Category Archives: Henri

Henri

Toulouse Red Makes Some Noise

“Harrrrrumph!” You thought I was in that place, that place where Blanche is locked away. That place where Henri might have never seen sunlight. That place of waiting, for a long time. “Harrrrrumph!”

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Intersections

A new road opens up before me. It’s all a matter of perspective.

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You’re Nothing But A Jackelope, Henri

So you broke the chain on your bicycle and got a flat too? Look at you there, in the ditch next to the railroad track. All scratched up and bleeding on the gravel; and not a medic to be found. … Continue reading

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Laying Down The Law on Henri

I declare, Henri! Are you going to lie down on those tracks all afternoon? Next time the engineer might get a little closer, just for the hell of it. You’ll grab the oil pastels and run off like a jackelope, … Continue reading

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Toulouse Red on the Tracks

Those were the carefree hippy days. Before the chase began. Before the scooter trips through the French Quarter at all hours of the day and night. The absinthe bottles. Henri tied to the tracks as the Amtrak Superliner approached. (It … Continue reading

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Henri and the Cormorant

Henri stood at the shore of Lake Pontchartrain with a stout deep-sea rod in his hands. The reel was letting out 6 pound line at a steady clip. Offshore, a cormorant circled back and forth over the water. Then the … Continue reading

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The New Orleans Times-Picayune breaks the news

Atelier Vie plans absinthe distillery in Mid-City.

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Les moyens de production d’absinthe sont pleines de la paperasserie

Les moyens de production d’absinthe sont pleines de la paperasserie. The ways of absinthe production are fraught with red tape.

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Henri and the Supermodel

I just broke a nail typing this story and it was all the fault of the Supermodel. I was downtown, riding my Vespa, when who should I see but Henri. There he was, standing on the sidewalk, gaping at a … Continue reading

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Henri assailed by the Cell Phone

Skylark and Currency of Tears were out late carousing one night at one of the hundreds of Irish pubs in the area. “Look, the streetcar” shouted Skylark, as he fumbled in his pocket for five quarters. “Damn, not enough, brah. … Continue reading

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