It's Jazz Fest season and I'm spending as much time as I can listening to WWOZ, wishing I were listening to the music in person. Actually, rather than Jazz Fest, it's the earlier-in-April French Quarter Festival which I'm hoping to attend next year.
And I'm feeling so restless these days that New Orleans is one of the places I occasionally fantasize about moving to next. Strictly for music and food in that case, with unemployment, high crime rate, and ridiculous heat and humidity being the flip side of that particular coin.
Other passing fantasies for the next stop: Bozeman, back to Duluth, Yosemite, the Northwest, and Gardiner if I could get a job with the Yellowstone Association. They had an accounting job last year which I almost applied for but I decided I wasn't finished with life in the park yet. I'm ready now, unless I find a new job or jobs--six months in reservations is about two months too long, and it's very different situation from the place I enjoyed working last year. Being a non-driver makes this kind of transitory life very difficult to manage satisfactorily.
I've enjoyed spending time with a couple women in recent months, but have realized I'll be happier not spending time with either of them. They enjoy my company but don't show me much respect; neither wants anything serious, and I don't want anything casual. So back to solitude.
I'll find plenty to keep myself occupied once I settle my mind. I've got 198 miles to go to reach 500 this year, and I've got a big pile of free books to read and review. Along with novels (just finished The First Warm Evening of the Year, currently reading Boleto, to be followed by The Unseen, and Island Apart), I've got The Man Who Planted Trees and Straphanger. On their way are Secret Lives of Ants and Too Much Magic, the latest from Kunstler.