid they leave their stares up for debate for my insecure mind.

Indian women (oh yes I did just classify them) love to gossip about other people’s daughters and all the shit these girls do and how these girls carry themselves. If a girl is a total riot where disorder is defined as being either impulsive, independent, and free thinking she is chastised significantly. If an Indian boy is the same way, well he is exempt from all of that criticism. He is actually lauded for this sort of expression. He is lauded for having a dick. Truth be told. Don’t drop your jaw like that.

I had to painfully watch as my mom-to-be cousin who was wife-to-be a couple of years ago succumb to every order of her elders. She’s a doctor so she has definitely got it in her to be that patient with these women. I on the other hand would throw stuff. Like my angry eyebrows. & maybe even a pout.

Because no one wants to eat your thousand calorie sweet-meats lady. I say no and my thighs say no. Size 2 for lyfe!

Shit where was I going with this…

I forgot. & that’s something I’ve learned to be better at. Maybe because I’m impulsive. Maybe because I think way too much about things that aren’t supposed to be important. Maybe because I don’t got a dick in the way to point me in the direction of what I want. Maybe it’s none of that and I’m just spewing up shit ‘cause the physical pain in my neck hurts so bad. This is what I get for falling asleep upright in the car.

I remembered Tennessee William’s play the entire time. The relationship between Stella, Stanley, and Blanche. This play always comes into my consciousness whenever I make a trip to Louisiana. Never really cajun food or casinos for me. The haunting phrase “I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers” escapes my lips in a silent whisper when some stranger makes my day. Or when someone way too familiar ruins it.