I was tapping the Austin Stories portal Thursday morning, really before any coffee, and I stumbled through one of Greg’s entries. Funny, brilliant, but that first question got me….
Something about, “What movie describes your life right now?”
Although, I much prefer the book to the movie. The movie’s good. The book is excellent.
Except, I’m updated since Sister made me accept an iPod. I won’t be mixing tapes, or rearranging a record collection, I’d just be reordering the play list. Ultimately, there’s something very comforting about having old-school punk come up next to new-old-school opera next to “classic rock” next to “classic rap.” Then a little techno and conjunto, thrown in for good measure. And some twangy, pure Texas music. To boot.
My Virgo neighbor had the day off, and we were supposed to get together. One thing led to another, and I whiled away the afternoon throwing lures into a windy lake. I got some back, one was snagged on the bottom, another was blown into a tree. Some days, the vegetation wins.
So the Virgo did materialize, around five. Just in time for a heinous rush hour. Dropped a few packages off to be shipped out, Xmas gifts.
Meandered through the snarls of cars to the Buffet Palace place and tied on a feed bag. Bad sushi. Great other stuff, but really tremendously bad buffet sushi. Being a Louisiana girl, she turned her Southern nose up at the crawfish, but I found them acceptable. I was doing pretty well at plate four or five until I opted for one last pass at the dessert bar. Bad move. Over did it just a little.
So the next destination was a big brand-name store, and a little more Xmas shopping.
“Kramer, you’ve been so nice tonight, why not stop off at my place for a cigarette and I’ll have some wine?”
Remember the dessert that knocked me down? A feller has to know when to call it quits. I wandered back to my trailer still ahead of the game.
Morning flight out to Tulsa, frozen land far north of Texas. And from there? Hopefully to OKC and the Bass Pro shop. I now have to replace a half-dozen lures lost to the wind.
“Land so flat you can see LA, It’s a flatland boogie with a mercury five – tornado alley is always hot and dry, its cotton fields and cattle ranches honky-tonks and all night dances…”
Is it odd to step on a jet airplane with the tune from a juke-joint band’s song? Slap bass, guitar, singer, not much else. Pure acoustic heaven.
(Flatland Boogie on Wayne Hancock’s Swing Time – highly recommended.)
