Untitled Document

Astrology Home Buoy

Sun in Gemini

6/20
It was one of those days. I remember why I hate Monday, at least, on some occasions. Junk mail, weird stuff in the "in" box, bizarre phone calls, and clients who can't seem to link up with my schedule, "Well, Tuesday's not good, how about Thursday? You're out of town then? How about Friday?" Wednesday is wedding day [and Ma Wetzel in town]. Got to play around with a digital camera for a while, I'll post the pictures as they become available. Going to try for another photo shoot next week. Answered a note like this, too: "now you know why Texicans are so friggin' crazy. It's the weather. Or the women. Maybe both."

6/19
Couldn't resist the fine weather much longer, and I stepped out for breath of cool summer air — okay, so by the time I had walked about half a mile, I was drenched in sweat, but every once in a while, a gentle breeze blew up from the river bottom, making all okay. The gray clouds kept threatening rain, but not delivering — and I figured it as going to stay like that. I followed an unusual route through the canyon of downtown, over the hills, and headed to Amy's. Got a coffee/ice cream shake. Then I wandered into Book People, right before the sky let loose with a large amount of flash water. I sat by a window and read magazines, there's something I was looking for, and I meant to buy one of the magazines, but since it looked like more rain, I figured it would be better to wait for a dry day. I bought a large cappuccino [Little City currently has the coffee concession], and ambled homeward. There was something else I meant to do, the whole reason for going this way in the first place, besides Amy's Ice Cream, and the Book People magazine rack. A freight train sounded in the distance, and I remembered. I picked up an Amtrak schedule — the thought of riding the rails has a certain appeal. The 'Texas Eagle' leaves Austin in the morning, and gets to Ft. Worth in less than five hours. And since that town ain't got a big airlines flying in — it just seemed like an avenue to explore. The romance of the rails.

6/18
I still have my motivational deficit going on, but I've also got an infuriatingly busy week coming up. And the prospect of sitting at home in a trailer in front of a word processor doesn't thrill me, but the other options all seem like various forms of escape — and not good ideas. With web access, though, I can pretend to be working, and really just shopping around on the net. Sure, spending money I don't presently have. But Peg-o-rama saved the evening — she caught me just as I was hopping out of the shower, and there was no excuse for not showing up at her annual going away party. According to some, this woman has it made: Winters in Austin, summers in Portland, OR. And while I was carefully listening to two blond Pisces women discuss relationship, I heard the most amazing tale of truth, "So I was shopping for the perfect, uh, nightgown to wear — one that looked perfect, crumpled up on the floor...." The image I had was one of these females, walking into a Victoria's, looking at lingerie, then tossing it on the floor.

6/17
I woke up late yesterday morning, with vague noises issuing from the neighbor's trailer. I sat in front of the computer's monitor, looked over at my accounting program, and I found the difference between a deadline, and check which hasn't arrived to be a little disturbing. Motivation was at a low point. When I was walking yesterday, after a coolish morning, and as the humidity reached an unreal 110%, I tucked all of my hair under a Royal Shakespeare Company gimme hat. I had tried pulling my ponytail out of the back of it, but in the Houston–like weather, that was still too hot. There was supposed to be a reenactment of "Friday's on the verandah" — something we ain't done around here in a couple of years — and a former Shady Acres denizen popped by to see us all, but it just didn't work out quite right. But we were promised BBQ, Fajitas, all the good stuff. "Tomorrow, man, I promise, tomorrow, soon as I get off work."

6/16
"It's only kinky the first time — you'll learn to love it." "Uh, Kramer?" "Yes?" The fun of the surreal phone answers wasn't over yet, and it got a good laugh from the other end. One of the producers for web content was calling to check a few things. And it turns out, something slipped by: in this week's Sagittarius scope, it read "the beatings will continue until the moral improves." Should've said (which it does, now): The beatings will continue until the MORALE improves. I know that one by heart. But from checking various locations, it seems this has slipped through — at the very least — three different editors and/or copy desks. Guess my work is problematic as it does make sense the other way — only it's not as much fun. "And some of it was little short...." That's not a complaint I usually hear — being too short. The weirdness of the day just carried over into the late afternoon. I was downtown, then I started off for a bookstore on foot, sort of meandering aimlessly through the lawyer offices west of the capital. A car pulled over, "Hey, can you — I know you — you're [former girlfriend's name] friend, Kramer." I was shirtless, and leaning into a car, trying to make sense of map. Not knowing anything has never stopped me from giving advice — I think it's a hereditary trait. Moving on, I went hither and yonder, after stopping long enough to pick up a CD for friends, I finally wound up at Amy's on 6th — Jed was the manager at the time — and it was a rare time to be in an Amy's as the place was empty except for a crew: Taurus, Scorpio and Capricorn. "You have to play a game: here, take a tasting spoon and throw it in the freezer. Then you have to sample whatever ice cream it lands close to." I hit Cherry [something] three times. I stuck with my traditional Mexican Vanilla for dinner, the butterscotch had caramelized to a dark, chocolate–like texture. With my bowl of ice cream in hand, I wandered next door to Sparks, and checked out cards. I was hoping the Scorpio [Harris County girl] could find something suitable for shipping the CD in. "Do you have any 'Oh baby I'm so sorry' cards? Something with a degree of groveling in it?" "Why, are you in trouble?" "No," I replied, "but I always like to be prepared — I'm male — I'm sure someone will get mad soon." Around sunset, with brilliant colors arching across the western sky, I started towards the trailer, and I caught the bat show at the bridge, as well as the tourists. I'm still way behind on getting stuff spooled up for the rapidly approaching deadline. And my clients are calling with alarming frequency. Not sure what to do about all that work — these summer evenings are just too much fun — the Red Head came by after she got off work, and we looked at the Sagittarius Moon.

6/15
Every Wednesday night, for the last five years, from wherever I was, I would log onto AOL using their proprietary software, and click my way to the Astronet "conference room" and do readings for about an hour. It's called Bubba Hour, and I've been through a host of hosts, but I did this — more or less — every Wednesday night. With the demise of my AOL account — the same electronic address I've held for more than 12 years, I have no way to log onto AOL and be the guest and give stuff away for free. I picked up the phone, after a terribly busy morning, and answered with, "So I told the judge, 'that's not what she said....'" "Uh, who is this?" "Kramer." "Uh, I must have the wrong number." Just trying to do my best to make everyone's day a little more surreal. Next call: "What? No anchovies? Then no pizza." Love that Sagittarius Moon. [I noticed the moon went into Sagittarius about the time I started fielding calls with surrealistic answers.]

6/14
A few weeks back, I was pestering one of the owners of Texpresso about Egg Nog Latté. As much as I am politically opposed to "corporate coffee" [with a stand on every corner], ultimately, my taste buds direct me. I remember trying various outlets for Egg Nog Latté, but there's really only one who has been able to deliver so far, the ubiquitous Starbucks. I had an iced (hand pressed no less) Texpresso ["only the richest, creamiest, most delicious cup of coffee — dramatic pause — in the world"], and I was sipping this as I sauntered past Starbucks. Then it hit me. Might of been the caffeine, but I prefer to think it was inspiration: That egg nog whatever is good, but only happens once a year. I can get Texpresso year round. Must make it a winner. After listening to the Hall Brothers go on about their various trials and tribulations in getting a coffee shop up and running, I made some other realizations, about supporting the small, independent businesses which are, supposedly, disappearing each day. Vote with the pocket book. My hard earned money goes for Texpresso concoctions. Or bookstores like "Adventures in Crime and Space," when I walked in, the owner looks up at me, and says, "Third from the left, second shelf." It was a book I'd asked for — about two weeks ago — just got it in.

6/13
It was raining and the sun was shining. I love Texas weather. I got a chance to run downtown yesterday, and I took my digital picture taking thing as I wanted to get just one good shot of the sign in front of Texpresso. One of those "things" I've been getting around to, but never quite made the leap, was a chance to upgrade my e-mail engine. I've been using the same program since — it's just been a very long time. I liked it because it was one of the few programs which could access AOL proprietary e-mail protocols, but losing my free status with AOL means it's time to get a new program. And since Microsoft is now an underdog, I figured their free e-mail program might be the ticket. "Time remaining to import records: 4 hours, 27 minutes."

6/12
Interesting web statistic: hits on the Monday holiday were almost half the usual volume — which means almost half the folks are checking this web site from work. Sunday morning, I swung by to pick up the girls at their hotel, and some of the Harley boys were out in the morning light, fiddling with their respective machines. As one tall Gemini came out of her hotel room, I said, "Get in the truck," and guy looked up in a surprised way, "'Get in he truck, bitch?' That what he said?" The Gemini went along with the charade, if only for moment, and I looked like manly man. Another comment came from a wanton Scorpio girl, chortling, "Who's your daddy?" Right, like this happens every day. Please, allow me my fantasy. I was going to ruminate about books being made into movie, and the reverse. Or screen writers who make obvious novels with an eye towards a movie deal. Pedestrian prose, though, that's the problem. I remember reading Neal Stephenson's "Snow Crash" for the first time, then finding out it was originally destined to be a comic book. I get a hint that there there's a new genre of literature about to explode on the scene. Then there's this one [completely unrelated to anything].

6/11
I cranked up the e–mail program and put some effort into a nice note to the management at AstroNet about the canceled AOL account. I was trying to be nice, polite, but firm, too. Hope they got my point. I've had the same e–mail address for over 12 years, some sort of a record in cyberspace, I would guess. Then one morning, while I was on the Left Coast — poof — I was no more. Between gentle rain showers, and amid two suitcases filled with dirty laundry, and a loudly complaining cat, all I could do was be grateful to be home where weird is rather commonplace. Although, I did like the idea of the "coed naked massage" out of doors at the Easlen Institute in Big Sur. While the Stars were apparently losing a game in overtime, I was eating sushi with a Gemini friend who was passing through town. Then it was off to Don's Depot for an evening of music. On the dance floor, there were "hats" (real cowboys), old timers, and even kids shuffling around in sandals — and one Grateful Dead tie dye. Interesting mix. Diverse. Defies demographics. I didn't feel the least bit fashion challenged with purple plaid shorts and green Hawaiian print shirt.

6/10
I was going over some of my notes, and I came across a funny entry — seems that I was helping Sister learn all sorts of things about her computer. I stumbled through her calendar, too, and there was one entry: "Vacuum." Yes, I had to ask. "It's there, like, if I get any time, or something, you know, a reminder." Oh. So that's what a Gemini has in their handheld — and desktop — digital calendar system. Then, there was one of those last minute, just heading out the door of the cabin things which occurred yesterday morning, and being away from a phone line, I never got chance to correct it — AOL canceled my free account. It's an account which I have had for more than ten years. Being too busy, and frankly, not in a position to care too much, I just figure I'll let that one slip away. I'll wait and see if management bothers to reinstate the free service. If they don't? Is it worth $21.95 a month?

6/9
Part one: Getting on Mr. Airplane and heading back to Texas, where it's going to be warm. I'm not sure whether I should be grateful for a cold front which had me scrambling to put on everything I had with me, or if I should be grateful to returning to place where the weather is more temperate. Travel day, today. Got a great picture of my sister, up here. Part two: I hate looking at an airline ticket when I'm already at the airport, that sudden, sinking sense that there's nothing I can do, my life is completely in the hands of some stranger. Delays are bad, but intentionally scheduled layovers are the worst, just enough time to either get in trouble, or get really bored. Or some combination of the two. I was going to write eloquently about the wind moaning along the tops of the trees, at the edge of the Pacific, where the world collides with the fantasy realm, a place where the sky and the ocean seem to come together. But stuck in airports instead.... then, I had the ultimate in long distance walks. Good thing I've been in training, and a long walk is nothing new for me. The shuttle flight landed in SFO at 87A. That particular gate is at the furthermost reaches of the northern terminus of SFO — the gate is almost in Sonoma. My homeward bound flight, now it was leaving out of gate 17. Get a look at a map of the gate layout. #17 is so far south, it's practically in San Jose. Yes, I made the trip — without incident, until I arrived at the gate. Like a beacon in the night, like the lighthouse down in Big Sur, there was a Peet's Coffee stand calling to me. [Peet's runs a very close second to some of Austin's finest coffee shops and beans.] "Sorry, exact change only — computer's down." "But you can make me a double wide cappuccino? If I have exact change?" "Sure."

6/8
There's just something which goes with being on vacation at a Left Coast version of a dude ranch, yes, it did start before sunrise yesterday, and it did continue unto the wee hours last night, but for day supposed to be devoted strictly to Sister, I sure had a good time. While posing for pictures at the breakfast bar, I had my arm around Sister, and the nature of the food caused a sudden buildup of internal pressure, and I let a little one slip out. Problem being, what I let slip out was a noisy one, and the thought of her brother letting a fart go, right there, had her doubled over with laughter. Maybe I'll get that picture up. We popped into the Easlen Institute, and she arranged for massages for both of us. In keeping with the spirit of the Left Coast, and the Institute's prevalent progressive attitude, it was a naked massage out in the summer sun, in front of just about everybody. Didn't bother me a bit — in fact, it finally worked out a few kinks. Sure, that was weird, even by my standards, enjoyable, but a bit strange. We stopped off at Nepenthe for drinks on the way back to the cabins. I slammed some Cappuccino, and Sister was swigging down Chai Tea. Not for the first time, we seemed to be isolated in the restaurant last night, and no one was seated close to us — it might have been the very fashionable clown hat I gave Sister for her birthday, or the fact she wore it like a crown for the evening.

6/7
I took a relaxing hike in the Big Sur countryside yesterday morning, and that was about the only time I had any space to myself — Sister's birthday occupying most of the attention otherwise. I always wonder if it's normal to need a vacation to recover from a vacation, and this morning, before the sun was peeking over the edge of the hills around the cabin, Sister was on the phone again, "Are you up? It's my BIRTHDAY...." There was a sense of peace and calm, just moments before, and I saw a couple of white tailed doe ambling through the brush with some yearlings around them. Just to get my Sister's attention, I mentioned the deer, and how they reminded me of chili meat.

6/6
I looked over yesterday's stories and realized I never got the German story completed. There's this darling couple, from Germany, the husband is attached to the German Air Force, and his wife frequents the fair circuit I'm associated with. At dinner, Sunday night, he was sampling Shiner Beer, a long time Texas staple and legendary brew, and he was also trying to get his German accent around the word Shiner Bock. It had a comical effect. Monday morning, I was up early, and having a cup of coffee with Grace's husband, out in their backyard. A little hummingbird alighted on one of the bird feeders. The Franklin Mountains sparkled in the crisp morning air. While it was warm out, the dry desert air made me shiver a little. Phoenix Sky Harbor, and just a little over an hour to kill: the ultimate treat. Well, not really, because I'm so vehemently opposed to corporate coffee, but there's a Starbucks at one concourse intersection, and Cinnabon stand at another intersection. Sugar and caffeine, empty calories and go juice. Oh yes. I'll be in a good frame of mind by the time I get to SFO. An America West employee (pilot? flight attendant?) as rude as I passed through the security gate a second time, I was politely pausing while a young lady emptied her pockets, "Why don't you just go on around her?" Funniest thing about being on vacation, I didn't bother to grab most of the e-mail until late last night, and I counted no less than six pleas for free readings in the mail bag. This is the microbrew of astrology, handcrafted, it takes time — some minor imperfections, but those add character. Means the flavor is cleaner, and there's a richer finish.

6/5
Sunday mornings in Austin — it's hard, if not futile — to find a decent place to have breakfast at a reasonable hour. But in El Paso, stopping by the EL Paso Truck Terminal, literally just off the freeway, on the way to work, the place is only half full. The coffee is hot, the plates of food are plentiful, and Grace — as well as Bubba — are ever gracious hosts. After the show on Sunday evening, sitting around the dinner table with approximately 19 readers, Bubba looks over in midstream of the conversation, and with absolute deadpan delivery, asks, "Hey, a chair massage, is that like a lap dance?" The other fun question was trying to teach a German guy how to say "Shiner" as in "Shiner Bock."

6/4
Yesterday morning, the cat surely had a "mew of distaste" displayed as I headed out the door. She's none too happy to see her feeding companion leaving for a few days. El Paso was warm upon arrival, but I sat in a hotel room for the bulk of the day, so I had not a clue about what it was like outside. I opted out of the hotel arrangements and headed over to Grace and Bubba's to surf their couch for the evening. On the way home, though, we all stopped off at Forti's for dinner. I'll have a picture up in a week or two, maybe. I got to shake hands with the owner of the establishment, after all, I've been frequenting that place for several years — five or more. After dinner, as a token of my appreciation, I goaded Bubba to stop at the music store to see if I could find a Robert Earl Keen album for him. While they had some, they didn't have the one in stock at the moment. [Live #2] "Bummer, dude." It would've been so perfect. At Forti's, Bubba — Grace's Leo Bubba — had a chance to watch a tear roll out of my eye because the hot sauce was so fiery. It more like he told a joke and I choked up, and got some of the piquant salsa caught in delicate membranes where it didn't belong. "It's good to see a Texan cry," he said. That boy's come a long way in adapting to Texas, though, as he was heaping spoonful after spoonful of hot sauce on his dinner, "Now this is some good hot sauce. Taco Bell, that's not Mexican food, not a pepper in it, this is good stuff. See? I've learned a lot about peppers."

6/3
Red eye flight to lovely El Paso. Got me a bag full of stuff, enough reading material to keep me happy on several flights, tickets, computers, think I got it all. I was a more than a little disappointed yesterday afternoon when I scooped up the office mail as there was still no supplemental check from one of my publishers, as promised. Of course, when dealing with a corporate entity, I've discovered "right away" takes time. Still this is mistake on their part, and it's been over two weeks. I sneaked a dip in an apartment pool, late in the afternoon, just to ease myself a little. The pool gates are notoriously easy to get through — just slide a pocket knife blade into the catch and there I go.... found this one last night. [Warning: bad language, at least, by some standards, clearly not mine] Late hours don't go with getting up early very well.

6/2
I know I never did give the Road Kill Canned Squirrel packaging and health food idea enough bandwidth, but I'm fixin' to hit the road for a week, and I'm not able to develop the idea fully, not just yet. But Ma Wetzel has a certain distaste for live squirrels as the little critters steal bird food from her. I'm sure she would be a viable (and willing) route for outsourcing the supply of raw squirrel product. Packaging, and sales to the health food market, I guess that's next. Maybe I need a business plan, a web page, and start looking for funding. Yesterday was weird as I've got laundry piled high in one room, clean, but it all only needs to be put away, I've got three suitcases which I desperately want to reduce to two before I leave, and I've got to carry enough stuff so that I can work at a show and go on vacation. Going to be an interesting time. One Gemini buddy popped around and we grabbed some lunch and I recycled some books down at Half Price Books — of course I spent more than I got — but at least those old books are now back in the food chain. I think they just try and figure out how little they can get away with giving the seller. It's a good business model. Had lunch at Maria's Taco Express, then a late dinner which amounted to nothing more than a Crawdad Quesodilla and a half pound brownie under a couple of scoops of ice cream, shared with the tarot student, of course.

6/1
When I get e-mail, usually a fixed sign, asking me to rearrange the planets, I am, at first, a little upset. I mean, I can feel the pain dripping out of the note, the frustration, tears begin to well up in my eyes. Then I figure it's something which the person writing me the note can do something about. Or maybe they are in situation which they refuse to change, and I get blamed for the buffeting of the winds of fate. All in a day's work. Squirrel Stew. Yesterday's morning meditation revealed something profound to me: the common squirrel doesn't get cancer therefore, squirrel meat should be a good source for whatever it is that ails you. I need to work on this, but I have visions of Road Kill Squirrel Stew being available in all the finest health food outlets before too long. I'll brand it, of course, and since butchering squirrels is not a good idea, or even raising them like cattle is inhumane, road kill is the easiest thing to harvest. Fredlet called last night, "Want to go to Dave's bachelor party?" "Uh, no, not really...." "Okay, I just thought you'd like the strippers and cigars..." That's so tacky, but I think I might have to go, just for the sake of propriety. Need to send me money? Try PayPal.com.

5/31
Since I moved to an astrology format for the online journal, end of the month duties are a little easier. That's something I like. Regular reader complaints without money is something I'm not fond of:

>What's Up? Why have you sold out to those flashin adds. It's
>verry unbecoming of you; and tarnishes the whole persona you project.

My single reply to a comment which comes down the virtual vacuum tube, my single answer is pretty much the same: send money. Severs cost money. As it is, the advertising just about subsidizes the domain I've got. Before tossing bricks, consider the trailer made of glass. I did a little math, just to satisfy my own curiosity, and the monthly new letter contains less than 1% advertising. And it's free. Or it's on the web here. Of course, two different proof readers and yet, one glaring little typo did sneak through. C'est la vie.

5/30
Some day, maybe in the distant future, I'll remember why I don't undertake home improvements, home repair, or even a simple task like adding a coat of paint. I yanked the old cabinet which was tenuously held in place by four screws, I unbolted it from the bathroom wall, which meant I had to paint where the old cabinet had been, and a quick trip to the hardware store meant I also had a slightly larger, far more elegant medicine cabinet to put up as well. Bubba Sean popped by to help on a far from memorable Memorial Day, and he hoisted the new cabinet into place, "I don't suppose you have a level?" Sure, and I produced one. So while he was holding the new cabinet in place, I scrambled around for a Phillips head screwdriver, "Dude, just go to my car, the keys are on the coffee table, and open the trunk, and in my backpack you'll find a screwdriver with a red handle. Not the black one, the red one." "But I've got one here someplace," I replied. "Exactly, and I'm holding this thing up, so go get mine. It's faster." Now, using the scientific level, we got the new medicine cabinet lined up correctly with the gravitational pull of the planet. Problem being, it's about 15 degrees off center from the corner of the trailer's bathroom. I think I'll just leave the level on top of the cabinet to satisfy the folks with questions. Looks good, now.

5/29
News from Houston? Why we call it Planet Houston, here in Texas. I had flash of inspiration after visiting Brenham, and got after some more trailer repairs, so some responses might be a bit delayed over the next day or two, as there is some fresh paint in the kitchen area, and I can't get to the coffee maker.

5/28
I never got a chance to develop the snake story, but the reason I'm so familiar with Texas Rat snakes is I had one for pet, for long time, as a kid. Wasn't too popular with Ma Wetzel, as I recall. Made a quick road trip to Brenham, Texas: "Est. 1894" (golden mirror hair salon) which begs the question about hairstyles — my all time fave — the "Come and take it" flag in the Ant St. Inn (hotel? B&B, more likely) — Brenham (brenhamwwwired) Internet Cafe - on the town square. I like this place, pleasantly devoid of much traffic. "This house guarded by shotgun 3 nites a week you guess which 3." [sign in an antique store]. Part of the road trip, though, as the route winds through Elgin, home of world famous Elgin Hot Links — Southside Market and BBQ. Damn fine end to a hot day.

5/27
I'm pretty much in symbolism, as it's parts of what I do. I was crossing a footbridge on the eastern extreme of Austin's Hike and Bike trail, and there was a snake, furiously swimming in the creek. Now, as a long time nature guy, I cold tell at first glance, ,this was a not a poisonous snake. In fact, by its bright yellow markings, it was easy to see that it's a Texas Rat Snake, indigenous to the reason, a nice guy who dines on rodents and other critters we don't like. I quickly implored the other guys fishing not to kill it. It's a sign.

5/26
More than once, folks have asked to accompany me when I do a little walking about. But it's not such a good idea. Like yesterday. I stared out in one direction, sort of mindless, a single problem gnawing away at the back of my brain, and a very specific destination in mind. I had a title for a book which one of my clients implored me to at least "check out," if not to buy and devour. Something about rock and roll, and Hollywood. But I still had one of those little, gnawing feelings that there was something just not right in the world. So much for acting noble in the face of adversity. I changed directions a few times, trying to avoid the downtown traffic, and sort of angling toward the big Book People (largest independent bookstore in town) to pick up a copy of this one text. Or look at it, anyway. I meant to enjoy a quick cup of coffee there, too, but it turned into a hot day. Now, the morning had been overcast and almost looked like rain, so I figured it was going to be a little cooler. Nice try, but that old Texas (Gemini) Sun burned through. I then stopped at the weird bookstore, and had a disjointed — on my part — discussion with the owner about some great novel which was character driven. Then he told me it was out of print. Great, sell me a book, and then tell me it's unavailable. I'm working on a new rule, one which I'll name after him. Willie's Retail Rule: if you've got collectible item, and you don't want to sell it, then put an impossible sticker price on it. I'm still working on his rule, and I don't have it in polished form.

5/25
It's a unique way to look at things, being a frequent pedestrian in city predicated on the horse and buggy as a main mode of transportation. But it has certain advantages, like the idea I got for movie, you know, starring me, in a mid-life crisis sort of thing. Call it: Texas Beauty. I had an image yesterday, while I was traversing along Riverside, a squashed beer can kept getting caught up by the passing cars and flung in the air — like it was dancing. First the flattened, discarded can was flung in the air by a big motorcycle, then a small passenger car, then when it looked like it would finally come to rest, a big truck did a nice bounce shot off the curb, and the flattened can was dancing in traffic again. It was a true work of beauty, one of those indescribable events, the can clattering and making racket, the cars pushing it around. I'm sure there's a metaphor here. Unrelated but good news — got a nice note about my sister: Sister in the press here and especially here.

5/24
I was perusing yesterday's paper over plateful of eggs and pastor, and the ambiance was a little upsetting. Somebody had brought their youngster to work with them, and that kid was interested in English speaking cartoons. One of the hallmarks of a good restaurant around here includes a television in the corner, set on Univision or some other predominately Spanish station. Hearing the background noise as Spanish helps authenticate atmosphere. And it's about the only chance I get to practice what little bits of the language I understand. But while I was reading the paper, there was mixed economic news. Living.com was laying off a certain percentage of its work force, the live club cast Internet channel was going off line, drkoop.com is still on the ropes, and there's a huge shortage of oil field workers. In fact, there's one oil field recruiter up in Oklahoma — he's taken to standing in line at the parole place and hiring folks as they leave prison — that's desperation.

5/23
"Nice bun," my ride said as I climbed in her car, "your neighbor called me, told me to look out the window yesterday, and there you were, walking along with a bun. Made me laugh." That's how a very strange Monday started. I rode on down to the office, did about 30 seconds of computer surgery and fixed the first problem, then had donuts and breakfast tacos. Really, I just had one donut. I was fetching some breakfast tacos, and my order was interrupted by the cook with a fresh tray of sticky buns, hot out of the oven, skip the breakfast taco for me, and forget my vow of no donuts. Of course, it was a sticky bun, so that didn't count. The boss never did show up. We met her at Magnolia (some surprise there) for a lunch break — Crayfish Enchiladas — and that turned into an afternoon of doing as little as possible. Since she already had a sizable investment in me, she did manage to get a few hours of work out of me. Then I motored off with a Sag girl for a quick happy hour at the Hula Hut, and then the Libra dude came by in his new boat and we tried to go to Ski Shores for dinner, but that failed. Saw the sun set while sitting in the back of the boat. Told stories about the scariest fish we've caught. Not biggest, just scariest. Then, after a long and roundabout course, I was at Ego's again, listing to the musical strains of Dale Watson. There's more to all of this tale, but it was such a welcome relief to a day when I was sure I was going to a be a prisoner in office, teased about my bun.

5/22
Sunday was a quiet day, or so it started out. It really stayed that way, but no matter what I did, the phone kept ringing. Some day soon, I hope to get rid of carrying a cell phone, but the darn thing is just so handy right now, I can't imagine that a few short years ago, I managed my life without one. I thought I was on the cutting edge of technology when I had a beeper which covered the whole state of Texas. I'm bumping into two deadlines right now, and at a loss about what to do about either one. Just as I finally got myself into the zone for working on that last column which I have to turn in, just when the words came dripping out of my fingertips like honeydew vine water, a golden elixir, the phone rang, and there went the rest of the day. I did step out of the trailer with my hair pulled back into a ponytail and then folded over. "Oh my god, Kramer, you can't come in here with your hair back in bun," the neighbor admonished. What's worse, when I wear my hair like that, I get extra sun on the back of a my lily white neck. Off to the "office" today for a little bit of contract web whacking.

5/21
I woke up this morning with that raspy feeling in the back of my throat, my hair dank with stale cigarette smoke, and a club's stamp on the back of my hand — it said "easy lay." Waking up alone, I'm pretty sure that it's false advertising. I spent part of yesterday afternoon still hunting for pocketknives on the web, and I stand by my original assertion that certain brands have succumbed to the Beanie Baby Syndrome. Last night, I was out with a client, we started at Magnolia, and I got to thank one of the owners for their Chicken Fried Tofu special last Thursday. Then we wound up at Ego's, one of the best bars in town — not exactly a high brow place, mind you, more like a real dive. But the staff (and owner) were friendly and considerate. And the live music, supplied by Soul Circus was raw, jumping funk. In keeping with the Austin tradition of mixing genres though, the music between the sets, at least what I heard one time, was a long clear "Cattle Call" [traditional country yodel tune].

5/20
Sun's in Gemini now, time to change something. I spent a great portion of last week, looking for a particular type of pocket knife. Because I travel so much on airplanes, it's always important that I have something which slides through security without a question. Between a palm top, lap top, and phone, I get enough troubled looks from the cops as it is. "Can you turn this thing on?" After looking at countless pages and several histories, and a bunch of useless commercial sites, I finally figured I'll just do this the old fashioned way — the web ain't got what I'm looking for. Maybe it's out there, but frankly, looking at a thumbnail just isn't worth it. Some merchandise just has to be handled to know for sure. Besides, after looking at some of the prices, I had to wonder about the products. One term came to mind, "Beanie Babies." And I suppose I should come out of the closet some, and admit that one of the things I do is web page construction. I hate to call it web page design, but that might have a nice ring to it: Bubba's Live Bait & Tackle + WWW Design.