2 AM Moon and the Tie That Binds Us To Our Homes

My Paw Paw had a few decks of Squeezers cards when I was a kid.  I probably learned most of the card games I know on a pack of Squeezers.  The picture side had two bulldogs, straining at their chains, each attached to a doghouse. At the bottom of the card it read, "There is a tie that binds us to our homes."  I still have those cards, mostly because I'm a sentimentalist and I save things that are important to me.  Especially family things.  Not everyone that's from New Orleans played with a deck of Squeezers cards, but all of them understand the tie that binds us to this home.  New Orleans has a strange magic about her. Strangers come to visit and are often enchanted, never again to leave.  Natives who venture to move across state lines in pursuit of sandy beaches or mountains will inevitably feel the pull, like a riptide in the Gulf of Mexico, pulling us back home to her briny, humid shores.

Near the end of 2020 I was inspired to put together another book of poetry, culled from the last ten years of my writings.  My first book, I Wandered From New Orleans was first published in October of 2010 and it included works that spanned a greater period of time. From my own perspective, I feel the two books together are a coming of age story.  I see my own continuing evolution as a human as well as the inevitable patterns that repeat.  It's an interesting process, to look at one's self through the lens of time.  I can say I have come a long way, and I still have a fair journey ahead.  There is always so much to learn.

I discovered that even when I journal for myself, I sometimes write cryptically.  In retrospect, I don't always recall exactly what I was talking about because of how I describe things symbolically and less directly.  I'm always in awe of poets like R.M. Drake, who can write conversationally and have such a great impact with their words.  My words are often visual and symbolic, with an intent to convey layered  interpretations.

I wanted to make sure that the two books were somehow connected by more than just my name.  I like how it turned out.  Even just comparing the two covers, one could say that they are like night and day.  The cover photograph from, I Wandered From New Orleans was taken at the corner of Esplanade Avenue and Bayou Road.  My favorite unknown ancestor lived at the corner of Bayou Road and North Broad, a number of blocks down the street.  It was because of this, my appreciation for the Peace Monument, and the fact that Bayou Road is the oldest road in the city of New Orleans, that I chose this location for the photo.  The cover for 2 AM Moon is designed in layers.  If one looks closely, there are stars, behind the stars there is a map of New Orleans from 1854.  The Mississippi River is near the bottom where the moon is reflecting on the water in an unconventional perspective.  Esplanade Road runs from bottom to top of the cover, between the two O's in 2 AM Moon.  At the very top of the cover, Bayou Road crosses Esplanade on the map at the same location where the photograph was taken for the first book cover.

I don't know if anyone else will find this kind of intentional weirdness to be interesting, but I feel like it's just more layers of hidden meaning, perhaps akin to my fascination with secret compartments and all things standing hidden in plain sight.

I feel it is important to pay tribute in some small way to those who have come before me, not only my ancestors, but the community, the people of the city.  Historically, the people who lived and worked together to make New Orleans into the cultural melting pot we all know and love, and miss.  No one knows what it means to miss New Orleans more than we do, and I'm missing her spirit right now.

Thank you for stopping by!

Signed copies of my books 2 AM Moon and I Wandered From New Orleans are currently For Sale at my website, as well as a discounted book bundle package.

The Kindle version, or unsigned books may be purchased at Amazon.

Walking the Fringe

I broke my foot almost two months ago.  The last couple of years have been a whirlwind of change and new beginnings.  For instance, I ate guacamole... this is actually a big deal.  There have been lots of changes.  One of the less savory changes was the loss of my old website, The Green Dragon.  The domain wasn't renewed and it was sold to someone else, who is not interested in selling it back to me.  This August would have made 10 years.

I'm still going to celebrate ten years in August, because I'm still here and I'm still making new and unusual things on my new website, Fringe Walkers Studio.  The broken foot gave me the time off I needed to build all this up and I'm just waiting for the search engines to find me all over again.  I thought I would use this space to talk about what is available on my site.  Hopefully some new faces will run across these curious products and come check them out.

The number one thing I have that fascinates people?  The antique reproduction Vampire Hunting Kit, to be sure.  It has a video on YouTube and a Facebook fan page, which you can locate by visiting my site.  I think it's the most interesting and complicated thing I've ever designed and created.  The items within came from all over the world.  Hard to find herbs, seeds and roots, tools, stakes, candles... even strike anywhere matches.  Would you believe those are practically illegal now?  This IS a new kit, an antique reproduction, but it looks old... that's the whole point behind the design.  Most people that build new kits buy a box at Hobby Lobby and fill it with store bought items.  That's why they are so much cheaper than my kit.  But I digress...

Other fun things I love to make?  Vampire Stakes and Magic Wands.  In ten years I have created hundreds of these and they have made their way around the world to their new owners.  I love doing a good job and receiving emails from happy clients.  It really makes my day, and it makes this job so much more worthwhile when it is appreciated.

Walnut Wood Magic Wand

Pecan and Walnut Druid Sticks

Purpleheart Mini Coffin Tobacco Pipes

Custom Vampire Stake

I thought I'd share some pictures while I'm talking about these things I love to do.  The Magic Wand on the left is made from Walnut.  It has a really nice curly pattern.




The Pecan and Walnut Druid Sticks are an example of a basic set of sticks.  I've had extremely fancy and beautiful Druid Sticks made from exotic woods.



 These guys are made from Purpleheart.  They are not very large.  They can fit easily in your pocket and you can look as cool as you please smoking your tobacco from these.






 This Vampire Stake has been on  my mind for a long time.  I always thought it would look really cool to have a square pointed end and a turned handle.  This stake meets and exceeds the expectations I had when I first thought about the design.  This one is available on my website.

Coffin Shaped Novelty Sign

This is the newest line at Fringe Walkers Studio, Novelty Signs.  These have proven to be very fun and they have gone over really well.  There are lots of new ideas about to hit the Studio's website, including a lot of regional New Orleans items.  This sign is for an imaginary Victorian Era shop called the Spinster Sisters.  They provide widows with all the essentials required by Victorian Mourning Customs of the day including hair and jet jewelry and the heavy black mourning attire that widows were forced to wear.  Times have changed, but you can remember them with this sign!  They have a "brother store," Graves Brothers, Undertakers.  Both available at the Fringe Walkers website.




 Thanks for stopping by!  If this little blog piqued your curiosity, swing on over to the studio and have a look around!  I am always happy to discuss custom designs that you might have in mind.  It's also our motto... Turning dreams into reality!

The Goddess Angizia

I resurrected my old blog, not knowing exactly what I would add or when I would add something after all this time. (The last entry was January, 2011.)  It seems the day I attach it to my new website, I have something interesting to report.  I first came up with the name ‘Fringe Walker’ in a rant blog that I occasionally contribute to.  I found Fringe Walker to be pretty cool, so my first thought was, what a cool band name.  Fringe Walkers.  Well, that didn’t really pan out, but during the time I was set on using the name, I went looking online for some cool Fringe Worthy photos and ran across a photo of a statue with part of the face missing.  I assumed that it was some ancient Renaissance piece that someone Photoshopped.  I still believed that until today, when I was doing research to find out exactly who the statue was and where it came from.

I had always believed the statue to be a man.  It looked like a man and it had seemingly short hair and wearing some sort of tunic.  I was endlessly scrolling through photos of Renaissance Statues until I typed in, out of frustration, half-face statue.  What I discovered was shocking… and cool as hell.  The photo that I used for the Fringe Walkers page was originally taken by an Italian photographer named Mimmo Jodice; one of the masters of Italian contemporary photography. 

“The name of the piece is Alba Fucens Angizia, 2008 and it was originally presented in a show called Figure del mare (Figures from the Sea.)  This show was composed of more than forty works and organized in collaboration with the Municipality of Cinisello Balsamo.  It gathered the latest and deepest reflections of the artist and entwined two key themes: the idea of the sea as a vacuum, a no-scape place.  The silence and lingering time is conceived as a reaction to the chaos of contemporary life and the persistence of the past into the present.  The representation of fragments of sculptured bodies and faces as left overs from the classical age in the Mediterranean civilization, which the sea itself has been in charge of preserving, reshaping, and finally returning to us.”

As I continued to look for information about this mysterious flawed statue that had returned to civilization after her long rest in the sea, I was delighted to discover that she is the Goddess Angizia. Angizia was a snake deity, famous for Her knowledge of healing herbs.  She was famed for Her ability to heal those who had been poisoned, especially those bitten by snakes, and She was said to have the power to kill serpents through spoken charms.  Unless I am mistaken, (from all the Italian translations with Google) the statue was discovered in Alba Fucens, in the region of Abruzzo, Italy, which was roughly the homeland of the Marsi, a pre-christian Pagan tribe that worshiped the Goddess Angizia.  To this day, the region of Abruzzo is still associated with snakes, epitomized by the Feast of the Serpari. This feast is first mentioned in medieval times, though it is likely far older, and is celebrated in the village of Cocullo on the first Thursday in May.

All that being said… I hope that the Goddess Angizia is not distressed that her ancient face is gracing the pages of my website.  I feel honored to have discovered both her identity and her photographer.  I never would have guessed that an image I suspected to be nothing more than a simple digital rendering would actually prove to be a photograph of an ancient pagan snake goddess statue resurrected from the Mediterranean Sea.  I live for these moments.

Check out my website, www.fringewalkers.com

Vampires of the world, beware!

Yes, I  have Vampires on the brain.  I have spent most of my free time lately working on my newest project, the Vampire Hunting Kit.  Now some of you may balk at this, but Vampire Kits go back to the 1800's where they were sold to travellers who might be heading into questionable territory, especially areas with rumors of Vampiric activity.  These kits were fantastic... each with diverse and yet similar implements of destruction.  The most common kits included the crucifix, rosary holy water, garlic and of course a stake or two.  Ones that were more involved contained black powder pistols that shot silver bullets as well as scary syringes with long rabies treatment type needles.  My kit won't have a black powder pistol, but there may be something silver inside... 

The kit also has a story.  The Vampyre Hunter's Guide, which is included with the kit, was written by Thornton Barrett Conway in the 1800's and a mysterious letter was discovered in one of the kit's secret compartments that dated back to a time before Mr. Conway wrote his book of tips and instructions for Vampire Hunting.  No one knows for certain the identity of the man that wrote this letter, but it is certain that the words recorded on its paper were the last ones he would ever write.

As you may see, I have spent most of my time focused on the kit, assembling the items necessary to include in the kit, drying out my own herbs, trying to get the courage to sneak into a Catholic church to fill a vial with holy water....  That's still on the list of things to do.  So many little details that I, myself, feel a little mad with the entire process.  I'll be ready soon to build the box and that is when the fun begins.  Then... it won't be long at all.  So, you Vampires of the world beware!  Into every generation.... ah, you know the rest...

www.thegreendragon.us/Vampire-Stakes          www.thegreendragon.us/vampirehuntingkit

www.tracyconway.com

Ophiuchus, or not to Ophiuchus?

For those who do not follow or believe in Astrology, this post will have little meaning for you.  For those of us who believe in planetary influences and traits that have been handed down to us by the stars and the alignment of the sun, you may be in the same boat I am tonight.  All my life I have considered myself a Sagittarius.  It's what the books said, what the horoscopes said (which I actually dont' put any value into), and it's what the t-shirt said that I wore when I went on that long ago crabbing trip with  my Granny, Paw Paw and Uncle Jody down in Delacroix when I was seven.  All these years I've identified with the archer, agreed that Sagittariuses were disorganized and loved to travel.  Now today, I find out that I am one of the many displaced Sag's shifted into this new and virtually unknown new sign and old constellation placed right between Scorpius and Sagittarius on the horizon, Ophiuchus.  I think this is worse than merely having your sign shifted one way or another, I'm now a whole new unknown, the 13th sign. 

What do they know about this Ophiuchus anyway?  Hard to spell, harder to pronounce; the first human in the zodiac, a healer, a doctor who is destined to achieve great heights.  Great.  Is he a fire sign?  Is he mutable or fixed?  Is he ruled by Jupiter?  I'm at a loss here.  Thanks to the ancient Babylonians that cast out the 13th sign around 3,000 years ago, now today in 2010 we're all asking, what the ----?  I'm not surprised they didn't want the 13th sign, they didn't want the 13th month either so we end up with the blue moon every year or so.  Maybe now they'll put the 13th floor back in skyscrapers.  The most dreaded part of all this, in my opinion, is that Ophiuchus is seen as the 'end of the world'  or 'doomesday' sign.  Should the events occur in 2012 that have been spoken of and some black hole / planetary disturbance begins, it will open directly in the middle of the Ophiuchus constellation.  How ominous is that?  The 13th sign, where the 13th month should be along with tidings of a potential black hole disaster that may have last visited earth when the dinosaurs were mysteriously wiped out.  None of it bides well with me and I'm wondering what it all portends.  There are some who wouldn't make much of this new information at all, there are some, who were Sagittarians before today that will always be Sagittarians.  Does it make a difference if we were born when the sun and stars were still in alignment with the Sagittarius sun, or will it begin with those who were born after the shift.  When was this elusive shift?  Who will rewrite the books and how will they know what they are talking about?  If the books and influences must be rewritten, than all signs will change.  To make room for a 13th sign, then aspects of the other 12 must be shifted proportionately for all 13 to be accurate.  It seems to make sense to me that way.  Again, who will determine which traits fall under which specific alignments, should we go with the Japanese who have always held onto the 13 signs and see what their astrologers have to say?  Should we all travel to Stonehenge and Avebury, sit inside the stone circles and see what the wheeling stars overhead have to contribute to these new factors? 

I'd like to sit in the stone cirle of Stonehenge before the mouth of Ophiuchus opens up to swallow us whole.  None of us know for sure what will happen on the winter solstice of 2012, we can't say for sure on that day or in the days that will follow.  If the government won't admit to the accidental dispersant of biochemical agents that murdered all those birds in Alabama, Arkansas, Mississippi and Louisiana do we really believe that they will tell us that a great black hole is opening on our way to death and destruction?  In the words of a song written by an old friend, "I'll see you all in hell, it will soon be 2012 I hope you packed a bag, why don't you tell a friend?"

So for those of you who woke up this morning with a new "identity," do you have anything to contribute to this story?  Leave your comments below if you like.  I'm sure I'm not the only one that feels a little lost.  Especially all the new Ophiuchus' out there... we're like the blank slate in the universe of stars, even though Ophiuchus has his hand in the milky way.

www.tracyconway.com  -  www.thegreendragon.us

It's easy being Green

Well, the new year has come and gone.  Another of my resolutions was to begin taking my woodworking career seriously.  By this I mean my online business, The Green Dragon.  Over the past few days I have turned out six brand new Vampire Stakes, so I'm off to a fairly good start.  I started The Green Dragon website in 2005, two weeks before Hurricane Katrina came and ripped up this region by its roots.  My career in woodworking goes back much farther than that.  If you've read any of my previous blogs, you will know that I lived homeless in Atlanta and could not find a decent job.  At that time I had only worked for fast food joints, a brief stint at Disney World and two years at Terror On Church Street, a year round haunted house in Orlando.  What I'm trying to say is that I had no skills.  These jobs all placed together in the experience section of a job application do not exactly speak of credibility.  It was at this time of despair, once I retreated home to Louisiana, that I came up with the brilliant idea that I would build guitars for a living.  It sounds fine in theory, but in practice, no professional guitar builder is willing to take a clueless girl into a shop who has only studied band saws and table saws in the context of a textbook, let alone teach her the fine secrets of the craft.  In the end, I began looking into custom furniture shops, the concept is there, same tools, learn the trade, build guitars!  This was in 1995.  An older man by the name of Hugh Hogan took me on as an apprentice in his shop.  He gave me a strong foundation in the craft and let me borrow tools to work on projects at home in my spare time.  He had already apprenticed his two sons who had both gone on to have woodworking careers (One built a table for Sir Elton John) and he taught many of his grandchildren.  In so many ways he was like a grandfather to me and I really owe everything I have learned over the years to his willingness to take a chance on this textbook kid. 

My second lucky break was getting a job in Greenville, South Carolina with Michael McDunn.  He is, by trade, what one would call a fine woodworker.  He builds fantastically imaginative custom furniture and has an art gallery in the front of his business.  The collective name for this venture is Michael P McDunn, Woodworking studio and art gallery.  This man is incredible and it was from him that I learned to fine tune my trade, as he taught me to fine tune my chisels and scrapers to work perfectly.  We used hand tools along with the standard power tools and created works of art from slabs of trees, tree trunks, found wood and amazing lumber from those southern Appalachians.  I can't begin to say how much Mike influenced me over the four years that I worked for him.  He took a rough, green carpenter and taught me how to fine tune, to make things absolutely perfect and to restore an antique piece to perfection, even if it arrived in pieces inside a large box.  There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about Mike and his simple wisdom.  "Bit by bit," he used to tell me when a job seemed overwhelming.  Along with  my personal favorite, even if it's not his, "No good deed ever goes unpunished."  I can't say either how many timeless truths I learned in that studio on Rutherford Road, how many of his friends I became close with or how many amazing artists I met that had their artwork placed in his gallery.  I always feel like Mike is looking over my shoulder to make sure that I am doing a job of utmost perfection.  That inspiration has never been lost on me, although I have worked for employers since my time with him that do not find this type of work ethic to be of any use whatsoever.  It's really disheartening when you want to give your all and someone really, truly wants you to do as little as possible to make it right.  Some jobs are better left behind.

I don't know what Mike thinks about what I have chosen to use my talents for since he spent so many years helping me to improve upon them.  I'm sure that he doesn't want Vampire Stakes in his Gallery, no matter how beautiful they turn out.  There are a few things I may inquire about when I complete them, but that time may come later.  Although I love working with furniture, especially antique restoration, I truly love doing works of a smaller scale, especially wood turning.  One of Mike's friends and colleagues, Tom Zumbach, who is a wood turner by trade, once told me that he loved wood turning because it was "instant gratification."  There were not countless hours spent putting together the case for a piece of furniture, building the drawers, adding drawer fronts, finishing the job, sanding it, spraying it again, sanding it, spraying it AGAIN then adding the hardware, whew.  Throw a rough block onto the lathe and in an hour or so, (less if you are Tom) you have something that is finished!  I really like that concept.  Many of the things I do are not so simple, but I enjoy delving into this craft that is almost as old as time itself.  To take pieces from a tree that a neighbor cut down, to dry it out over the course of years and then turn it into something useful is one of my favorite things to do.  I am also a fan of using recycled and reclaimed wood.  In many ways, I have grown into the name, The Green Dragon.  Not only do I find unwanted wood and hoard it for future projects, I now use less harmful water based finishes and I have very little waste.  It's actually easy being green.
I only wish that my love for wood could sustain me financially through life so that I could continue on with something that truly makes me happy.   Perhaps one day I will find a niche that is well received enough to offer such a commitment.  Perhaps my book of poems will hit the best sellers list!  For now, I am content with my Vampire Stakes, Magic Wands, Druid Sticks, ancient games and other woodworks that aren't quite as odd.  I never did build a guitar, but I did build a very nice Ashiko Drum last year.  Do feel free to visit my woodworking website to see what it is all about.  I also enjoy building custom pieces for anyone who requests it.  Strangely enough, I have never written about my woodworking, though I have written many of my poems about other topics while inside the workshop.  Go figure, it's bound to happen one day. 

Until then, my book, I Wandered from New Orleans is still available on my author's website, among other places, and my woodworking items are on display and for sale at The Green Dragon's website.  Pop in and tell me what you think!  Cheers!

Auld Lang Syne

It's interesting to see where your mind takes you when it is lulled back into familiar routine.  Today at my job I had the old song, 'Auld Lang Syne' stuck in my head.  At least, I had the melody and some of the words.  I decided to look it up, to learn a little about this 'Auld' song to see what it's origins were.  I was surprised to find that it dated back at least to the 1600's in Scotland.  A gentleman named Robert Burns found some of these old verses and translated them into the song we recognize today.  Of course Burns' version has been Americanized, almost brutally some would say.  I prefer Burn's version especially when provided with the definitions of certain questionable words and phrases.

The main idea that I gathered from this song, and why it is so popular on New Year's is the sentiment that we should honor and recognize old friends and the experiences that we have shared together.  We should be thankful for those times from long ago and honor them in the moment, and all year long and for a lifetime!  How easily we forget the connections we have created with each other, how thin become the ties that once bound us together in friendship.  There are many friends who are taken from us cruelly, there are some friends we have let pass us by and out of our lives.  I have friends like this.  Friends who have drifted, who have allowed a misunderstanding or unkind moment to fester into the distance of years.  Time spent apart with a complete communication breakdown.  Because of this particular misunderstanding to which I am referring, I do not like to speak of politics and I tread carefully around topics of religion.  We all have our differences and it is in our best interest to honor the opinions of our friends and not judge them or call them rednecks in a social networking forum for not supporting certain presidential candidates.  I still can't believe that I lost a longtime friend over political differences and pride.  For this friend I wrote a poem that is in my new book, I Wandered from New Orleans called 'Water Cools the Earth.'  She has never read it and I no longer believe that she ever will.  Still, it serves as a reminder to me to speak to someone when I would rather turn away.  To resolve a small difference before it becomes a massive, destructive sinkhole of despair.  This is why we are here on this earth, isn't it?  To build our relationships, to inevitably make mistakes and learn from them to strengthen our ties with each other and ourselves.  To swallow our pride and know that an apology isn't coming, take the high road.  Most of us always speak of New Year's Resolutions; quitting some bad habit, or starting a new, productive project.  This year, I am including in my own resolutions, to work on communication, to continue to listen and communicate real feelings and to ignore the ass holes that crop up like unwanted weeds in a beautiful garden.  Ok, that was harsh... Was it?  Hell, I don't know what to do about those ass holes.  I'll cross that Piranha pit when I come to it. 

In the meantime, I would like to leave everyone with Happy Wishes for the New Year!  May you enjoy it and spend it with your loved ones and good friends.   With this wish, I leave you with the 'auld' and new versions of  the Scottish song, 'Auld Lang Syne'   Sing it with fervor, with friends and a good ale!  Cheers and Happy New Year!

Auld Lang Syne - Robert Burns translation in 1788 from ancient Scottish verses.
Burns Original			Standard English Translation
Auld Lang Syne Chorus. And for auld lang syne, my jo, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne, 1. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' auld lang syne. 2. And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp! And surely I'll be mine! And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. 3. We twa hae run about the braes And pu'd the gowans fine; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin auld lang syne. 4. We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn, Frae mornin' sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin auld lang syne. 5. And there's a hand, my trusty fiere! And gie's a hand o' thine! And we'll tak a right guid willy waught, For auld lang syne. Meaning of unusual words: Auld lang syne = Former days and friends jo = dear stoup = tankard gowans = daisies braid = broad Gude willie waught = friendly draught Visit Tracy's website for more information on I Wandered from New Orleans: Poems from the South.  Auld Lang Syne from \"It\'s a Wonderful Life\"			Old Long Past Chorus. And for old long past, my joy (sweetheart), For old long past, We will take a cup of kindness yet, For old long past, Should old acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, And days of old long past. And surely you will pay for your pint-vessel! And surely I will pay for mine! And we will take a cup of kindness yet, For old long past. We two have run about the hillsides And pulled the wild daisies fine; But we have wandered many a weary foot Since old long past. We two have paddled in the stream, From morning sun till noon; But seas between us broad have roared Since old long past. And there is a hand, my trusty friend! And give me a hand of yours! And we will take a right good-will drink, For old long past.

...if only in my dreams

It's that time of year again, the crazy Christmas shopping rush.  I live by a mall, so that's always evident to  me as soon as it begins.  The holidays don't just bring traffic and Salvation Army bell ringers, if you're like me, it's a time to reflect on family gatherings and the ones who won't be here to celebrate with you as they once did.  Like poetry, music and songs can be interpreted in a variety of ways.  For some reason this year, "I'll be home for Christmas" has taken on a whole new meaning for me.  Why this year?  Why in this way?  I don't really know, but for some reason when I first heard it this year, I could only think of family members that wouldn't be home for Christmas.  They would be here, 'only in my dreams,' you could say.
I think about my Auntie who inspired me to be a better person, I would say tolerant, but tolerance implies that there is something wrong and you're just not saying anything about how you really feel.  She taught me to be accepting of certain differences and a few simple words changed my outlook forever.  We had argued about a small portrait of the Virgin Mary that she wanted to give me, I told her I didn't want it, that it didn't  mean anything to me.  Finally she said, "It means something to me."  I took the portrait and have applied this simple wisdom to so many aspects of my life.  I think of Auntie at Christmas and I wish I could go sit next to her and talk to her again.  In much the same way the main character saved and cataloged family memorabilia in the movie "Everything is Illuminated," I write because I do not wish to forget.  Each piece I write memorializes some event, a feeling or just a significant moment.

'Please have snow and mistletoe..."  My father's family always had a big Christmas Eve party.  I can remember my Mammy always prepared a special meal for me because I wouldn't eat the typical food on the table.  I'm still as picky, as you get older people do not wish to accomodate your pickiness.  I usually leave Thanksgiving and Christmas 'feasts' hungry.  Regardless, those old gatherings stick with me this time of year, I don't need the ghost of Christmas past to guide me, I am already there.  Looking out over the rooftops of a porch in Mid-City, to the sky where they said Santa Claus was flying.  Those were magical times with magical people.  Never take for granted the impact a few simple words will have on a child through its lifetime.

For now, I'm remembering the ones who can't be here this year, my Auntie, Paw Paw, Mammy, Uncle T, Aunt Mildred, Nenny and Nez, Aunt Rae Ann, Aunt Cleo.  I wish you could all be home for Christmas in the way that I remember; for now, you will all remain only in my dreams.  Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas.

I Wandered from New Orleans is available at my website, Amzaon.com, as a NOOKbook and on Smashwords.  Read the new review by Shannon Yarbrough at the LL Book Review

At 40, you eat Tombstone cake

So I've finally made it to 40.  That seems like such an impossible age to be when I can recall taking the Peter Pan oath in 6th grade.  Time keeps slipping away.  So yesterday was spent in the French Quarter in New Orleans, one of my favorite places to be.  I got some of my books into another book store, but the main purpose of the visit was for fun, relaxing and reflecting.  We walked around down Frenchmen and then Decatur Street, past Jackson Square and the coach drivers.  Finally it was time for a beer.  You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find a Newcastle and a Guinness.  I was terribly disappointed that Laffite's Blacksmith Shop didn't have these brews, so we steered a course for Decatur again and found Pravda.  Now I first discovered Pravda the year we marched with the Krewe Of Pirates during Mardi Gras.  The inside of the bar is quaint and dim, towards the back of the bar is a fabulous courtyard with a view of the distant rooftops.  This means little to Pirates on Mardi Gras day, but yesterday was already a slow day for the Quarter, so the Pravda courtyard was candlelit and deserted so I thoroughly enjoyed my Guinness while Clarice enjoyed her Newcastle.  Pravda is also the only bar I know of that has an actual working Absinthe drip fountain.  This is classic and though I didn't get one yesterday, I plan to get one on Mardi Gras.  I have always wanted to have an Absinthe made the old fashioned way, a shot of Absinthe over a sugar cube suspended over the glass with a traditional Absinthe spoon.  Then the spigot is turned ever so slightly on the Absinthe drip fountain to send small drops of ice cold water over the sugar cube, dissolving it into the glass below.  This was first done at The Old Absinthe House on Bourbon Street sometime in the late 1700's.  Absinthe was outlawed even before probibition hit in the 20's because of the Wormwood.  The neat thing about the Absinthe is that it isn't just the alcohol that is getting you drunk.  It is infused with many different types of herbs, each with their own specific properties.  Wormwood was known to cause hallucinations and disorientation.  Poe was a fan of Absinthe as well as Van Gogh, in fact, Van Gogh cut off his ear while under the influence of Absinthe.  In the last year, Wormwood was again added back into the brand 'Absente,' though I assume that it is either a distilled version of the wormwood or there is far less of it added to the bottle by volume.

Ah Mardi Gras, I shall have a drink from the Absinthe fountain for the first time.  I have a bottle and a half here at the house.  My method is to pour the shot over the sugar cube, cut the lights and set it on fire before dousing it with the ice water.  Moulin Rouge style.  Some disagree with this  method saying that it burns off some of the alcohol, which seems to make logical sense.  It still looks really cool when you do it, especially if the fire only burns the cube and does not drop into the glass.    So... back to the Guinness.
We left Pravda and had Beignets and Coffee at Cafe Du Monde as we always do then headed over to the home of two new friends that we met at the New Orleans Book Fair.  JT Blatty is a writer, photographer and artist.  She was one of the volunteers who helped clean up the oil soaked Pelicans that fell victim to BP's careless oil gusher.  She documented the process of the recovery with her photographs and focused  mainly on the release of the birds back into the wild.  It is truly beautiful work.  She also published a book called 'The Who Dat Nation' that documents the players and the fans through unique, storytelling photographs.  After spending many hours talking and sharing stories much farther into the night than we realized, we made our way back across the lake.

40 really isn't the end of the world.  It just means eating tombstone cake, black candles and jokes about canes and wheelchairs.  Maybe when I'm 80, for now, I'm content to remain in my Peter Panish fantasy, growing up only as much as I need to and remembering that youth is all a state of mind.

One of the best birthday presents I received was an amazing review of my book at the LL Book Review, you can read it here!  Shannon did a great job and I couldn't be more pleased with his perspective on the book.  I also added a page of links to my website so that New Orleans area locals can buy the book around town at local book stores and shops.  I also added a page with links to showcase some of my artistic friends and their amazing websites.  As always, you can find my book at http://www.tracyconway.com/ and also delve into some background information on the book with additional photos that did not appear inside.    Thanks for coming along!  See you next time.

Milk Studio, down home N'awlins artists

So we were on another book run through the French Quarter and Uptown today.  I left books at the Maple Street Book Shop, a fine book store, and at Milk Studio on Decatur Street.  Milk Studio has been around for over five years and counting, the owners are Mindy and Dave, two N'awlins locals with a flare for the creative.  If you've ever heard the Benny Grunch and the Bunch's song 'Ain't dere no more' and you feel a craving for old New Orleans places that are lost forever, you should head down to Milk Studio and stock up on icons from the past.  One of their hottest items are the ceramic coasters with pictures of memorable and lost, but not forgotten, businesses and products of the past and the present.  Barq's Root Beer, Godchaux's Department Store, K&B, McKenzie's Pastry Shoppes, Schwegmann's Grocery Store, the Bali Hai, Pontchartrain Beach, Shakey's Pizza, New Orleans Water Meter covers, the original New Orleans Saints logo... the list goes on and on and on.  You can find these logos on the ceramic coasters, and some of them on t shirts, not to mention the 'Save My Wetlands' underwear, ooh lala.  There are also candles of all sorts, framed photographs and artwork as well as, ahem, books by local authors. I'm sure I'm leaving some things out that will surprise you as you peruse their amazing shop space on 1309 Decatur Street in the Quarter. 

Mindy and Dave are a pair of characters.  Both New Orleans locals who found a way to keep so many places and products alive through their creative ventures.  All of the work is produced in the studio, Mindy is an accomplished graphic artist who has utilized her skills in true N'awlins fashion.  People from all over the world enjoy their products, but I think that they mean the most to those of us who remember the K&B purple or closing our eyes at the top hump of the Zephyr at Ponchartrain Beach. 

I'm very grateful to both of them for their special blend of New Orleans southern hospitality, for taking my books into their store to help with my sales and most importantly, for finding a way to make a living doing something meaningful and memorable to all us yats who just want a slice of McKenzie's Devil's Food Cake again.  The McKenzie's shirt doesn't taste nearly as good, but I'm proud to be able to wear it just the same!

Two more local shops where you can find the book:

Milk Studio - 1309 Decatur Street, New Orleans
Maple Street Book Shop - 7523 Maple Street, New Orleans

As always, you can find my book at http://www.tracyconway.com/, Amazon.com, as a NOOKbook at Barnes and Noble and at Smashwords.  Thanks and happy shopping!

Another local, independent bookstore has the book!

I managed to cross state lines and get another book into an indie bookstore!  If you're in Mississippi go and check out Bay Books on Main street.  The owner is very accomodating and she has two very cool cats that take up residence inside.  Most importantly, you can get a copy of I Wandered from New Orleans right off the shelf!  In real live bookstores in New Orleans, Mississippi and Atlanta!  It's too bad that poetry is mostly disregarded by people as being too complicated and vague.  I'm not Shakespeare, I write in a straightforward manner that basically tells a story.  It's all true life experiences, I'm still amazed as I fill out forms and papers to have my book included in different sites on the internet that there is nowhere to select 'nonfiction poetry.'  You are forced to select fiction, then add nonfiction as a second category, which would probably confuse most people.  The latest was Barnes & Noble, which is more than a little crazy.  Here is the list, again, including Bay Books of places to get the book from a bookshelf:

Bay Books - 131 Main Street, Bay St. Louis, MS  228-463-2688
Garden District Book Shop - 2727 Prytania Street, New Orleans
Librairie Bookshop - 823 Chartres Street, New Orleans
Beckham's Bookshop - 228 Decatur Street, New Orleans
Faubourg Marigny Art, Books, Music - 600 Frenchmen Street, New Orleans
Louisiana Music Factory - 210 Decatur Street, New Orleans
Charis Books and More - 1189 Euclid Avenue, NE Atlanta, aka Little Five Points

That's my list so far, next time I can get to New Orleans I hope to add a few more stores.  In other news, in about 30 minutes I have been invited by my longtime Terror On Church Street friend, Greg Hall aka The Funky Werepig, to do a guest spot on his online radio show,  it's amazing how something like that could make your palms sweat.  In a Coyote Ugly kind of way, I always have that 7th grade fear of my recital of 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.'  The blackout reading, just like the time on stage when the band was playing and I forgot the lyrics.  It's something about being watched.  Call me crazy.  Even if it's only listening.  I shall persevere in the name of shameless self promotion.

So anyway.  If you're local and out and about, you know where to find the book!  If you're not local and you wish you were, you can always get a signed copy on my website at www.tracyconway.com.  Also available in eBook format at Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble.com and Smashwords!  Groove on!

An introduction to the Indigo Girls

Just listened to the Indigo Girls' new CD "Happy Holly Days" and I have to say it was pretty good.  This is coming from someone of course who isn't a big fan of Christmas music.  If the Indigo Girls put out a CD there is no way that I can pass it up.  The girls have been a huge inspiration ever since I first heard them in Peni Lotoza's car after we got out of work at Terror on Church Street back in '93.  'Blood and Fire' was the first song I had ever heard and though many had tried to introduce me to them previously, it was that night with Peni and Amy Ray that started the fire.  Peni has since passed from this world, to the sadness of many.  In the book there is a piece written for her called 'Comedy and Tragedy.'  She was a happy and jovial person with a terrific laugh and a kind heart.  We all miss her very much.

I went out after that night and bought all of the Indigo Girls' CD's, at that time, Rites of Passage was their newest album.  I remember the day that Swamp Ophelia was released and I first heard Amy wail on 'Touch Me Fall.'  Those two women have written some amazingly diverse songs in their career.  From acoustic folk, to rock n roll to Amy even writing a semi hip hop song on her solo album, Didn't it Feel Kinder.  Amy and Emily inspired me to want to  move to Atlanta back in '94 when I needed a change from Orlando life.  "There'll be cider up near Helen off the roadside and boiled peanuts in a bag to warm your fingers and the smoke from the chimney meets its maker in the sky.  With the song that winter wrote his melody lingers, and there's somethin' 'bout the Southland in the springtime, where the waters flow with confidence and reason." --Emily Saliers 

It was this desire for change, the desire to see Helen, GA and the need to see Little Five Points where their career first took off that sent me shuttling to Atlanta with hardly any money and no plans except to see what happens when we get there.  If the best laid plans go wrong, I now know how it works out when you have no plan.  Not that it was all for naught, I wouldn't change that experience for anything in this world.  I thoroughly enjoyed the women's writers groups at Charis Books and More in Little Five.  Three copies of my book will soon be sitting on the shelves at Charis and, to  me, that is one of the biggest accomplishments I have had so far.  Charis is important to me, most  of the poems about Atlanta were written right there in the square across the street from  Charis.  Though I walked in the footsteps of Amy Ray, through stories from strangers on the street, I was never fortunate enough to meet her and Emily until they came to Tipitina's in New Orleans.  That was an amazing day and I'll never forget it!  I was inspired to include excerpts from four songs that seemed to fit in with my book at the start of each chapter.  I was very lucky that their manager, Russell Carter was able to grant permission to use those lyrics.  It was another  milestone in the creation of the book.  I have always been inspired by the Indigo Girls and I know that I always will be.   Another poem from the book, 'Tchoupitoulas and Napoleon' is about the concert and our Line Crew that are always waiting in line hours before the show is scheduled to start.  There's nothing better than a soundcheck through the front doors of Tipitina's, except the actual concert from the front row with a group of friends!
If you don't know the Indigo Girls, look them up and at least download some songs from them.  Better yet, buy a CD to get acquainted with them.  If you are an Indigo Girls fan, kick off your shoes and do a little jig to 'Get Out the Map!'  How can you bear to keep your feet still when you hear those songs?

Looking for a copy of I Wandered from New Orleans?  It's available at my website, signed of course, it's also available in eBook format at Barnes and Noble (NOOKbook), Amazon (Kindle) and at Smashwords.

My Books are on New Orleans Bookstore shelves! My take on Parasol's

Had a great day today!  I first sent off three books that are on their way to Charis Books and More in Little Five Points, Atlanta.  Then we drove down to New Orleans to hit some of the indie bookstores to see if I could get I Wandered from New Orleans onto some real bookstore shelves.  It was a great success!  Some books were bought outright, some were placed on consignment.  Brilliant day!  So, for  my NOLA peeps and pops who want to check it out firsthand and pick up a holiday copy or two, or three... Hey, the book might want to take home friends.  You never know.  Anyway.  Here is the list of New Orleans bookstores and shops, so far, where you can pick up a copy, locally!! 

Garden District Book Shop - 2727 Prytania Street, NOLA
Librairie Bookshop - 823 Chartres Street
Beckham's Bookshop - 228 Decatur Street
Faubourg Marigny Art, Books, Music - 600 Frenchmen Street
Louisiana Music Factory - 210 Decatur Street

So it was a fun, cold day spent walking the streets in trenchcoats going door to door.  I met some fantastic and very kind people.  Getting out of the house once in a while can restore your faith in humanity.  At the end of the day I was famished and we were on St. Charles Avenue so I got a shrimp po boy from Parasol's.  Now, I didn't know it when we stopped in, but Parasol's was bought out by new owners.  Apparantly the landlord offered the building to the leasing tenant and the tenant would not pay the asking price so the owner listed it on the market.  The buyers moved here from Tampa, FL and the wife is actually from New Orleans and was thrilled to be able to buy Parasol's.  There seems to be a conflict between the old leasee and the new owners, the old tenant is disgruntled (if you don't pay you can't play) and  moved his business down a few blocks. 

 Former patrons have been flashing the finger as they go by, among other things, and patrons that don't feel so politically motivated are afraid their friends will see them eating or drinking at the 'new' Parasol's.  This is crazy.  The former tenant wouldn't pay the price, someone else did.  My shrimp po boy didn't taste any worse, in fact, it may have tasted a little bit better.  These folks are not lacking in Southern hospitality.  Parasol's is now cleaner, better maintained and it seems friendlier.  I liked it before, but I don't have a problem with it now.  It's not like it isn't owned by a  'former' local or run by a yankee.  No offense to my yankee friends... 

The point is... things change for all kinds of reasons.  If the corner bar and grill changes hands, it's still the corner bar and grill.  Parasol's will still celebrate St. Patty's Day in grand Irish fashion with dancing in the streets, beer, ale and good food.   Support the new owners if you're uptown and looking for something good to eat or drink.  Give them a chance and you might be pleasantly surprised.  I was. 

Picking apples doesn't pay...

First an update on my website; at another author's request I have added a page to my website that gives details on some of the photos in the book, some photos that did not make it into the book and explanations about the meaning of the front and back covers.  Pictures and stories will be added over time as I gather them together, this is the link to that page.

And on to other musings... As much as I love New Orleans, sometimes, as always, I am ready to get in the car and start driving.  I threatened an acquaintence heading to Asheville, North Carolina that I would hide in the trunk of his car if he wouldn't let  me ride legitimately in the front seat.  I'm still here.  The longing for Asheville never goes away.  I miss the mountains and the smell of the misty green air, the sound of the rushing rivers over stone beds and the beautiful hardwoods that are losing their leaves to the mountain breeze.  Asheville!  Pack Square with the vagabonds, hippies, musicians and gypsies.  The little shops and vegetarian restauraunts (I'm not a vegetarian, but I love the people who are), the tiny flea markets crammed into old buildings, the tobacco shop that sells newspapers on the corner... Asheville.  There is no end to the love I have for that place. 

I also lived homeless in Asheville, but I was not alone that time and my van didn't break down on me.  I remember we were living in Pisgah National Forest in October, very cold.  We would take showers in the stream while there was still snow on the ground.  I know why hippies smell, it would have been better to deal with stench than bathe in that icy water.. but we did.  I was broke in Asheville too, I've spent most of my life barely getting by.  One day in Pack Square we were talking to this old guy who loved to drink, I don't remember his name, but he was one of those alcolholics you could spot a mile away because his nose was so red.  He told us there was BIG money to be made in Hendersonville picking apples.  Although this seemed too good to be true, it was better than the alternative.  Begging for change and trying to find a job without an address or a phone number.  We drove the old man out to Hendersonville bright and early the next day, prepared to  make some BIG money.  When we got there the farmer was wondering who the hell we all were.  An old drunk man, a pierced up pin cushion girl and a little short brown girl.  I'm sure we looked like a motley crew to that country farmer.  There were at least 15 to 20 big, big crates.  I mean, you could have put a Volkswagen bug and a half inside of one.  The farmer told us that we had to fill the bins. 

That day I learned that, when it comes to apples, there are peelers and juicers.  It's pretty obvious, peelers are the ones we get in the store to eat and juicers are worth less and go to the juicing factories.  We were picking juicers that day, so you could at least toss them into those bins and bruise them and it didn't matter.  I learned which ladders are used for apple picking and how fun it is to throw one into a tree with a big sack slung around your shoulder while bees are buzzing into your bag and around your head from five or six feet off the ground on a wiggly, bouncing, wooden ladder. 

We might have filled one bin in the 8 hours that we were there, the old hobo looking guy spilled beer all inside my Volkswagen, which was also  my house, and in the end we made $20 that we had to divide up among three people.  I've definately had better work days.  I never picked apples again, but I did get some interesting pictures that day (soon to be added to my website for your enjoyment) and I did write about it in my new book.  It's the very first poem, the self titled, I Wandered from New Orleans.  It's never fun being homeless, but it's less scary when you aren't all alone and your car doesn't break down.  Plus we lived in the National Forest, and even though it was bitter cold, it was a lot safer than parking on the streets in Atlanta and far more peaceful and beautiful. 
I do miss Asheville, and I miss Pack Square; I even miss Atlanta, but the last time I visited Atlanta I had enough  money to get a slice of Pizza and a drink from Fellini's, which was just spectacular.  That pizza is great even when you aren't starving to death!  I highly recommend it.

If you want to read about picking apples, Asheville, the mountains or even Atlanta, you can get a signed copy of I Wandered from New Orleans at my website or purchase the eBook and Kindle editions at Amazon.com.  If you're hungry for a slice of Fellini's Pizza, I am too!


 

Renaissance Festival Season

Renaissance Festival time is here for those of us in South Louisiana.  I made my first visit this past saturday and managed to film a sing along to The Bar Wenches Drinking Song from my book at The King's Head Tavern with a group of friends.  I have found inspiration at the Faire on many occasions.  I think the Bar Wenches song may have been the first.  That was written the year I worked for the pub owner and it was a very cold winter at the Tavern in a little hole with lots of ice and ale.  The 'song' was originally written as a jingle to bring in business because the Tavern is set out of the way of the flow of traffic.  We had a good time with the filming and it was a good day for it.

Other Renaissance Faire writings in the book include one called The Faire: En Memorium and Albright.  The Faire incorporates a few stories into one related idea.  Death is as much a part of life as living at times, especially for the living who are only left with memories and the need to keep them alive and honored.  My friend Gwendolyn, who is the owner of the King's Head Tavern, lost a good friend of hers that we had met and laughed with many times while working for her and spending time at the Faire.  When she passed away suddenly, Gwendolyn had three purple banners embroidered in memory of her.  One of them hung in the pub that first year as a constant reminder of Lady Angelique.  She may be gone but she is not forgotten.  This year marks the third since she has been gone.

Another couple we met through the Renaissance Festival, Judy and Patrick, also honor a fallen friend.  His name was Aaron Myers and he carried a large custom made tankard with a miniature anvil for a handle.  Since his passing, they have carried the tankard on every journey and to every show they attend to honor his memory and to keep a part of him at the Faire.  It is his tankard that is in the photo opposite the poem The Faire in the book

I got to know a character nicknamed Rooster the same year that I worked at The King's Head Tavern.  He is one of those 'Country Boy Can Survive' types.  His tent actually had a wood burning stove inside!  That was the warmest tent I have ever been inside and the classiest, like I said, it had been a cold winter that year.  Rooster always came to the Faire alone, but once I got to know him he told me about his wife and how before she passed away, they always attended Faires together all across the United States.  One day at the Tavern in the late evening, he walked away from us down the path and I had the distinct feeling that he wasn't walking alone.  In my mind I could see his wife walking along beside him as he made his way towards the setting sun.  A man of travel and adventure, a man of many stories and laughs, as he walked alone I could sense that there was a part of the man that was still  missing and longing for what was once so familier.  When I wrote the final verse, it was this scene that haunted my mind. "Another sun sets with golden hue, is it dust that clouds the air?  Or is it the whispering of ghosts who walk beside us at the Faire?"

Read The Faire; En Memorium and more Renaissance Faire themed writings in I Wandered from New Orleans: Poems from the South.

The Bar Wenches Drinking Song

Falstaff and four leaf clovers

It's amazing how early relationships affect the rest of our lives.  When we're young it seems like time is forever and things seem to move much more slowly.  Two years feel like ten until you're almost forty, then one year feels like only a few months have gone by before you're busy making new year's resolutions you have every intention of keeping.  Back to relationships.  There are a few pieces in my book that deal with some of these life affecting relationships.  One poem called Falstaff is about some of the memories and emotions I have concerning my father's mother.  She chose to be called 'Mammy,' which didn't go over well with my own mother.  She didn't quite like it, but my Mammy said, "That's just the way it is," and it was.  Looking back, now that I'm older, I realize that 'Mammy' is not exclusively used by colored women, though it is stereotyped in such a manner.  My grandmother married a Conway, and try as I may, I can't trace back my father's family name which is a source of endless frustration for me, because it is also my name.  My Mammy's husband was quite old, he was born in 1887 or something close to that.  He passed away when my father was about five years old.  Mammy is a term of endearment for Irish mothers, and even though my Mammy was of French descent, I believe she may have taken this name in honor of my grandfather's heritage.  Much of my writing used to be spontaneous, on the spot, in the moment writing.  I find that it has evolved into recording memories, history and reliving those things which are not only beyond the present moment, but unattainable.  This is where the poem Falstaff originated for me.  Looking back on those days when I still believed in Santa Claus and Fairy Tales, when the days were spread thick with innocence and not yet tainted with the cynicism of adulthood.  When we were surrounded by family and could plunder into the clover patches next to Mammy's house on Palmyra Street in New Orleans and find not just one four leaf clover, but two or three; sometimes the rare five leaf clover!  Days of magic and believing, I have those moments still, but looking back on times when the imagination stretched towards the horizon past the vanishing point; it feels good to remember. 

I still look for the Falstaff weather ball when I am in New Orleans; there is a rumor that it will be repaired and work just as it used to when I was a kid.  I'm still waiting for that day eagerly.  The old brewery has been converted into condominiums now, which is fine with me because at least it will keep the old building from being torn down and it finally has life again!  I think all old buildings await to be rediscovered and reinterpreted into something useful.  I am not a fan of the wrecking ball.  You can read the poem Falstaff in my book, I Wandered from New Orleans, along with other New Orleans flavored poems. http://www.tracyconway.com/