Keeping Austin Weird singlehandedly

I love living in Austin. I've tried unsuccessfully to convert my family and friends into moving here too, not just because I miss them all terribly, but I want them to live in a place as great as Austin. Alas, they just won't listen....so they won't get to experience on a regular basis the "Roller Coaster" drive, aka my drive to and from work everyday.


This means driving east on Highway 290, which becomes Koenig Road when it crosses I-35, then Allandale Road when it crosses Burnet Road then Ranch Road 2222 when it crosses Mopac Freeway. The 13th Floor Elevators wrote a song about this drive called "Roller Coaster" on their 1st album. Members of the band used to drive up to Mount Bonnell to smoke pot so the Austin cops wouldn't bother them and this was the way to get there. It really IS like a roller coaster; I can't imagine making the drive while stoned. I drive it at 45mph, which is the fastest I feel comfortable making the hairpin turns going up and down the hills, and people fly past me like I'm standing still. I HOPE they're not stoned.....

It also means that they won't get to stand in the very spot where Austin Police shot Charles Whitman to death on August 1, 1966, when he decided to go up to the observation deck on the University of Texas Tower and start shooting people.
"There was a rumor about a tumor, nestled at the base of his brain".
- Kinky Friedman, "The Ballad of Charles Whitman"

I don't know about a tumor, but he was obviously crazy if you look at how he was dressed:

This was August in Texas, people......105 degrees outside, and this dingbat was wearing two sets of clothing. He probably welcomed getting killed by the police. Anyway, since my husband works in the Tower, we've been up on the Deck several times and it's always rather creepy, even with the beautiful view. Here's my feet standing in that same spot:

Notice that I was smart enough to wear only one pair of pants, plus I didn't have any pot, so cops were nowhere to be seen.
Why would you want to live anywhere else?

42

My great-grandparents used to play a dominoes game called "42" with their friends. I knew how to play dominoes, but I never found out where the 42 entered into it, unless you added up the dots on your dominoes. Seems to me like the game would be over pretty quick.....

I turned 42 today and Adrian treated me to a lovely day. He bought me a book I wanted ("The Story of the 13th Floor Elevators and Roky Erickson") and treated me to lunch at Red Lobster. My co-workers were baffled at my choice of restaurant for my birthday nosh, but Red Lobster has given me 30 years of comforting memories.

My mom used to let me skip school on the days when my grandmother had to drive to Dallas to get her post-colon cancer check-ups every year. She had colon cancer surgery in 1976 when I was 11 years old and for 5 years after that, she got checked every year. After her appointment, she would take me to lunch at Red Lobster on LBJ Freeway in Garland on the way home. My mom and I would eat at that same Red Lobster whenever we went to Dallas and she had the money for it. It was always a HUGE treat.

I ate there with my mom and my friend Esther on the day I had to check myself into Presbyterian Hospital psychiatric ward. It was a small bright spot in an otherwise horrific day, and it's the only part of that day that I remember really well, besides my new roommate falling asleep standing up in the hospital that afternoon. She was taking Halcion and had shuffled hypnotically over to my bedside to comfort me, her slippers rhythmically sliding across the floor in short bursts. I was sitting on my bed whimpering, because not only had I never been in the hospital for anything at that point, I was in the hospital now for being CRAZY. The Halcion kicked in at mid-sentence and she started snoring while she stood next to my bed with her hand on mine. I was so afraid she would collapse and hurt herself, I picked her up and laid her on her own bed. I hadn't slept for 2 weeks prior to that and I didn't sleep that night either, even though the nurses kept dosing me with benzodiazepam. It worked eventually, because I don't remember the next two weeks that I was in the locked ward. I had visitors apparently; Esther and her then boyfriend came to visit me and he was so freaked out by my "zombieness", Esther had to talk him out of kidnapping me from the hospital and taking me home with them.

That Red Lobster eventually became a funeral home. Adrian always wondered why they didn't keep the lobsters on the funeral home signs. It would have attracted sailors, so maybe they should have: "Let us bury you at sea, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!" or maybe "You stab 'em, we slab 'em, YARRR!!!" or how about "When you're dead, you ain't red no more!" Garland wasn't really anywhere close to the sea, but you get the idea. I don't know why people don't hire me to think this shit up for them.....

at the bottom of the well

This week's homework assignment from the shrink is:

a. name 4 things I'm good at
The only things I could come up with related to work or how I do my job. I can't say that I'm a talented artist like my husband or a great educator like my friend. I can't even call myself a musician anymore. I guess I'm a good worker and I don't find much comfort or pride in that. It's like saying I'm a good donkey. I can't call myself a writer because I don't write. I can't keep a flow of words going anymore. It's too frustrating.

b. name 4 things that are good about me
When I get in black moods like I'm in now and have been in for some time, I can think of NOTHING. I'm not fishing for compliments here; this is an indicator that my depression is back very strong and perhaps I shouldn't be fighting myself about going back on to antidepressants. I've never had a healthy self-respect but my self-loathing is getting out of control lately. I don't like myself. The fact that other people may seem to tolerate my presence doesn't have any effect on that estimation.

c. name some clubs or associations that would be fun to get involved in
I joined Wheatsville Co-op but I haven't been to any meetings. Maybe I should go. I have no idea about other clubs in Austin; I'm sure there are loads but the idea of being among lots of college-age kids holds no allure for me. I do plan on Googling this subject to see if any clubs exist specifically for middle-aged depressed women with nasty attitudes. How about a "TOO OLD TO BE EMO" Club?

Farmers Market - links aplenty!

Last Wednesday, I stopped by my local farmers market on the way home. There's a small one right smack dab in the middle of a newish housing/retail complex here called the Triangle. There were only about 15 or so stalls, not nearly as many as the big one downtown on Saturday mornings, but it was pleasant enough and I got some great stuff.

I bought some lovely squash and some bell peppers, also some locally made soap that absolutely rocks ass, as my pal Shelly would say. There were several food vendors there, so I stopped at one and bought a couple of frozen Boomerang's Aussie meat pies for dinner. An Australian version of a Cornish pasty, these had light flaky crusts and the fillings were quite good as well. There were also vendors of pizza, Nepalese vegan food, grass-fed bison and bistro-type fare, and live music on top of all that.

I would encourage anyone who reads this to visit the farmers market in their own hometowns. I remember the one in Greenville, where I grew up. My mom would always want to stop by there when we were downtown because the vendors had homegrown tomatoes and my mom LOVED tomatoes. They tasted better, looked prettier and were cheaper than the ones you found in the store. That's how farmers markets usually are. The produce I bought was about the same price as the organic produce you'd find at Whole Foods, but it was more convenient to get to after work. Plus, it's not just produce, there's other fun stuff too and it's a relaxing stroll. It's a great place to hang out on Saturday mornings or whenever your town's market happens. You'll get to buy beautiful fruits and veggies (probably grown in someone's back yard or "back 40" as they used to call it) grown without pesticides, bursting with flavor and goodness.

If you wondering why all the links, it's because I just figured out how to do it. It only takes me a few years.....just like it did to learn to eat healthy.