Archives for posts with tag: Jason Kerzinski


Congratulations to Jason Kerzinski — an artist and writer in New Orleans — for winning a copy of Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris. Jason responded to our October 1st post where we offered to mail a copy of the book to the first person who left a comment.

This afternoon, I noticed that the copy Jason claimed is a First Edition (2004), but don’t know if this gives the volume any extra value — since the publisher must have printed a gazillion copies in an initial run for the popular Sedaris.

Note: There is still an unclaimed book giveaway among our September posts.


Summer in NOLA

Story by Jason Kerzinski

“Hey Sweetie,” a girl in a red cruiser saunters by acknowledging the Mardi Gras Indian who stands with a Home Depot tip jar inches from his flowering Indian garb. His pink feathers illuminate the streets streaked with reminders of last night’s debauchery. His bloodshot eyes bulge.

The few tourists walking by glance with unsure looks at the man dressed in such odd attire. The yellow-and-blue beaded design on his breast reflects pink dusk brushstrokes that fill the sky. I never noticed the pink dusk until I moved to New Orleans. It took me until my thirty-third year to notice the dusk. The things we miss. How could I have missed the pink dusk all these years? The pink dusk is fast approaching. Does anyone else smell a bouquet of star glazers? Can you smell it? I can smell it.

The Mardi Gras Indian picks up his empty fluorescent orange tip jar and waddles farther down to Bourbon Street. The well has run dry. Summer in NOLA. The only way for performers to pick up some cash these days is to migrate to Bourbon. My poor, poor street performers. No one should be subjected to all the vile things that stare up from that street. Tough times in NOLA during the summertime. A gooeyness. A stillness. Days to reflect.  

Photo: Kim Welsh, Offbeat Magazine, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Story Poem by Jason Kerzinski

Mr. Porres, Mr. Porres, Mor. Porres. Is it okay to call you “Mister”? Or would you prefer Mr. Saint Porres? Have I offended the man who brought mouse, cat, bird, and dog together? That must have been a chore. How did you manage it? Did you tempt those creatures with lasagna? It must have been lasagna. Italian food can unite any group of folks. Lasagna and breadsticks. How stupid of me to leave out the breadsticks. Mouthwatering breadsticks with garlic butter. Did you serve wine? Again, I’m not thinking. Wine, lasagna, and breadsticks can unite a toad and a fox. Have you taken on that task, Mr. Porres? Pack your bags immediately and head for Grimes, Iowa. They have a large population of toads and foxes. I will rent a car for you this afternoon. I will rent you a Ford Taurus so you will remain inconspicuous. Good luck, Mr. Saint Martin de Porres, and Godspeed.

Note: “Godspeed” by Jason Kerzinski was originally published in the New Orleans Review, Volume 33, Number 2.



Story by Jason Kerzinski

Another day at the office. My apron is soiled in coffee and splatterings of food particles. My mind is exhausted from another double. My feet ache. My calluses are starting to engulf both my feet. I should really get myself to a foot doctor. That or go to the Wal-Mart on Tchoupitoulas and buy myself a pair of new shoes. I would have but I haven’t felt like riding public transportation the last few days.

It’s strange. I’m always gung-ho about riding public transportation. The symphony of voices puts me at ease. It’s my time to sit back, relax, and observe the comings and goings of the ever-eclectic bunch of passengers. I’m just not into riding. I’m hoping the joy of riding comes back soon. It’s my place of refuge. It’s my first wonder of the world.

“The streetcar is coming,” the man standing next to me says. He’s 5 feet 8 inches tall with gruff sideburns and the yellowest teeth that I have ever seen. I see he has a smoking addiction, too.

I enter the streetcar hesitantly. I’m not ready to ride public transportation again. Where is this sudden fear of riding public transportation coming from? I exit the streetcar cautiously. I decide that I’m not quite ready. Thankfully, I did, or I would have never heard such an electrifying musical accompaniment in my life.

Halfway home, in the distance, I hear toads. It’s symphonic in its beauty. I know I’ve heard this piece before. Was it symphony Number 4 by Bach? What was the song? It sounds so familiar. How do toads know about Bach?   Who knew toads were musical geniuses?

My head hits the pillow. The toad symphony lulls me to sleep. Thanks to the toad symphony, my mind is at ease. The storm blues are fading away. Tomorrow I’m going to ride public transportation again. United Cab Company isn’t going to get any more of my hard-earned dollars. Looks like things are looking up.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jason Kerzinski is a playwright, short story writer, poet, and artist who lives in New Orleans.