I wouldn’t have been back from Europe yet but it’s time you all know I never went. I’m in Austin, Texas. It’s one of those organic-clothing, designer-food, people’s republic, college towns like Cambridge, like Boulder, like Santa Cruz, like, I’m told, Eugene, Oregon.
Except that the live music scene is apparently much better: something
I, live-music-hater-extraordinaire, can neither confirm nor deny. The city is: eminently bike-able, very much worth the (But It’s A Dry) heat, and cheaper to be in than the rest of those towns.
Last night I actually went dancing and spent a total of $2.50 for the entire event. One potent gin/tonic and no cover charges.
The only drawback seems to be a kitten that likes to preen and stomp across my body in the morning, claws out and meowing loudly.
I do miss home. I am avoiding certain a host of pains and familiarities.
I’ve realized that if I have any hope of going to LA in August, I don’t have the money to fly home between now and then.
Please take care of my tree house. And my own home town. Whichever and wherever that might be.