"Louque Letters To Elwood"

 

Greetings Elwood,

I was sipping my coffee this morning when I saw the little sticker you gave me with your address on it and I decided I’d write to you.  I’m the guy in the VW van at the car wash a few days ago.  We spoke but it wasn’t small talk.  We spoke of the journey of man and race.  

You struck a chord in me when you said you wanted to move back to Africa.  I can’t say I blame you.  Though I’m a white man, I want to move to Africa too.  We spoke of the blood on America’s hands and real truths like the evil that was Columbus.  To me we lost a lot when we exterminated the life the Natives were living.  They had figured out a lot, both survival skills and spirituality.  To me, they were the baddest dudes on the planet.  On their journey to the America’s, they spent 10,000 years crossing the Bering Strait in extremely cold temperatures.  

I love that you’re part of the Houma tribe.  I’d love to keep in touch.  My number is (504)875-7216.  And you can find me and my music from my website below.  I release all music under my last name Louque.  

Kind regards,

Dustan Louque

dustanlouque.com

"Louque Letters To Mathew"

                                                                                                                             

                                                                                                                                                                 August 16, 2022

Greetings Matthew,

Just wanted to thank you for your purchase.  The Louque name really means a lot to me and I work hard everyday to honor the hard work those before us did.  The Louque men made a smooth transition from the farm to the factory but there was no handbook for how to become an artist.  Over the years I have somehow managed to capture the essence and stories of old Grand Point/St. James Parish in song to share with the world.  

I hope this finds you well and finding the courage to walk your own unique path.   When I printed the label and saw Jennie Rd., my heart skipped a beat.  She was so beautiful and I think of her from time to time.  I think of all the folks we’ve lost a lot actually and try even harder.  My work becomes a prayer.

Kind regards,

Dustan Louque

Letter's To Noah "Soldiers"

                                                                                                                                         February 28, 2022    

                                                                                                                                           New Orleans, La.                                           

                                                                                                                                                            

Greetings Noah,

I'm disappointed in the human race too.  Still I march on.

Kind Regards,

Dut

Letters To Logan "Under The Blood Red Sun"

                                                                                                                                              February 6, 2022

Greetings Logan, 

This morning, I came across a quote that said that one is more likely to achieve their goals by keeping them to themselves.  I thought you should hear that.  

It reminded me of the wild dreams I began to have for myself after childhood tragedies in Grand Point.  Life became precious and time……..time was so slow in old Grand Point but when Joey died, I stood on the corner and contemplated my future.  It was effing on!

Seriously, at first I expressed myself through sports and it was the familiar language in the River Parishes but then I discovered a talent for music at the ripe age of 19.  The best thing about sports was the structure and being able to define the parameters and knowing what work you had to do.  But art is a ship lost at sea and I had to figure out how to wrangle it back to some sort of shore.  I had to find my tribe and their was no guide book.  

My advice to you is to follow those things you love and stay curious and work like our ancestors in the field.  I think this summer we should go spend a few hours working in the hot field, under the blood red sun.    It’s enough to propel you to work through any kinds of coming conditions.  When it got hard in New York, all I had to do was think of those in the fields of Grand Point.  

But seriously, it’s great to have dreams.  But roll up your sleeves and do the work.  I live in fear of the little boy who made grand declarations to himself right there on Grand Point Lane.  I fear to disappoint him, so I work like hell to be enough.

Much Love,

Dut

Letters To Patti Ann (Chapter 9) "The Spirit Journey"

Dear Patti Ann,

When you briefly died, you said that it held up a mirror to the world and how it was a beautiful sight because you saw the story of life unfold and that we are all the same.  The pain of being in the human body finally made sense.  I believe we’re only seeing a few dimensions in which we live.  You saw that the vastness of spirituality goes far beyond our dimensions.  Humans are at the threshold of a new consciousness and if we can discipline ourselves to apply the new knowledge with our technology, growth will prosper exponentially.  

Love,

Dut

There are some things a song cannot say.  Some things can't be metaphorical.  Some things need to be plainly spoken.  Our language in Grand Point morphed over the years from old world French, Creole into broken English and then a hybrid of the two until now.  I believe we must be curious about the past and where we've come from or else we're doomed to repeat mistakes.  We are so caught up on our devices in the information age.  So caught up in wrong and right and appropriations.  

The world is a melting pot.  Louisiana has been one for a while.  It wasn't always pretty right there on the river and the humans made some bad choices.  When I look back on the history of man, my mouth opens wide and i can't believe what I see.  In the far reaches of my mind, I can scarcely remember when the feeling of being the innocent child who didn't know the horrors of the world or tragedy.  But time marches on and teaches you her value.  It's precious.  

No matter how great man becomes, he will never know what happens in the after life.  Never.  There's no political movement or $2 bill that will save him.  He is alone in the wilderness.  Thoreau said, "it's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see".  

After 911, I had a dream that America stood up to the world and laid down her arms and declared us evolved citizens of the earth and would not be fighting anymore.  The new Greatest Generation had arrived and the hero had no sword.  There was wisdom and understanding and the belief that we all started from the same place.  Humans started from the same region, with a handful of beings that had traits of all future mankind.  The language changed as appearances changed with each year and travel. The earth changed under our feet and our bodies responded.  Stories were told and repeated and forgotten and retold and histories rewritten and our languages morphed.  We are more the same than we'd like to admit.  Perhaps, we are like the message being passed in the classroom.  We can't stay the same and no two will be alike. 

We've adapted to the great man theory of history; the idea that through sheer will the visionary genius can transform everything.  This conception of change as a top-down process, with revolutionary ideas handed down from above, is profoundly antidemocratic.  It's the only way for an imperialist society to thrive.  Everyone must believe the tale.  The tales of heaven and order on earth.  Oh and consume greatly.


But if we are not careful and only seek happiness through pleasure, we will become a slave to the things that are outside of ourselves.  True joy only comes from within.  In stillness.  In the now.  Not in future or past.  Learn to be in the present for even the future you lust will someday be your present.  

"As you step to the front of the line in your ancestry, the energy they embodied has been passed on and is now expressing as you and those of your current generation in the lineage. As you transform, the energy of the entire lineage preceding you is transformed, for it is all happening now through you, as you. You are the one who can heal old wounds for your entire lineage, forgive old enemies, shift conditioning and beliefs, release pain that has held preceding generations captive for centuries." -Dr. Judith Rich

Saturday Morning Cartoons

 Saturday Morning Cartoons

After my friend died, I put on his sun glasses to feel the cool and I mean cool.  This guy dealt with cancer for 20 years and acted like it's just another day.  It's good to assume everyone is fighting a great war.  I don't like assumptions though.  Mostly they're negative and not healthy to carry around.  

I look like a cartoon character with these shades on, hiding behind billboards of cool.  Billboards of cool, I like that.  Sure are a lot of them these days.  It's been a whirlwind but I have settled in to my mustache.  I feel like a citizen with a purpose.  It was a raging war.  Much love on a Saturday from Louisiana.  It's sweet relief to get just taste of fall.

Letters To Steve, "Ode To A Meat Sack"

Dear Steve,

I felt compelled to brief you on my journey as we have become so connected recently through life and music. Through purpose.  

This photo is special to me because it reminds me of life before I knew tragedy.  I can't even remember what that naiveté was like, it must have been a soft, pillowy cloud.  I was reminded of this time when I got to your house and was throwing passes in your front yard to Rivers.  I remember the first cool nights when fall finally fell on Louisiana and we'd throw the brand new nerf ball and leave the plastic wrapper on.  

But this little path of innocence was not to be mine for long.  On this very street,  I heard a loud screech of a motorcycle trying to stop and then it hit my mamere's car and the little kid on the back went flying in the air and plunged to his death right before my eyes.  For years I thought of ways I could have saved him.  Maybe if I were faster or bigger or stronger.  

My cousin Joey used to teach me how to throw passes in the front yard.  I could drop a ball in the smallest crevices.  Float it real high and drop on a dime.  He saw me play one time in high school before he passed away tragically.  It was the most horrific thing I've ever been a part of when my Aunt Marie came barging into the house at 6:00 in the morning screaming.  I vowed to myself outside of the house on this same corner to live an interesting life and to push myself into the unknown and find meaning and purpose and when I got a better understanding of it all, give it away and express it somehow.  

In my high school years, sports played a huge roll for me.  It gave me an outlet to express all the things I had been feeling and a way to push myself and give my all.  Though I excelled in other sports, I was more drawn to football because I could continue to perfect the art form of passing and carry on in honor of my cousin Joey #11.  The rage in my heart allowed me to play much bigger than I was.  My coach told me I could throw further into the wind and tricked me into thinking I ran a 4.6 when it was more like 4.8.  When I showed up to McNeese State for an official visit, my recruiter was shocked at how small I was after watching my films.  Another coach saw me in the hallway and thought I was looking for the cheering squad.  I stayed on the team for a year until I had the guts to make a change and go into the unknown.  It was hard leaving sports behind, especially football because it was my form of expression and my identity.  

I once heard a guy play piano while in college and I was overcome with desire to learn music.  It quickly became a way for me to connect with some of the spiritual lessons I had been learning.  It didn't matter to me that I was only a beginner at 19.  I just thought nothing could be harder than stepping on a field where everyone was bigger and faster.  Of course music was going to be hard and my fingers hurt trying to learn guitar but if I could learn how to sit in the pocket, I could learn this over time.  I applied this "can do" attitude towards anything at this point because I was searching for my purpose.  I even got a few acting rolls in commercials and film and that led me to faking my way into acting school in New York after reading Marlon Brando's bio.  He was from a small town too, so I figured I could really do something with my life no matter if I was country or not.  

It was amazing to be in New York.  I learned so much in the school every day.  Mostly that I was indeed an artist and I shouldn't be afraid.  I bought some recording gear and made my first record "So Long".  The first song I ever wrote is the song "Art".  I was so scared in the vocal booth with all the engineers looking at me share my raw feelings.  It wasn't cool to be so naked but I had come from a different place and from different experiences and my main talent was vulnerability.  During this time my cousin Patti Ann, Joey's sister, came down with meningitis and lost all her limbs.  It was crazy how the same family had to go through another wild tragedy.  She gave me a lot of strength, especially when she learned to walk again and drive.  She was a badass.

Atlantic Records bought my little record from me and put me on a poster and threw me up high on the wall to see if I'd stick.  All the executives talked to my forehead and gave me the thumbs up and said "hip and cool" all the time because I came from the artist neighborhood of Brooklyn called Williamsburg.  It was a hard path for me because something didn't feel right and I was disconnecting from my life path.  It felt a little outside-in for me.  I didn't feel I had the weight yet to stand up in what I was creating and I was afraid of becoming famous, losing my privacy and spiritual path.  I was about to hit the road again, off into the unknown.  

The record label dropped me after I didn't show up to a few concerts.  I was left alone and most people in my life at that time disappeared.  One month, two months, a year passed and no one called to sign me.  It was a terrible feeling.  I was getting weak.  Thoughts of Joey and Patti Ann weren't giving me that courage anymore and was starting to doubt if I was a strong as I thought I was.  When you guys were playing the Falcons that night, I was sitting in a bar alone thinking and trying to stay positive and find resilience and then you soared high with your arms stretched to the heavens.  It was quite a moment.  It breathed air into my spirit and gave me some lightness.  

I tell you all these things because all these moments and life lessons are in my music.  Today you asked me to send lyrics to you and it's almost like I'm singing your story.  I'm glad we met and to call you friend.  I'm feeling a sense of purpose these days.  All the trials and experiences and meditations are giving me much clarity.  

When I got home from New Orleans, I did some yoga and meditation and I thought of you and purpose and resilience was swimming in my mind and I began to happy cry and this ancient voice sang a song through my meat sack and I felt my unborn child and felt in touch with my ancient ancestors all at once.  It was like I cut off a limb and was made new again.  I had never had such a profound experience.  

I know we're only scratching the surface here.  I needed you to know I'm up for the challenge of the work we're doing.  In college, I put our huge free safety on his ass.  I'm not scared.  

Kind Regards,

Dustan