While in New Orleans, I picked up a few CDs from street bands I really liked. One was kind of an old-time jazz band. Another was two women, Dorise & Tanya, who play guitar and violin. They kick ass. They play everything from classic standards to covers of popular tunes. The CD I picked out has U2's "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" on it. I'm listening to it now. While I'm still partial to the version that features Bono's crooning, there's something simple about the all-music version.
NOLA was interesting. I can't imagine living there, much less being there during or just after Hurricane Katrina. And still, the culture, food and architecture is breathtaking. I understand now why people from there say there's no place like it. They're right.
I have an unhealthy fondness for Bourbon Street and found an excuse to walk there every night. I'll expound upon this in a future, honest-to-God essay, but for now all I'll say is it should be comforting to women of every shape and size. The immaturity of the men on display might make you weep, but the too-tight G-strings and pasties on misshapen boobs would make any woman smile and stand a little straighter.
Favorite quotes from today:
"There's lots of frustration and toxicity, but we cling to the good times."
"Anyone can rub on someone and call it a massage. Everyone knows that."
Speaking of massages and the quote above, I received a two-hour massage this evening finally cashing in on my rapidly mounting Massage Envy monthly membership (you'll lose all your saved-up massages if you cancel your membership - thus, if you're not diligent - you'll find yourself getting massages every hour until you cancel ... like I'll be doing).
Yesterday I was slated for a long run. I got up later than I would've liked. The one-hour time difference from NOLA has surprisingly kicked my ass. I attended the Panthers game (what an abysmal team) and collected money afterward for the LAMB Foundation of NC. Didn't leave the stadium until a bit after 5 and didn't hit the streets in my sneakers until around 6. What I had hoped to be 10 miles was more and more looking like an 8-mile run. I picked up my pace. Around mile 4 my left leg felt really tight. I figured it'd work itself out. I was wrong. By mile 5 I felt a pop in my hamstring. I kept trying to walk-run, but it made my eyes tear. After limping a mile, it was getting quite dark. After two deer and an opossum crossed my path, I figured I better call in reinforcements.
I returned home and iced it all night. It's far better today, but I supplemented with an extra-long massage. I don't usually like to be talked to during massages, unless you're whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I now know this girl's life story. She had a stroke at 28. She's 29 now. Totally functioning but still scary. She still doesn't have health insurance. Her dad just recovered from non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. She's dating a guy who wants to be a sci-fi writer. His birthday is Nov. 9.
Among the personal history, I also learned some rather lurid details of the massage therapy industry. She hasn't run into as many smelly people as I'd hoped. None that she could recall, in fact. Lots of women and men in need of pedicures. Lots of men who need to shave their backs. And, what I wasn't really expecting (maybe my mind isn't dirty enough?) a much larger number of people getting off on the massage table than I would've expected. She's only had to terminate one massage session in six years for that very reason which, she assured me, is pretty good in terms of statistics. Still, it's surprising to me that every couple months she'll have a guy ask for a "happy ending" in all seriousness. (I'm not even going to discuss what an insult that term is to fairy tales and Happy Meals everywhere.)
Really? What arrogance! What ... utter shamelessness.
She admitted that women also go too far. She tried to class it up and philosophize it out, saying that it's all men and women who are disoriented about touch or aren't touched a lot. She talked a lot about how most all men, as we know, can't distinguish between different kinds of touch and massage is immediately sexual for them. Women are better at the nuances of touch.
Regardless, no one wants some guy going to town on the massage table, am I right?
Was this massage of mine relaxing? Maybe not as much as others I've had. Was it entertaining? Hell yes.
Not even close to Bourbon Street, but for Charlotte It'll do.
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