Sentimental Slush

[check Lizz's blog about her trip, Ndafunga Dande]

Saturday was Lizz's Send Off Party at Chicago's Grafton (my fav place for Irish whiskey) then Lincoln Karaoke: a proper night of booze and friends topped with a rendition of Toto's Africa. The wave of tears at 2 am can be blamed for my forthcoming mushiness. And tears again on the train after leaving lunch with Lizz yesterday.

It would be easier to have the type of friends who want to stay in one place and rot. I have the friends who are smart, moody, independent and ambitious. Today Lizz goes home to Zimbabwe. And now in New York, in Maine, Indiana, Chicago...in Zim my People are scattered about. Things are shifting, like tectonic plates shaking-up life. It's hard to believe I incited part of this, that I was feeling brave and crazy enough to move away.

I undergo daily yearning for company with my friends and family. Yearning to be face to face with the ones I most adore. I feel like a child who wants what they can't have. If you have loved any People, you might know this variety of suffering.

We are strong enough, I am, to go alone on our journeys. Yet I am vulnerable to the thoughts of what I left behind. It's changing and can't be changed back. With desperation I wish I could contain all my friends in one place, one city, to waive their rights for choosing paths. But those are not my kind of friends. My sort know better than anyone how to let loose, endure, rise above, and never accept the norm. I am lucky to know them; I'm learning that luck doesn't mean getting just what I wanted.

Steady Girl

While driving down the highway with the Austinite via Hawaii, Casey, he commented on the bad driver in front of us. "You have to watch out for the migrant Mexicans; they're the worst drivers." Hmm.

ME: How do you know they are migrants?
CASEY: Because all the migrants drive beater cars.
ME: [in my head: are all beater cars therefore driven by migrants?] How do you know the person is Mexican? We can only see the back of their head.
CASEY: Because it's Texas.

Rather than slap him upside the head, I needed this little reminder not to stereotype this state. It only takes one example to create a stereotype, it takes 100 to break a stereotype. If I keep assuming things, I'll miss out on learning something new or meeting new people.

That being said, let's get down to the stereotypes...
I saw a guy wearing shorts and cowboy boots today. There are people who run along the river path in the morning, in cowboy boots. Construction workers wear cowboy boots, and I wonder if they are steel-toed. Must get boots to fit in with the natives.

It's a pleasant thing that I rarely see women wearing makeup here, and dressing-up is what I think of as dressed-down. However, if it is cold outside or a man wishes to get dressier, they wear sports coats. Not coats/fleeces/hoodies, they wear old school curodoroy jackets or navy blue blazers, or even jackets with elbow patches. This is over the pearl snap shirts and with blue jeans, even with sweatpants. It's oddly formal, like a postcard of a bygone era.

Toothless

Toothless is what Dan referred to Austin as when I met him for chips and queso at Kerby Lane. I get the feeling from a few people that chips and queso is the thing to eat, and Kerby Lane is one of the few 24 hour restaurants in Austin so it's a good place to do it. I also had pumpkin pancakes, and they put every pancake I've ever had before to shame, I had no idea they were supposed to taste that good.

Hadn't seen Dan since high school and it was good to see a familiar face, and a fellow writer at that, and have a few laughs.

Moved the rest of my stuff out of storage then played pool at Rack Billiards on the east side of the highway. The east side is supposed to be the sketchy area of the city, but to me it looked like any bar in Northwest Indiana. The only difference is that the waitresses wear no makeup but show a lot more skin. As in: mid-drif shirts, or men's vests with no shirt beneath, plus skinny leg jeans and boots over the pants. There is supposed to be no indoor smoking in Austin, but that rule doesn't seem to apply on the east side.

Annoyed with my own bad habit of smoking, I have yet another reason to quit. Most places in Austin do not take out of state IDs for liquor or cigarette purchases. Out of towners should consider themselves warned.

My new friends

The problem with new construction: it leans towards shoddy. The gaps they left in the new tile grout have allowed a tiny-red-ant infestation in the bathroom and the kitchen. My new friends are so tiny that they are impossible to kill by smashing, so I've resorted to execution by drowning or douses of dishwasher soap. Temporary solution: stuffing the grout holes with toilet paper and hair gel. At least I'm finally making use of my hair gel.

Went out with Ty yesterday, one of the guys I met while playing pool. Went to a very busy bar that hosts an 80's cover band, the Spazmatics, every Wednesday. Butera would be pleased with their performance, all 4 hours of it, but I felt the need to leave after the third encore. Got a slice from the pizza street vendor, a slice I'd compare to cheap frozen, but even bad pizza hits the spot.

Ty is my first contact with a legitimate full blood Texan whose only trip out of state was to Panama City, Florida, when he was 23. No joke, this guy has never seen a mountain, a foot of snow, or the Mason Dixon Line. He wears point-toe boots, pearl snap dress shirts with the V back-yoke that screams Western wear, and calls everyone friend, pronounced 'Fruh-ind'. He refers to many of the city-dwellers as Liberals. Like, "Y'all don't need to go to that part of the city. They're ruh-eel Librawl. Austin has all kines uh people." I have exhausted our friendship because we really have nothing in common to talk about, but now I know more about hydroponic tomato growing than the average person.

Saw Leslie finally. Leslie is an Austin celebrity who has been mentioned by every single person I've met so far. Why is he famous? Because he is a cross-dresser. Wait, why is he famous? I think he might be the only cross-dresser in Texas. Leslie is a full-bellied brutish man with a good week's worth of facial hair. Rumor has it that he wears thongs out in public. When I saw him, he was wearing a pearl snap shirt, a jean skirt, and knee high boots. Probably the ugliest man I've ever seen. If he made it to Chicago's Boys Town they'd be quick to offer him a makeover. But here in Austin he draws a crowd of young and old, people take pictures with him, they buy him beers, and the locals think you don't know the city until you know Leslie.

Coming out of the phrat house today: Two guys in fitted jeans, shirts tucked in, big shiny belt buckles, aviator sunglasses, and cowboy hats. My definition of normal needs a geographic adjustment.

book stores, etc.

Went to the renegade book store yesterday, and defended a customer against the biligerent owner. Have no idea why I entered the argument, other than the fact I had nothing better to do. Went last night to Book People, which is the largest book store in Austin, I think the largest in Texas. Not quite the Mecca I was hoping for; I've been spoiled by the 4 story Borders on Michigan Ave. But they do a lot of author readings, and they're hosting events for this month's National Novel Writing Month, which I'm trying to participate in. Writing a novel in one month = 1200 words/day. I'm not quite there yet, but I keep trying.

The electrician finally came to fix my hot water heater, and while he waited for it to heat I pulled out my cartoonish map of Austin so he could point out his favorite spots. We went across the street for lemonade, yes, I kidnapped the maintenance guy of all people. He used to be in finance, worked for Enron, so we talked some about my current project. I like the place we went to, it's a huge yard full of old furniture and mismatched tables. Mostly old porch swings, those plastic/chrome classroom chairs, and a fountain made from a rusty watering-can pouring into a bathtub.

Applied for waitressing jobs, but I am highly underqualified. I have experience, but every server at every restaurant is covered in tattoos and I wonder if I look to clean-skinned for employment. Austin has more tattoo parlors than any other city in the south, and it shows. Just outline tattoos mostly, not the colorful 'sleeves' I'm used to up north.

I have Cedar Fever as they call it here. The juniper trees are starting to pollinate (they call them cedars) and I'm a sneeze-aholic every time I go outside. Some relief to the allergies and the warmth came when it rained today. I heard the thunder, then the rain came, and two minutes later it was done.

Funny things so far

Lots of people riding in the bed of pick up trucks.

Everyone calls me ma'am.

Everyone who asks my age says I look great for 28. Meaning that 28 sounds old and they expected more wrinkles and gray hair. Damn college kids.

On game days, EVERYONE wears orange. Hook 'em horns. Football is life here.

People say Brea'fas (breakfast).

When I say "Chicago", people say I have an accent.

I have seen 3 vehicles with large horns as hood ornaments. Awesome.

The trip down

Train ride to Austin from Chicago: an uneventful 30 hours, but I got a lot of writing done.
Taxi from Amtrak to apartment: shared cab with some guy who is now my myspace friend. Yay! My first new friend.
Got to my new place around 8pm and the electricity was not yet on. I tried to settle in, using my lighter, but gave up. Went walking for 2 hours, mostly around the UT campus which is surprisingly quiet and empty at night. Bought toilet paper at CVS and went home. Called Yvonne and Nathan in a moment of panic when I realized I'm here, and everyone I know and love is somewhere else. What the hell was I thinking?

Friday: Electricity on, but no hot water. Wandered around from 28th down to 6th where the more touristy bars are and lots of live music. Some retired guy offered to by me a drink, which I accepted, drank, then ditched him. Went back into the same bar (Buffalo Billiards) and played pool by myself, then with a couple on their anniversary, then with a few guys who have since offered to help me move my stuff out of storage. In the meantime, I am sleeping on the floor and have no towel/dishes/furniture/pillow. It's like camping, but with a microwave.

Saturday: Spent most of the day at Starbucks, checking email, bus maps, etc. Went to dinner with guy I met while playing pool. Ordered 2 meals (on his dime) and brought home leftovers. Called a few people, and started keeping track of who I call each day so I don't repeat in the same day. I don't want to look desperate, but whatever, I just got here.

Sunday: A few hours at Starbucks, then practiced Banjo for 3 hours. Then back to Starbucks. It's open til 2, and I think I'll stay until then. Still no hot water. I keep calling Jon, and he either lost his phone or hasn't charged it, which is completely unacceptable since he should know that I'm trying to call and should have his phone at the ready.