"You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard. We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't.” - Chris Rose
When you say the words New Orleans those who have breathed in the city take a moment look at you and get a wistful smile. Justifiably so New Orleans is the Birth Place of Jazz, Home To Marie Laveaux and the Pinnacle of Old Hedonism in the New World. We will give NOLA all that. But to the locals, the ones whose ancestors whisper in the wind tickling you while you drink, inspire you to do things you would normally never while here, they will give you a sage nod and quietly mutter “La Lune.”
If New Orleans was a child, La Lune would be it’s ever watchful mother. Oh we know the Parish was not established until 1818. It doesn’t mean it hasn’t been here longer than New Orleans. Just not recognized by design. History will say Hurricane Sabina caused a flood that engulfed half of the state and made massive formations that looked like hills. Let the world believe what they want. To us locals, we subscribe to the truth. What truth might you ask? This is the one that only few people know. The one where Papa Legba was roaming in one of his many earthly forms and happened upon the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Madam La Lune. After some chase and mischief confessed she was the spirit of the Moon and like him roamed the earthly plane out of listlessness.
Papa Legba and Madam La Lune became lovers. Ran wild, naked and free in earthly forms. They fused the waters with life, the air with artistry and the land with Passion and Lust. Papa named the land La Lune after his most cherished concubine and lover. In order to protect their earthy Valhalla, Papa Legba raised the lands and created hills in order to hide them from the world. It is said the muses themselves would laze at the shores. At times throughout history they would soar across the hills into New Orleans and stand behind artists and inspire them. Although like any immortal mischief would run amuck and often times the spirits fled into the over the formations after they would cause such disruptions.
Those native to the Bayou know this is where Marie Laveaux and Doctor John came to gather their most powerful Juju. Only those blessed by Papa Legba himself could practice in the swamps on La Lune without immediate ramifications.
La Lune is where The Blue Dog Roams. Where Faulkner wandered high on Absinthe and was inspired to write Soldier's Pay. This is the land where Louis Armstrong, George David Weiss and Bob Thiele sat drunk on it’s hills looking down at it as they composed “What A Wonderful World.” Artists would stand at the bottom of these same mountains and ask the Gods to gift them with magic. Hence where New Orleans got throwing down their beads from their balconies.
This forgotten Parish laid a near Ghost Town thanks to the Christian Movement in the 50’s and 60’s where preachers mocked the land and called it “La Loon.” Until after Katrina when New Orleans became desperate for hope. Once again they looked to the Mountains of La Lune and traveled into the Parish to once again pay homage to Papa Legba and Madam La Lune.
The city is reborn but honors the old.
Welcome to La Lune Parish.A land where buildings that seem abandoned are deeply rooted into the earth. The citizens of all have the same kiss of mischief in their eyes. We will welcome you with open arms as we rummage through your back pocket. Not always to pinch whatever we might find, but also something procure any talisman we can use to bind you to this place. This is where the Law is determined by which directions the wind blows. Where Chaos is subjective, drugs are considered alchemy and sex is merely another expression of art. Music always lingers in the air and people dance down the streets. Where Voodoo is not a religion but a faith filled walk of life. When you become a native you will hear Papa Legba’s dark laugh, see Madam La Lune watching New Orleans and her beloved land from a top the hill. The place that Charles Bukowski once said of it’s citizens. “We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”
If you’re lucky Papa or Madam might happen upon you at the docks and whisper “Bienvenue à la maison.” If you don’t know French don’t worry it isn’t a spell or a curse. It’s just our Parish’s Motto…
“Welcome Home..”
When you say the words New Orleans those who have breathed in the city take a moment look at you and get a wistful smile. Justifiably so New Orleans is the Birth Place of Jazz, Home To Marie Laveaux and the Pinnacle of Old Hedonism in the New World. We will give NOLA all that. But to the locals, the ones whose ancestors whisper in the wind tickling you while you drink, inspire you to do things you would normally never while here, they will give you a sage nod and quietly mutter “La Lune.”
If New Orleans was a child, La Lune would be it’s ever watchful mother. Oh we know the Parish was not established until 1818. It doesn’t mean it hasn’t been here longer than New Orleans. Just not recognized by design. History will say Hurricane Sabina caused a flood that engulfed half of the state and made massive formations that looked like hills. Let the world believe what they want. To us locals, we subscribe to the truth. What truth might you ask? This is the one that only few people know. The one where Papa Legba was roaming in one of his many earthly forms and happened upon the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Madam La Lune. After some chase and mischief confessed she was the spirit of the Moon and like him roamed the earthly plane out of listlessness.
Papa Legba and Madam La Lune became lovers. Ran wild, naked and free in earthly forms. They fused the waters with life, the air with artistry and the land with Passion and Lust. Papa named the land La Lune after his most cherished concubine and lover. In order to protect their earthy Valhalla, Papa Legba raised the lands and created hills in order to hide them from the world. It is said the muses themselves would laze at the shores. At times throughout history they would soar across the hills into New Orleans and stand behind artists and inspire them. Although like any immortal mischief would run amuck and often times the spirits fled into the over the formations after they would cause such disruptions.
Those native to the Bayou know this is where Marie Laveaux and Doctor John came to gather their most powerful Juju. Only those blessed by Papa Legba himself could practice in the swamps on La Lune without immediate ramifications.
La Lune is where The Blue Dog Roams. Where Faulkner wandered high on Absinthe and was inspired to write Soldier's Pay. This is the land where Louis Armstrong, George David Weiss and Bob Thiele sat drunk on it’s hills looking down at it as they composed “What A Wonderful World.” Artists would stand at the bottom of these same mountains and ask the Gods to gift them with magic. Hence where New Orleans got throwing down their beads from their balconies.
This forgotten Parish laid a near Ghost Town thanks to the Christian Movement in the 50’s and 60’s where preachers mocked the land and called it “La Loon.” Until after Katrina when New Orleans became desperate for hope. Once again they looked to the Mountains of La Lune and traveled into the Parish to once again pay homage to Papa Legba and Madam La Lune.
The city is reborn but honors the old.
Welcome to La Lune Parish.A land where buildings that seem abandoned are deeply rooted into the earth. The citizens of all have the same kiss of mischief in their eyes. We will welcome you with open arms as we rummage through your back pocket. Not always to pinch whatever we might find, but also something procure any talisman we can use to bind you to this place. This is where the Law is determined by which directions the wind blows. Where Chaos is subjective, drugs are considered alchemy and sex is merely another expression of art. Music always lingers in the air and people dance down the streets. Where Voodoo is not a religion but a faith filled walk of life. When you become a native you will hear Papa Legba’s dark laugh, see Madam La Lune watching New Orleans and her beloved land from a top the hill. The place that Charles Bukowski once said of it’s citizens. “We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”
If you’re lucky Papa or Madam might happen upon you at the docks and whisper “Bienvenue à la maison.” If you don’t know French don’t worry it isn’t a spell or a curse. It’s just our Parish’s Motto…
“Welcome Home..”