voodoo country, i guess

i'm in new orleans now. the only way things could improve any would be if i could actually get an apartment. whatever, small details. apartment hunting has been going well. i've checked out 5 places.

today i encountered a voodoo gypsy woman.

she called me last night about my craiglist apartment man. in 15 minutes, she managed to tell me everything about herself, and very little about the apartment. i knew this much: that for $450 a month, i would have a room with utilities in a decent neighborhood, with food because gypsy-woman is a chef for a restaurant as well as privately for a family....in addition to being a telemarketer, a belly-dance instructor, and hairdresser. it was a no-brainer: i had to go check it out.

she answered the door and held her finger up, pausing me from saying anything because she was in the middle of a telemarketing sale. she pointed at the couch for us to sit down, so we did. i knew she had several pets, and she told me what she had over the phone. the menagerie of ferrets, guinea pigs, cat, some mysterious animal that made a lot of noise, and her "wolf" (whatever, it was a german shepherd mix.) didn't bother me. the snake did. it stared at me and slithered in its cage. because i'm petrified of snakes, i shifted my gaze.

right to the coffin that sat propped up against the wall in the living room.

swords hung from every wall in the apartment. in the middle of the coffee table was a long wooden bowl, on top of which rested the largest sword of all, and in which lay three crystals. voodoo magic? gypsy magic? i can only begin to guess. i looked for crystal balls and tarot cards, but i saw none. i'm sure if i crossed her palm with silver, she would have told me my fortune.

the smells coming from the kitchen were delicious, and after she hung up the phone, she told me about the place. she talked fast, and she talked loud, and she pulled her long black hair off her back and twisted it around itself. her skin was a dark olive color and her eyes were almost black. she had a big smile, and a kind face. she was friendly in the most open way, not afraid to say what she was thinking, but so stuck on being friendly that she didn't know how to ask questions. her teeth protruded from her thin lips, like a horse's. she looked gypsy. and she continually referenced her gypsy heritage, as if she thought we would forget. the swords hanging literally over our head made that impossible.

and somehow, before we had even gotten to the logistics about the apartment, she brought up the coffin, still tilting ominously against the wall. my dad politely pressed her for more information. she's a vampire novelist, she says. the coffin was used at her book signing. not only is it a great conversation piece, but she uses it as a way to tell people about her writing. her friends, insist that she is too quiet about her writing succeses, and believe that she should talk more about them. and apparently, it works. i would say that having your coffin sitting in your living room is a silent motivator.

in any case, as soon as i could catch a word in edgewise (which we didn't really, the telemarketer phone line rang), i ski-dooed right out of there. it seems obvious that i wouldn't have even considered living with her. but you would be wrong to think that. i didn't take the apartment, but i thought seriously about it, mostly because my writer's instinct knew there would be great material. ok, the free food...who am i kidding.

the hunt continues. i guess i might have a place, and have a fall back. but until i unpack my u-haul, i live with the haunt that someone will drive off with my uhaul trailer and i will never again see my precious antiques.