There's a big block party going on outside: the street packed with parked cars, folks rolling in looking sharp, a dee-jay spinning all the block party classics. I strolled Floyd past and then saw the memorial flowers (and memorial t-shirts). Oh. And what better reason to have a huge blow out? If I have the good fortune — at some distant and appropriate time — to die in New Orleans, one of my few regrets will be that I can't attend my own memorial shindig. You all'd better throw me a good one.