Maybe it was the guy playing the horn under the First Street Bridge. Perchance it was nothing in the mailbox, no bills (good), no money (bad). Some days, Austin lives up to its publicity. Might’ve been Little City Coffee at Bookpeople.
That horn, at first I thought it was someone practicing their cornet solo skills, but there was something odd about the tone. Nope, it was a horn. As in the horn of an animal. Oh yes. I thought it sounded familiar, like the call of the wild. Or hunter’s horn, from a more primitive social circle; although it has been suggested that there’s a strong similarity between some of my friends and more primitive cultures.
I was unsure of my destination after I turned around at the post office to head on homeward. I checked the time and had a sudden insight, Hofbrau (the original, thank-you-very-much) was still open for lunch. At a recent meeting, several folks expressed concern that Hofbrau wasn’t really all that good, as the food was nothing more than a slab of steak, greasy salad and about three fried potato strips, and it certainly didn’t seem to justify the price.
But isn’t there something comforting about sliding behind the rough-hewn table, maybe, in my case anyway, actually sitting on a bench, and tucking into a sirloin that’s cooked to perfection, soaking in a plate with butter and lemon juice (light on the lemon, too).
Comfort food. However, my attitude was changed before I ever arrived at Hofbrau, buoyed by a horn player. Then, as long as I was as far north as I was, I figured I’d try to look at tourist books at BookPeople. Which lead to coffee, which lead to the purchase of a new book by Bruce Sterling, The Zenith Angle. Which, if it’s like any of his other works, is bound to be good.
It’s a sign, I’m sure.
(Door broken. Please use other door.)
