Couldn’t even get out of Austin without having to stop and talk to a homeless guy, wish him a happy birthday. Leo.
I’m thinking of incorporating this into some kind of visual, for the next round of folks who start asking questions, and expecting free answers. I think it’s this week’s Scorpio that had such a poignant note about that scenario.
Fortunately, some Scorpio’s listen well. Others don’t.
I like the fact that there’s a little donation cup there. Looked like, judging from the dollar bills, he was doing pretty well. Leo, Jupiter and all, he should be.
El Paso is still so wonderfully weird. Reading and re-reading Cormac McCarthy material, as well as associated myths and legends from the area, always makes it a little more spooky. Damned old town, El Paso.
Truck stops and coffee shops and hours spent on Grace’s veranda, “Yeah, we look like real trailer trash, don’t we, BBQing in the garage?”
I guess you had to be there. A roomful of Leo’s, Sagittarius, Aries, all the fire signs represented – and civilization, such as I know it – can be found at Cafe Dali, on N. Mesa. In the coffee shop – a requested stop – by me – I discovered that store’s putative owner actually knew the difference between a “doppio macchiato” and “curtado.”
In fact, she knew to ask about whether I wanted it long or short. Two short shots of espresso marbled, not laced, not covered, not topped, but marbled with frothed milk.
Excellent. Civilization.
We spent several hours under the canopy of the El Paso night, the stars wheeling overhead in their slow and timeless procession, Mars starting to poke above the eastern horizon. Had us a couple of cigars.
And now it’s time to go to work.
