Now, by bus I'm not talking about the 10 hour Greyhound journey that culminated in a broken motor at the border from where I then had to take a $90 cab to Montreal, no, I mean the amazing convenience of rideshares, the anti-bus, completely anonymous encounters that serve no other purpose than to bring two perfect strangers together in one vehicle with the common goal of a singular destination.  

Montreal is full of contemporary pragmatism and thoughts of Leonard Cohen whose wisdom has earned him the right to charge upwards of $200 in his quest for the solace of salvation except that "even damnation is poisoned with rainbows," remember?

Thank you, Montreal, for being there when Paris can't and New York no longer wants to.

I went to New Orleans because American culture is this nebulous area that always fascinates me through its, well, vapid, pre-fabricated efficiency.  And yet, this one place is like a little unit of tenacity where people are so happy to be just be there, again, alive, almost well, that they open up and welcome you and all your annoying presuppositions and fussy needs.

Did you know, for example, that the original Blind Mellon bee girl, the one on the cover of the album, worked at Cafe Feelings in Marigny where her large, framed portrait still adorns the wall, right above that of Marylin? Or that the Ursuline Convent on the outskirts of the French Quarter may still house vampires in the attic when they were brought over in wooden cases by young girls to help tend to the sick during a yellow fever epidemic? 

Well, I learned all about it, along with Muffeletta sandwiches, regular and frozen Hand Grenades, a delectable drinks that combines ten different liquors in a giant plastic cup with a grenade-shaped bottom or the ever popular Hurricane (Rum, corn starch, high fructose corn syrup, red 40). 

I also learned that even no matter how severe the destruction and destitution, a sunny disposition can be served up with a heavy cream sauce and a large, friendly smile. 

We splurged and got badges to preclude any worries ever about lines, stamps, wrist bands, excessive crowds and alcohol consumption.  For many reasons, we were right; in some ways, however, we could have done without because as every seasoned SXSW regular knows, the day parties are way cooler, shit's free everywhere anyway and if they gave us anymore free Dentyne Ice, my tongue would have turned numb, in a minty fresh sort of way.  Though I loved the Ice Cream Man, the generous truck that cruised around Austin, giving away delicious ice cream bars and those awesome Froz-Fruit strawberry ice things that I ate enthusiastically at every opportunity. 
I also wish to point out that drinking during the day was highly encouraged by the impeccable porta-potties -- pale pink for girls and pale blue for boys -- that graced every outdoor venue and event.  They were clean, smelled lovely and even had those hand washing stations conveniently placed just outside the door. 
When we first arrived at Ben's, he showed us this huge 70s blue bus parked in front of his neighbors' house that said "How's Your News" on it in big, white, bubble letters.  Then I noticed a group of people holding news cameras and microphones, all of whom seemed to be either mildly or severely mentally disabled.  Each person in the group wore a "How's Your News" t-shirt, a perfect blue baseball tee that looks like those rad numbers they wore in old Tootsie Roll commercials.  I saw these folks around town and at a brilliant day party.  Turns out they are all part of a documentary where the reporters have mental and physical disabilities. They also take part in a special camp called Camp Jabberwocky for people with such problems. They love to laugh and laugh at themselves all the time.  I wish I had a chance to speak with them more, especially the really cute, curly haired boy who smiled excessively and always asked passersby how they were doing with the most sincere interest.  I heard they are funny, crazy and completely easy going about everything.  I would have had many questions to pose.

Dude from Lightspeed Champion with his own "How's Your News tee"

When I came back home, I ordered a t-shirt off their website.  It's blue with white stripes on the sleeves and a red number 8 on the back left shoulder.  It says "How's Your News" on it in white bubble letters on the front, obviously.