the eugene bean

Draft 1:
I'm ok when I think of my friends drinking beer on the neutral ground. I'm ok when I think of the beads and the bands. I'm ok when I think of the Port-o-let, and climbing in the back of someone's truck to pee. I'm ok thinking about the fried chicken...

Draft 2:
Today I'm thinking of:
fried chicken
ice cold beer from the ice chest
horses
folding chairs
drinking a bloody mary
St. Aug
Port-o-lets
beads
laughter

Draft 3:
During Mardi Gras
You can walk down the middle of the street drinking a beer
You can go on a long walk and people watch
You can lie down and take a nap anywhere you want to
You can feel truly lucky to have a port-o-let to pee in
You can have fun with total abandonYou can gaze upon the Boeuf gras
You can catch some spectacularly tacky beads
You can sit on the curb and eat as you're entertained by the people passing by
You can feel the bass drum wiggle your entire body

No matter how many times I try to write about Mardi Gras, no matter how hard I try to explain it to people, no matter how much I try to process my sadness and nostalgia, I just can't express my real thoughts.

Mardi Gras simply cannot be explained. It's a sense, a feeling, a gut reaction. Nothing else on earth could possibly recreate that feeling, andI feel sorry for the people who have yet to experience it. I feel sorry for myself because I'm not there.

And I can promise you, no matter where I live on this planet, no matter where our lives lead us, I will do everything in my power not to miss another Mardi Gras.