Wednesday, November 22, 2006

I'll see you in Austin, but I won't have long to stay.

I'll be the first to admit, I've lived a charmed life.

I'll also be the first to admit I'm a few Fat Tires in. And I'm going home to Austin tomorrow for the first time in 11.5 months and can't wait to see my family. So naturally my mood is a bit on high.

But back to the charmed life bidness.

I'm a Texan by birth. There are worse places to be from than the capital of cool, Austin. I'm still trading on that.

Then, in my 26th year, I moved to New York and was there for a glorious year-and-a-half of feeling like I was kind of a daily visitor to their great city. Then September 11th happened and I decided "well, I suppose I'm a New Yorker now." We all were. And for the remaining year-and-a-half I was. I suppose I still am. I always will be.

Funny thing about being a New Yorker is you're trained to be a New Yorker. To be tough. To be hard. To be streetwise.

Between you and I, I'm none of those things.

I'm too laid-back, too nice andtoo trusting. But I managed to play the part. Even the part that says "don't like LA 'cause it's all a big, fake sham full of people obsessed with fronts and facades, status and transportation." It's hard-wired. We were so far above all that pettiness. Right?

Funny things happen when you infiltrate this fair city for two weeks. You start to fall in love with the place. And then on your last night in town (at least until next week) you stop by the dope-ass Otheroom on Abbot-Kinney. A couple of beers. No big deal. The place is filled with laid-back and nice people. Then they start playing tunes.

The Beatles' "Baby you're a rich man", Pavement's "Stereo", TV on the Radio's "Wolf Like Me" , The Doors' "Soul Ktichen." And then suddenly as you sit there, it kind of hits you. This could be home.

I'm off to Austin tomorrow for the holiday weekend and back on Monday to wrap this spot up next week.

Then I'll go and get my stuff.


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