The Wee Democracy

RECAP

april 13th - josh meets josh

i take the hound to austin, leaving dallas around half past noon, and taking note, rather quickly, that if you're white and riding the hound, you are about 80% more likely to be in possession of stickered-up guitar case. the bus ride down is uneventful enough, and i actually catch about an hour's worth of sleep. i wake up about 3/4 of the way to waco, which is almost half way to austin, then i just read and listen to music and think the rest of the way.

i do a lot of thinking on the bus, and sad to say, melancholy josh makes a ferocious comeback. he's a tough little bastard to kill, and he makes such a convincing argument, you've just got to listen to him. but i manage not to let him get me down, and things perk up a bit when i see the familiar austin skyline.

i take a cab with a friendly black driver who, i guess, has maybe about 10 to 14 teeth left. he's actually very nice and gabs an acceptable amount, and mainly about things i can talk about. this is the moment, as we're driving west on 26th street through the northern end of campus, that i realize that this is no longer my home. the place i felt most comfortable for so long (though i bitched about feeling implicitly uncomfortable for the majority of my time there) feels foreign and empty, and i feel like al bundy, trying to recapture the glory of four touchdowns at polk high.

but i arrive at smoot's, feeling alright, barging in like old days, and shortly thereafter finding myself swilling a budweiser. we talk, i change shirts as the other one is a tad sweaty. we take one of his friends to the airport and call up a mutual buddy, sarah k, for dinner.

at dinner, i am in top form, and am letting sarah k have it with both barrels, making jokes that make her blush, and, inexplicably, get mad at mark instead of me, as if he were my handler, a parent who's spoiled little child is pelting the maitre'd with peas. she survives, though.

we go to stubbs, to see rosie thomas and josh ritter. josh's show is one of those rarities where a musician is as good live, if not better, than on the album. changes are minor, and mostly, for the fun of a live venue. many of my favorite songs are played, and he breaks into an unplugged solo a few songs in, when i am close enough to hear everything.

dana shows up, as per our plans, but is clearly tired, and is only so-so into the music. the set is great, but short, maybe only 40 to 45 minutes. there is an encore, but the wait is maybe only a minute, because the crowd is maybe only 50 or 60 people deep, and we're not sure if there's even going to be an encore. but there is, and it's cool.

afterwards, i meet and talk to rosie thomas, who is cool, and whom i've developed a minor crush on. i ask for a cd, even though i don't really really want one, because i feel it is the right thing to do, and i want her to like, hug me or something. she doesn't, but in the end i'm glad that i bought her cd. it's pretty badass. i also buy hello starling, which has been out for some time now, but i had yet to procure it.

so it's while i'm standing there, shootin' the shit with RT, that josh ritter walks in with a wee little fan club surrounding him. older women, i surmise, who are trying to mack on the dude, and name drop and shit. he tries to escape there fueled-by-alcohol-clutches, but i still have to wait, like 5 minutes before i get to talk to him. but i do...for like ten minutes, there's me and mark and dana, just shooting the shit with josh ritter.

i tell him that i heard 'come and find me' on six feet under, and that i'd been hooked ever since. he confides that much of his family on his father's side is in the undertaking business, and that he was a stud for getting his song on that show. rock on, i say. he impresses both myself and smoot for asking people what they do. it's very nice and personable, and the man seems genuinely flattered to have fans say things to him. he's the kind of guy you just want to be friends with. ok. maybe i developed a minor crush on him, too.

i sleep at dana's.


april 14th - tessa arrives, and i lose my voice, most improbably

i wake up today, filled with the most lovely of promising feelings. i stand in the shower, fretting over what to wear, what to say, what to do, when tessa arrives in this afternoon. i've got plenty of time, but still...i love the anticipation.

i watch some espn, some E! and eventually get my shit together to head back to mark's place in west campus. the bus ride is short, and fairly easy. i think were i to ride the same distance in dallas, it would probably take about an hour, as opposed to the 30 minutes it took in austin. i'm convinced mass transit in austin is far more organized these days. i hit his place, and then we head to a little sandwich shop of north lamar. they're good sandwiches, and i get the small one. it's a very filling meal, and i'm stoked about the fact that i ate a hearty lunch for around 4 bucks.

we watch the sopranos, which are badass. we have just finished up the second episode when it's about time we departed to pick up the tessajane. lil flip and david banner have to be picked up first, and the famous tessa voice rehearses before it's triumphant return.

when we get there, she's nowhere to be found, and a moment of panic washes over me, a nameless dread that we've lost her, and she's taken a cab to god knows where only to turn up two days later, wishing me a good trip back to dallas!! she eventually shows up, a victim of the second worst air disaster - a delay. the first, i'm informed by her, would be best described as airborne fireball.

hungry from her flight, we decide that shady grove is the place to be for dinner. and though i have a forbidding feeling about sitting outside, mark and tessa are adamant, it being a "lovely" day. i am staunchly anti-sunny days, but i concede, only to be convinced that i am without a doubt the person in possession of the shittiest luck, and the gift of foresight. i am pooped on by a bird within minutes of arrival. the little bastard, whom i then name osama, perches atop this big fuckin' tree, many yards away from my best knife throw. i wash off my hair (my beautiful luscious hair) and return to the table, vowing revenge. it is mere moments later, that mark is attacked by this winged savage, and, too, pooped on.

we hurriedly finish our meal, fearing that he's merely waiting to strike tessa and complete his masterpiece. little fucker.

we go to the grocery store, and i engage in one of my favorite mark-tessa-josh pasttimes, which is to steal her shopping cart and hide in the store for a few minutes. we buy beer.

she's tired so we drop her off where she's staying...a sweltering sesspool of indie rock and oodles of noodles. mark and i retired to the old E 243 and watch us like, five hours of basketball.

interestingly enough the most riveting game comes from LA and Portland. if LA wins, because sacramento has lost, dallas will NOT have to play the lakers come playoff time. so we're cheering for a team we absolutely loathe. and the end of regulation, kobe (whom i think is guilty, personally) makes the most improbable 3 pt. shot ever to send the game into overtime. i cheer...loud, screaming, yahooing. weird. then, at the end of double OT, he makes the new most improbable 3 pt. shot i've ever seen and they win the game. i swear i felt something fly loose in my throat, and my voice is gone for the next several hours. weird.


recaps continue tomorrow, covering the rest of the trip.



feeling: weird
thinking of: thomas wolfe, and the re-emergence of e-beth
albums for the trip: josh ritter - hello starling
rosie thomas - when we were small
death cab for cutie - transatlanticism
an elliott smith compilation