KELLS, URSH: THE “I” IN “IM”

Ezra sent the above. I’m not sure where he got it, but wouldn’t be surprised if he made it.
FRIENDPPRECIATION STATS #245: EZRA ACE
FRIENDS SINCE: 2001 (2002?)
ROAD TRIPS: 1
One March, a few years ago, Ezra and I took a road trip: Nevada, New Mexico, Texas and Louisana. He was an affable driving partner, a formidable mixtape compiler (although, suspiciously, I seem to recall listening only to Blood of Abraham… 100 times in a row…) We had the same poorly accomodated vegetarian food needs. I remember eating a lot of melted cheese. Particularly in Texas. In Louisiana, I remember being afraid of getting murdered at night while we slept – it was the spring of the Louisiana State University serial killer and the low light of swamps cast unfamiliar shadows. I remember a grey morning, sitting on a bench, drinking a cup of chicory, looking out across the flatness of the Mississippi River as it lulled. It’s true, you can’t (or couldn’t?) see across to the other end. Endless. I don’t think we spoke as we sat there, looking upon it. Now I will tell you it was for solemnity, for reverence, for the idea of what might happen and what did occur. But in truth, our silence was based on the fact that I am nigh incapable of speech before morning coffee.

this performance is phenomenal. 1964, man…
I remember our hotel room in New Orleans was wallpapered with fleur de lis, but that we spent the first night in a bar on an aftermath-empty Bourbon street, two fortuitous days after Mardi Gras had ended, dodging straggled-behind pukers and sidestepping gullywashers littered with plastic beads and streamers, and drinking blended, chilled concoctions from hurricane glasses. We spent our days walking around in the heat, looking at architecture in the fancy parts of the city. Just walking, thinking about shutters and pointy wrought iron fences. Every stoop lorded by a cat. We walked outside of the fancy parts and the cats weren’t so many there, or at least they weren’t hanging around outside. The last day in NOLA before we took off for Texas the humidity painted the land in a grey-yellow – that area of the country has the strangest light – and we finally found a good old graveyard – a city of the dead – St. Louis # 1 on Basin Street. We parked the car outside an abandoned building – hung around for a minute so Ezra could examine the font etched into every part of the glass. (Designers!) Marie Laveaux was buried there but we didn’t know it. We found her grave marked with pencil XXXs and a stake nearby, and scary angel-baby statues with eyes bleeding rust or covered, terrifyingly, with hoods.
PS Let’s get Obama elected.