HWY 61

The Blues Highway baby! I'm incredibly pissed that I misunderstood the location of Clarksdale (home of the crossroads where Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil and etc) and therefore missed it! By the time I was aware of my mistake I would have had to drive 6 hours or more out of my way. So, I'll just have to make another trip another time and do a whole blues tour. But it still bums me out. However, I took HWY 61 from Jackson, MS to Baton Rouge, LA and it was incredibly beautiful.

100,000 miles! (and apparently my brake pads are about to fail me)

Jackson, MS

I was only here for 1 day, 2 nights. The first night I was incredibly tired, and forgot to take any photos. My host is a photographer, and a good one at that. (You can check out http://www.joshhaileyphotography.com/) I had a couple beers in his studio, and toured his gallery. We went to a local spot for some seafood gumbo, only to find out (after I'd consumed half of it) that due to the oil spill, oysters were scarce so the strange chunks weren't oysters, they were andouille sausage. (I'm not familiar with oysters, or sausage for that matter, so I was easily fooled) As you can imagine, I spent a lot of quality time in the bathroom over the next 24 hours. It wasn't too inconvenient, for I hung out with the roomies for the remainder of the night. The next afternoon was spent in the backyard "making art" as my host called it. I got to glue fine china, break porcelain, and yes- use the saw!!

Until the storm rolled in...

This is Lil' Bit, who is much more fat than little, and slept on my face both nights.

One of the roommates hosting trivia night. (We lost, bad)

His girlfriend bought me a coozy to remember Jackson by (now my beers will stay cold longer- hoorah!)

We then went to the dive across the street to play naked lady photo hunt (then they sang some karaoke- I refrained.)

Memphis

Graceland. Too damn expensive to get in, but I wrote on the wall (sort of- my pen sucked) and, well, now I can say I've been there (sort of)

Tom Lee Park, and of course, the Mississippi River!

Beale St.

Suzette and I listening (and eventually dancing) to some blues and drinking some beer.

View from atop the Peabody.

At BB King's blues restaurant. (very expensive) but I had some tastey catfish and hush puppies (it is difficult to recover from a southern fried dinner!) and listened to this guy Richard Johnston play the blues on some very cool handmade instruments.

Put Put golfing. I lost all the games, but I put up a better fight than I had expected.