I suppose the word “Fall” makes sense insofar as it is an antonym to “Spring.” In Australia, we say “Autumn.” Although it makes total sense — same goes for koozie vs. stubby holder as the Aussie word is, against type, altogether too many syllables — I rail against changing my vocabulary, much as I struggle to not relinquish my accent nor my sense of wonder at my new home, Shrimpdog a.k.a. Shreveport.
I’ve now experienced some of the city’s most exciting calendar items: the Red River Revel, Louisiana Film Prize, Aseana Festival, artscare, Makers Fair, and the Highland Jazz and Blues Fest, to name some highlights. I’ve got down and sweaty at Bear’s when Rebirth Brass Band toured through, and helped set up the very first SBC unfiltered event right under my office at Central ARTSTATION. I welcomed ART the Dalmatian as his family pizza sized-paws were planted and his otherworldly spots lit up for the first time. Just last week, for Tatsuya Nakatani’s performance at Calanthean Canyon at the western boundary of Shreveport Common, I stepped off Texas Ave. and into a beautiful grotto filled with ethereal sounds and a carousel of warm faces.
Wonder is something that one gains when one immerses one’s senses in the new and foreign. Difficult to do when you’re in your hometown. Difficult, but not impossible. I’ve ridden my bike through downtown countless times now, but every time I do, it looks different. At night the streets are still and blue; at sunset I’m in a concrete fire. The buildings are characters with infinite detail to get lost in. So that’s what I’m doing at the moment in Shrimpdog, pushing back on familiarity and looking every time with naive eyes.
I invite y’all to do the same. Reset every day.