Aporia

Rex. Mardi Gras in New Orleans, 1906.

Abby and I adore Mardi Gras, and we’re inclined to mourn having missed it this year by looking through favorite old photos and listening to New Orleans music. I’m not sure if it helps or makes it worse, but I do know that these are some of my fondest memories, and there’s some damn fine music, too.

GPOYW: Owl Scarf at Mardi Gras Edition. BG5000 likes it. Girls who’ve lived in Austin like it. Shouldn’t you look into owning one? Enquire with Abby, since it’s hers.

The Science Guy cleans up at Mardi Gras with what Syd calls “Bead Face.” More here.

You don’t need to drink to have a hangover after Mardi Gras; I have one now, just sitting in the office beneath fluorescent lights, tuning out the murmur of phone calls and machines, the sharpness of sounds dulled by asbestos tiles and thin carpet, everything seeming somnolent and solemn. After so many days in winter-crisp, sun-warmed streets, the city thrumming with music and chants and the sounds of ebullient crowds, this feels like Hell’s orderly waiting room. The wildness and laughter and delight of those nights gives way to this: a muted headache, a half-hearted yawn.

I love, love, love, love, love Mardi Gras, and I loved having Abby with me. With friends from Tumblr like Lacey and Liz and my regular pals like Will, John, Lucas, Paul, and others, we had a wonderful time, even when my mother almost got me arrested. Some assorted shots:

Alternate GPOYW: girls can’t resist the scarf.

Lucas and Joe.

A lot of the team at Endymion; afterwards.

Church selling cocktails.

Flambeaux light the way for Leviathan.

Favorite costume: rum IV drip.

Abby at Orpheus, Abby with spear, Abby with me and dice.

To be honest, it’s hard to discuss without growing a bit sad that it’s over, so I think I’ll just note this is my GPOYW with my favorite girl and my favorite pants (I’m wearing them right now), and the photos are here.

(I took better ones last year; this year I was having too much fun).

Mardi Gras approaches, and Abby, Will, and I will be there with our friends through Tuesday. If you’re in New Orleans and want to meet up, send me an email (there’s a link in the sidebar) and we’ll give it a shot!

If you can’t make it -a shame- here are my photos from last year’s Carnival and here is my write-up of it. You should come down sometime.

Marching.

I love Mardi Gras unreservedly. Despite having quit drinking more than eight years ago, I find it as thrilling and affecting as I ever did, and even tend to enjoy something of a contact-high from the intoxication of the city. This year, I decided to use the occasion not solely as an excuse to experience euphoria but also to work on photographically capturing both night scenes and the spaciousness and energy of crowds.

Some of the results are amateurish, but I was happy as hell to have another way to interact with my city and to see the lights and kinetics of the parades more precisely than I had before (and thanks to Benjamin Hilts and Nudawn and Nora Leah -who’s been there- for the kind words!).

Many photos are in this Mardi Gras photoset, and a few are below. I hope some of them impart a sense of the affair, but that might be asking a lot. Selections:

An LED-covered clown-bearing float in Endymion passes our spot on Canal.

Flambeaux.

Will enjoys a moment between bouts of catching more than any adult male I’ve ever seen; he is at Gallier Hall, where thanks to Eric, a legislative director, we sat in the booth next to Ray Nagin’s for the Sunday day parades.

A little girl claps along with a marching band at night.

Throngs disappear into the lights of passing Bacchus floats on St. Charles. I tried many like this.

I remember wanting so much more than I caught, too.

A Zulu rider and a Saint.

A makeshift “Let Them Eat Shit” banner accompanies chants of “Laissez-les manger la merde,” before this krewe collided with a “Jesus train” beneath St. Louis Cathedral: quintessence of Mardi Gras.

More are here, including shots of Will unknowingly attracting cougars, Eric as the next mayor, the Quarter, and -of course- Five, who didn’t come to any parades.

Soon I’ll be home in New Orleans for Mardi Gras (all the way through Tuesday, happily). I remain as fond of it as I was when a child, and even as I was when I drank, although I’ve begun to tire more easily from the endless walking, yelling, supporting of others on shoulders, cooler-carrying, and late nights at dingy Uptown bars. Gripes of age aside, I find it more exciting every year; I think I get better at enjoying the colors, sounds, and shapes in themselves without expecting of the sorts of adventure that I pursued when I was sixteen.

Above, Mardi Gras in 1908; see also these shots from Momus in 1961.

My mom is in the Krewe of Muses (or see here or here), which has far and away the coolest and most creative throws in Mardi Gras. The shoes she makes each year to give out to the parade-goers of New Orleans are totally brilliant; check out her gallery of shoes for 2008. Her old Katrina-themed creations were always my favorite.

Here were their floats from 2006. They’re known as the funniest, most bitingly satirical parade (plus, since their riders are all female, guys tend to catch a hell of a lot).