Canal Fatale!

Last night Nikhil and I got loaded and bought two one way tickets to New Orleans for next tuesday. But first, a preface, and who wouldn't lurv one except for some hideous incarnation of half-salamander, half Tanya Harding. Preface: Aimless, graduation from Oberlin imminent, planning to move to the San Francisco Bay area sans employment, my highschool friend Katie sends me a message and says to me (to be read in girl accent): "I'm moving to New Orleans and starting a non-profit writer's collective. You should come down, rent is cheap." I've never been to New Orleans, but heard of it's plentiful treasures of loose women, (to be read with jazz hands) jazz, and it's dearth of open container laws I have.  I'm going against my better judgment and predilection towards whiskey-addled shenanigans.  My friend Nikhil is coming, too. He's one of the smartest and most sensitive guys I've ever met...and he has a staff infection. Alas, the world is too much with him.  Wordsworth said that! About someone else.  I don't know much about this city famed for the intensity and frequency of it's carjacking, or about this writer's collective I'm about to join for that matter, but nevertheless, like rocketized intergalactic falcons pumping out abrasive fuck-jams from their sinuous beaks upon clouds most high, we will destroy whatever obstacles should happen to cross our paths (we're buying sweet knives) (big, big heavy knives covered in blood!!!). We can fight, we can fly, we can Sk-kraw, Sk-kraw, Sk-kraw!!!