There’s a special sense, a pervasive feeling, standing on the south shore of the river, maybe up a little from the river’s bank, in one or two particular parking lots, the hot asphalt, the wind stirring up from the Gulf Coast, the Texas sun causing early little heat eddies, and that smell. It’s sort of a fried food smell, only — fried seafood. It evokes a strong memory of being on the coast some place, the beach sand grinding a little under the foot’s sandal, gulls wheeling overhead in the evening air…. No, I swear, I get this feeling from time to time, in certain places in East Austin.
>Keep on trucking, reply if you want & make me grin.
Made me grin, along with the rest of the note from Australia. Or some place on the other side of the date line. The Cappy girl grabbed me for a lunch at Hut’s Hamburgers, famous for its longevity [“God Bless Hut’s”], and then I had a chance to finally explore that place which is one source of the aroma of fried oysters, with the fried seafood, after more than five years in the ‘hood, I finally wandered into Mariscos at the behest of a Leo. One newsgroups I read had a link which lead to this link. Bizarre down under humor? (warning, adult only graphics). Bad spam news, here.
