.

First of all, if you haven’t already- check out the DEMO for If Ever I Cease To Love as seen at the fundraiser at the Half King on Feb. 20, 2006.

Second of all, check out the krewe CREDITS on the film!

In New Orleans, we had:

A. Moi Peters, director/producer

Rik Andino, producer/sound

Morla Gorrondona, producer

Boris Cifuentes, director of photography

Jen Gergen, all around saint

David Fauchaux, grip/camera b operator

Chris Kummell, production assistant/camera operator

Thanks to:

Ray Deter at DBA, New Orleans

Wes Davis at Turncoats

Ben Cohen and the bass parade

Rob Savoy and his bike parade

David Fransen for his pop

Mike for the house

And other kind folks of New Orleans

Thursday, Feb. 23, 2006

Stayed up all night, maybe snagged about 20 minutes of sleep, and headed for JFK. Got into MSY around 11am with no problems and took a cab the long way around to Morla’s job. The boys, Boris and Rik, were flying into Gulfport and driving over on I-10.

I check the internets until Morla gets off work and we go to her place after seeing a little bit of the devastation on the way. Waterlines, abandoned boats, no street lights, and blue tarps… and to think I ain’t seeing nothing yet.

The boys show up and we grab some po-boys. Then we head to Algiers on the West Bank to settle into our house and take a nap.

We wake up, go to Bywater and catch a band called the Blue Marbles at Eldin’s garage. David joins us and gets some close-ups in a way I could never get Boris to do, who on this trip we discover is a big wimp (in a cute way…). They turn out to be super cool guys who give a good interview. I notice even indie bands from New Orleans tend to use different types of instruments.

Friday, Feb. 24, 2006

We shoot at Turncoats on Magazine Street. We meet Wes Davis, owner, and interview Jac Currie for his Defend New Orleans designs. Definitely a damn cool store. I get everyone Defend New Orleans t-shirts hoping it soothes the pain of not getting paid to do all this. Hardly. Then we get some Flying Burritos and I think I see Gene Simmons- but it isn’t him after all. This is after I confuse Russell Simmons with Richard Simmons.

We then head out to see Jody Smith’s band, The Bad Off, at Circle Bar with Travis from the Public. Travis disappears; Rik and Boris agree to tape the show for The Bad Off. Before they go on we sneak off to Bourbon Street so Boris can see his first boobs ever. We get some beads. We get back in time for the show. Then I think we go back to Bourbon Street for some reason.

Saturday, Feb. 25, 2006

Since we’re staying in Algiers, right across the water from the New Orleans skyline, I figure we should go shoot the looming clouds overhead. A storm’s a brewing. Some kids on the levee roll by on their bikes and we interrogate them about their feelings on Katrina. They’re well-spoken kids, but the wind ruins the sound. We figured the sound would suck, but it was spur of the moment and all we could do at the time. Anyway, the kids simply see the storm as just another issue to deal with. Whatever.

We then go to Mardi Gras World and tape the Muse floats hanging out inside the barn. Of the parades, it was the most political, but since we missed the actual parade it was cool to catch the floats here. Basically, the people who ride the floats are called the Krewe. They pay membership dues to be a part of it and buy the “throws” (beads, stuffed animals, cups, etc.) with their own money. I, by the way, caught the end of a tour with a guide explaining this stuff hence why I know these things.

Boris shoots out of the window as I drive over the bridge to the city, through Bywater, over the canal, and into the 9^th ward. Whoa. It’s still gloomy out and boy is the devastation vast. Houses on top of cars, entire homes wiped right off the map, businesses flooded, ruined, collapsed, and smashed by giant trees, and emptied streets lined by piles of garbage. Hm.

Later that evening it rains like hell, and Endymion, the parade, is cancelled- but the party lives on. We head over to Joe Kight’s Endymio-rama and meet some cool people. We interview Rotary Downs, an indie band. One guy worked in IT at the Army Corps of Engineers they day Katrina hit along with about 7 other guys (ONLY 7). He had some interesting stories. Another guy worked for NPR, who still covers post-Katrina New Orleans really well, and talked about the musicians they interviewed for a show. Joe, the host, declined to be interviewed since he was wasted by the time the band took a break in their performance (we waited til the break since he was enjoying the show and of course sound issues). I really didn’t blame him.

We then hurry to the airport to pick up the latest victim of our production, Jen. Yay, another girl. She tries to get us to lay off Rik who was giving us the silent treatment (since from this trip we learn the depth of his kind of fing) because she’s new to our readily approaching Real World-proportions doc krewe, but it’s only a matter of time until she learns our ways.

Sunday, Feb. 26, 2006

Quite possibly the longest day ever. We felt like Jack Bauer.

It started out with a really awesome interview with Kermit Ruffins. He has the cutest dog ever and he played trumpet for us. He let us know that he feels a tremendous responsibility to return New Orleans music to New Orleans but also to displaced New Orleanians all around the country. He’s very optimistic about her return back to normal. Then he loaded up some chicken into the BBQ grill on the back of his truck and headed to his next gig. That’s so awesome.

Then we head out to the 9^th ward again and get yet more footage. Boris finally gets to use a tripod (affectionately referred to as the Office Space tripod since it’s broken and he’s so frustrated he wants to take it to a field and beat it to death), and not only is it sunny out this time, but a bunch of tourists and dip shit documentarians are shooting the destruction. We chat with some girls with Common Ground, a grassroots organization helping out the best they can.

We go over to the Garden District to attend a neat party where Boris’ masculinity is threatened and Rik starts a trend of telling dirty jokes. We stick around until 3am when we hit the Bass Parade. I love the Bass Parade because it’s a bunch of people so excited about their favorite instrument, that they have a parade about it. Hilarious. They gather at a bar in the French Quarter, play the hell out of their basses all the way to the next bar. The next bar and the next. Uprights, electric basses, bass drums, etc.

Around 5am we order food at the Clover Grill. Around 6:30am, the sun rises, and we escape with our food. It seems that since Katrina, the New Orleans service industry is hard-pressed to stay staffed and feed people all hours of the night. McDonalds, Burger King and Taco Bell are offering $9.75 an hour. It really did take over an hour to get our food, but it always seems to be fucking good when we do get it. We are wasted tired.

Monday, Feb. 27, 2006

Lundi Gras! Despite our late night, we dragged ourselves out of bed and headed to the Riverwalk to interview the Rebirth Brass Band around 1:30pm. We ended up only getting Phil Frazer, band leader, but also some of the bonuses we got today were Nick Harris of Zulu, Amanda Shaw, 15 year old Cajun fiddle player and all around amazing performer (next Britney Spears if you ask me), and Herbert Carter of Pink Stripe Brass Band. Boris hated the lighting situation. Rik hated the sound situation. I met Al Roker.

Then I dragged everyone to Harrah’s all-you-can-eat buffet for nostalgia’s sake, but everyone hated it and didn’t care how to use a slot machine. I put in $20 and got $20 back. I love casino’s. They’re so ridiculous.

We took a nap and woke up for a party that didn’t exist. We acquired a Southern Comfort inflatable couch off St. Charles for Boris’ furniture collection.

Tuesday, Feb. 28, 2006

Mardi Gras! We met up at Rob Savoy’s house at 6am for Bike-us, the bike parade. At Pals, they had a ceremony, caught up with some riders, and crowned Rob the king of the parade. We ran ahead to get a shot of them riding down Bayou Road, but then they never came. Then we finally parked and made it to a great spot for the Zulu parade. Thanks to Rob, we had a great vantage from the porch. Sadly, the last float was empty to represent those lost to Katrina. I heard they Zulu lost 10 members.

We then strolled over to catch the Rex parade. A drunk lady got all emotional on camera. I got sunburn.

We were driving to grab something to eat when we stumbled upon the Mardi Gras Indians. We were supposed to catch them along the bike parade- but because they have no parade routes, it’s never certain you’ll find them. Elaborately feathered and beaded, these “gangs” hand-craft their costumes for months before Mardi Gras and since the 1890s have roamed New Orleans on Fat Tuesday. I wanted shots of them because not only do they represent the dissidents of New Orleans, but they are also an integral part of the roots of American music. Oh, and they’re pretty.

At some point I got bitched the fuck out by the New Orleans Police Department. A cop stopped interstate on-ramp traffic for like 10 minutes to yell at me for an illegal left turn that I knew I was illegally taking as I took it. Playing dumb usually gets me out of these things. He didn’t want to give me a ticket. He was tired and very grumpy.

I think the kids went to Bourbon Street yet again and then to some seedy strip joint. I slept instead. I was never a fan of either.

Wednesday, Mar. 1, 2006

I drag everybody to a 10am interview with Ray Fransen, drum player, store owner, professor, dad, and all around cool guy. His store didn’t open til 1 since I guess most customers are most likely hung over, so we didn’t get to connect with him until noon. In the mean time we went to a military surplus store where I bought a Boy Scout belt and got Boris the Boy Scout book of knots. I covered up the knife cabinet hoping Rik wouldn’t want to play with any of the contents. Zed, the owner, questioned my official Boy Scout purchases. I stammered and said my brother was an eagle scout and my dad was a scout master- as though that would somehow give me cred with Zed. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t actually his name.

Ray gave a great interview and I think that finally made everyone else understand what the movie was about. Then we zoom over the DBA by 2 to set up for author Tom Piazza, Why New Orleans Matters. Another kick ass interview! Let me just say Ray Deter is awesome for not only letting us shoot in his establishments on two different occasions, but for an interview that made the demo.

Dave and Chris take us to Port of Call. I was upset that I couldn’t order pizza but the distributor of pizza-making goods doesn’t exist anymore. Damn. Constant reminders this place got screwed. Who thought of the pizza makers? WHO?!

Later we went to Chris’ to hang out with him, his wife, and Dave. This is the night we find out the very scary way that not only does Rik not have a driver’s license, but he’s actually a very bad driver. Perhaps it’s lack of experience- after all, I’ve been driving since I was 14 and Boris drives a cab for 12 hour stints. But still, I was frightened.

We go to a bar in West Metarie and decompress a little from the whole trip. It was fun.

Thursday, Mar. 2, 2006

I speed to their airport and Boris shoots the skyline out the window. I make it on time; though somehow lose my boarding pass going from the counter to the security line so I have to get a new one. Yeah, I know.

Friday, Mar. 3, 2006

I’ll leave out the part where I got to work and get very angry at our friend Josh.

THIS WEEKEND?!

dubbing logging dubbing logging dubbing logging dubbing sleeeeeeeep

So yeah, Jazz Fest, here we come. Now how am I going to afford this trip…