So I’m writing from New Orleans, from a gorgeous little bed and breakfast with fans whirring overhead, gleaming wooden floors, and French doors leading out to a pool with many many plants draped sluttishly over it. It’s sooo beautiful here. I love this city with all my heart, or what’s left of it, despite the mosquitoes as big as helicopters that have ravaged my legs and soul. We’ve been here since Thursday, wandering around and drinking wine and having lovely meals in romantical places with balconies and tin ceilings. I really feel that New Orleans is the city equivalent to Garbo languishing in Camille, in elegantly doomed fashione.

Today we’re renting a car and heading out to the swamps. Yesterday was my book reading at Octavia Books and, well, it was an extremely lovely event for me, my four friends, and the very charming owners of the very charming store, but I’m afraid the rest of the city was busy donning itself in Halloween gear and playing hard to get. We ended up all hanging out in an empty store as it grew dark outside, and I signed all the copies of my book stock and read to the six of them. It was a bit of a relief, since I’ve been so nervous about reading and public speaking, and it was homespun and sweet, like sitting around a campfire telling tales. I do hope that the Philly event next weekend is slightly better attended, however, or else I might start to feel unadored!

Also, this is my new favorite band: http://www.elradiofantastique.com/. Tomorrow night they will be playing at the coolest club in the city, with trapeze girls trapezing alongside them, but alas we will be on a plane heading hooommee.