This is a Gift
On the night of September 21st, 1998, I drove to New Orleans to see a performance by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. On that very same night, a person who would in a decade’s time end up being the person with whom I would choose to share my future also made the drive to New Orleans for the same concert. It isn’t particularly serendipitous to consider the coincidences of paths crossing in this life, peppered as it is with electronic intimacies that can far outstrip the social niceties of the past, but for me, considering the running list of near encounters, common interests, and shared acquaintances that revolved around our separate lives, it does seem somewhat poetic to view the outcome were one inclined to do just that. I am more than inclined to do these things as I am more than inclined to create a running narrative with this life. Aesthetics have always ridden shotgun with me, and they are always welcomed at the table.
This night marked one of many times when our paths crossed without our ever having had the chance to actually meet.
It is almost an agony to consider the litany of near misses that had come to define our workings through the landscape of our respective lives. But it is only agonizing in light of the facts that have brought us together as we are now in these current times. That our past commingled so delicately with our futures, all outside of our knowledge, and all while our inner lives were fleshing themselves out to be attuned with the other in an almost imperceptible fashion is the sort of thing that, for me, gives life meaning.
And you should know that I have spent the better part of this lifetime looking just for these sorts of illuminated incidences.
I have a soft spot in my heart for New Orleans. I have returned there repeatedly through the years and have almost exclusively enjoyed myself while I was there. The events surrounding the storm that anyone with half a brain saw coming for years are tragic on a level that is as epic as the incident itself. The sadness that surrounds that town has now been brought to the fore on a level that is almost impossible to imagine, and yet somehow New Orleans is still New Orleans, massive warts and all.
Returning there on the trip back from Florida to deal with the sudden death of my ailing mother was a sabbatical of sorts in as much as it was also a healing experience. You can read my account of the trip through this enclosed link, or you can simply know that stopping there that October afternoon meant a great many things to me and I owe the city for that.
I also owe the city for hosting this concert, which has stood the test of time as being one of the most moving performances of my life. And that other person shared this feeling.
And now, these are feelings that we can share together, and in the future we will get to make so many more.
This podcast is comprised of tracks off of a bootleg recording I have of the very same Bad Seeds concert that I have been talking about. I have had to cut a few of the tracks out for the sake of time. This is a very personal recording for me, but there’s no reason why anyone shouldn’t enjoy it on their own. I hope you get something out of it. God knows I have.
I love New Orleans, I love Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, and I love you.
This is a gift.
This is a love letter.
This night marked one of many times when our paths crossed without our ever having had the chance to actually meet.
It is almost an agony to consider the litany of near misses that had come to define our workings through the landscape of our respective lives. But it is only agonizing in light of the facts that have brought us together as we are now in these current times. That our past commingled so delicately with our futures, all outside of our knowledge, and all while our inner lives were fleshing themselves out to be attuned with the other in an almost imperceptible fashion is the sort of thing that, for me, gives life meaning.
And you should know that I have spent the better part of this lifetime looking just for these sorts of illuminated incidences.
I have a soft spot in my heart for New Orleans. I have returned there repeatedly through the years and have almost exclusively enjoyed myself while I was there. The events surrounding the storm that anyone with half a brain saw coming for years are tragic on a level that is as epic as the incident itself. The sadness that surrounds that town has now been brought to the fore on a level that is almost impossible to imagine, and yet somehow New Orleans is still New Orleans, massive warts and all.
Returning there on the trip back from Florida to deal with the sudden death of my ailing mother was a sabbatical of sorts in as much as it was also a healing experience. You can read my account of the trip through this enclosed link, or you can simply know that stopping there that October afternoon meant a great many things to me and I owe the city for that.
I also owe the city for hosting this concert, which has stood the test of time as being one of the most moving performances of my life. And that other person shared this feeling.
And now, these are feelings that we can share together, and in the future we will get to make so many more.
This podcast is comprised of tracks off of a bootleg recording I have of the very same Bad Seeds concert that I have been talking about. I have had to cut a few of the tracks out for the sake of time. This is a very personal recording for me, but there’s no reason why anyone shouldn’t enjoy it on their own. I hope you get something out of it. God knows I have.
I love New Orleans, I love Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, and I love you.
This is a gift.
This is a love letter.
3 Comments:
So nice.
In the spirit of love, I will share this story.
About 6 -7 years ago, I was married, but took a trip to Houston with three friends. I sat in the back seat with one who spoke so loudly that he actually vibrated my teeth so much that they hurt. But he was funny, and he thought it was funny that he hurt my teeth, but did try to talk softer.
While on that trip he got his feelings hurt that his other friends were making fun of him for the type of father he might be. He thought he might not suck at it and hoped he would be given the chance.
Not two years later he was, and with me.
Fucking Houston. For all its faults, it's where lovers collide.
I feel compelled to add my New Orleans/Houston love connection story as it involves Nick Cave and a NAP member acting as cupid.
I knew my wife in high school as she dated a good friend of mine for a while. I still have a vivid recollection of the first time I met her standing in front of the Bellaire theater looking very much like Siouxsie Sioux emblazoned on her t-shirt. I was immediately smitten but never made my feelings clear even after she stopped dating my friend.
We lost touch when I went to school though I often wondered what had become of her. Cut to 2000 and I am at the bottom of a depressive cycle of self destruction and boredom. I had made 2 yearly pilgrimages to New Orleans for lost weekend with friends or by myself.
I am at work a week or so before my next sojourn and talking to Justin whiling away a few hours on our respective night shifts. Speaking about the River Oaks, my future wife's name comes up as she worked there with Justin. He mentions she is living in New Orleans and gives me her email address. We exchange emails and updates and she extends a invitation to stay at her place. During that stay we wondered how often we were at the same bar or in Jackson square oblivious to the others existence much less presence.
We spent a nice weekend together and I knew I was falling in love. We did the long distance thing for almost 2 years with me driving to New Orleans every other week, putting about 60,000 miles on my car. I would leave work at 4 Friday and get there around 9:30. I would leave around 2:30 in the morning Monday and commute to my job in Houston.
Not only did I fall in love with her but with New Orleans. It was nice having a local (she had been there for a decade or so) show me everything I missed spending too much time in the quarter. Occasionally I would be able to stay through Monday and Sundays in New Orleans are like no other place as they seem endless and even slower than the other days.
During that time Justin and went to New Orleans to see Nick Cave, a particular favorite for us all but my wife especially. Into my Arms had an extra meaning that evening and the Orpheum theater provided a perfect backdrop.
We went back and forth trying to decide whether I would move there or if she would relocate to Houston. New Orleans did not have many tech jobs and there was always the chance I would drink/drug myself into a life long stupor since New Orleans will leach on to any weakness you have in life. We both cried as we watched the news during Katrina knowing it would never be the same but grateful we weren't our friend who still lived there and spent 2 months on our couch trying to figure out what to do next.
Our first trip back about a year or so ago was sad as expected but the last trips (once by myself to see Wilco 2 nights and the other a few weeks ago) reminded us more of previous times though the New Orleans we fell in love in exists only in our memories and hearts now like I imagine it does for many others.
In hindsight we were both at points in our lives where staying in New Orleans didn't make sense as there were aspects in life we wanted to try out that New Orleans could not offer. Although living in Houston is so easy and has been a good place for our marriage to grow we still wonder what would have been.
Just a side story here, but a friend from work has just given my a number of artists for download, and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds was at the top of the list. Not bad. Not bad at all.
Frankie
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