Austin, Day Sixteen
Sunday, and I have a breakfast engagement with my landlady and her son, Hugo. Hugo has been running and needs a shower so the landlady and I take her tandem downtown to the restaurant while he catches us up in his car. Yes, a tandem. It’s downhill most of the way and it’s a beautiful day for a bike ride. We pedal through a fragrant little grove, the path lined with wildflowers. I am inappropriately dressed and begin to perspire profusely. I am a Sweaty Sock – a Jock on a bike for two. I do the eggs Benedict thing, (the joke goes: what’s the connection between eggs Benedict and a blow job? They’re both really good but you never seem to be able to get them at home. Sexist in every conceivable way. Personally, I frequently make eggs Benedict at home) and then check out the bookshop opposite. I buy yet more Roberto Bolaño books. Posthumously published and possibly inferior but I’m determined to read everything, I’m so in awe of him.
At the bunker I track some more vocals, lead and harmony. Then I leave Mr. McC to compile away. I nip next door to Target but they don’t have a luggage department. I could stare at luggage all day. I’m drawn to it. I have a suitcase at home that I bought in San Francisco (see ancient tales) that is so big and well made they charge you extra to put it on a plane even when it’s empty. You could live in it, travel in it, throw a party in it. It has some tracking device so the company that manufactured it can locate the thing anywhere in the galaxy should it go missing. They can destroy it with a laser beam from space if it falls into enemy hands. Suffice to say I didn’t bring it. So having bought cowboy boots, shirts, two jackets and an Omnichord I’m over capacity. I either jettison some old shit or buy a bigger case. So far I have worn and used everything I brought so I didn’t overpack. I under-suitcased. This has been vexing me. Do I expand my carry-on bag like all those assholes trying to stuff fucking trunks into overhead lockers? I don’t think I can allow myself. Do I buy another check-on bag and face the punitive charge for putting three items in the hold? Do I stuff the body of my guitar with underwear and risk it bring sawn in half by customs? Do I wear all my clothes at once and pretend to be a big fat man? I have four days to resolve this problem.
I lie on the sofa in the kitchen/lounge area of the bunker listening to music on headphones so as not to hear what Mr. McC’s up to. That way I’ll have fresh ears when he plays me his edit. We have used quite a few of the vocal tracks that I sang live with the band which has surprised me. But they have a weird quality, you can feel that everything’s being performed simultaneously. Like wot they used to do.
I drive home in the hot night, windows down, some Persian modern classical on KUT. The waxing moon hangs above the end of my street, half undressed and glimmering.
29 Responses to “Austin, Day Sixteen”
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I’m guessing you don’t get blow jobs at home. If you lived with me you would.
Maybe if you made less oeufs Benedict you’d get some decent blowies.
Good point, Bridesmaid. How do you like hard boiled?
Thanks for sharing your thoughts on Austin and the gestation of your new recordings over the past few weeks. Fascinating and I always enjoy your reflections on the world.
And now recipes… Eggs Benedict at home? I’m impressed. Ham or bacon?
Any other culinary specialities?
I’d take two overhead locker assholes over a fatty any day!
Hope this is of some assistance.
Love the shirt. Just in case you’re thinking of selling …
Come to Texas, they’re growing on trees!
Just bring me a handful of seeds, ok? I’ll try to grow that tree in my garden and try to get rich.
last evenings on earth i would take to my desert island.
Great story. But why the sad “i”s?
ba dum dum…
There is another connection between eggs benedict and a blow job. They both come with a creamy sauce.
But there’s no cream in Hollandaise. I know, creamy does not imply actual cream…
lascivious middle aged groupies eh? But you’re a serious artist. I bet Leonard Cohen doesn’t have that problem.
Good grief…are you Mitt Romney?
You are visually intimidating again.
I’ll never speak to you in real life while you insist on being so gratuitously photogenic.
Handy tip then, I guess.
I solve the luggage thing by wearing all my clothes at once. I feel a creeping satisfaction at the thought of encroaching on someone else’s space, after so many episodes of being resentfully trapped in the window seat by a fat person spilling over the arm rest in to MY space – the one I’ve paid the same price for yet find myself being forced to give way on just by the sheer mass of flesh closing in on me.
Am unrepentant and want airlines to charge by weight of passenger and luggage combined. I say this from the position of a nine stoner – so I’ll get a generous luggage quota I could smugly exploit, thus eliminating the need to wear all my clothes at once.
P.S. Thanks for the Roberto Bolaño tip.
I think that’s fair but could lead to heavy people being forced to wear light skimpy clothing on business trips and vacations. Do you really want that?
I had actually considered that eventuality. End-game being that I’d be merrily wheeling my refrigerator sized luggage past fatties having to travel in their skimpies, as just turning up took them over their weight allowance.
I have noted your diplomacy in using the term ‘heavy’ as opposed to ‘fat’. And I may sound bitter and twisted on this issue, but I can list the countless times I’ve suffered (you don’t know how I’ve suffered!) – and festered, squeezed up against windows in trains, planes and long haul busses while being too inhibited by politeness to actually say “There are TWO seats here, and I’m actually sitting in the other. If you wanted two seats to yourself, then you should have bought 2 tickets!” Repeated bad experience can do this to a girl.
Its not good for a girl to see you looking soooo bloody delicious this early in the morning when she has to sit at her flippin desk all day and try to concentrate.
I feel some day dreaming coming on…..
But then again, your commentary has made me smile again, so the day might not be that bad. xx
Mirror mirror on the wall who is the most handsome of all? That would be you Mr Currie. I’ve always thought you surname is very appropriate because you are hot stuff.
I’d rather give a man a blow job than make eggs benedict for him any day. Had a good chuckle at the joke, bet I can guess which you would prefer. Here’s a joke for you-what’s the difference between a pub and a clitoris? 95% of men know where the pub is. Forget the moon being half undressed and glimmering, it should be you. Gorgeous photo of you too.
That’s so cool that you bought an Omnichord! Try JC Penny or Macys down there Justin. They definitely have a luggage department and you really do need something extra now.
Yes too bad you didn’t bring the gargantuan galactic cruiser case! lol!
I am very happy that you seem less stressed out this evening. Sound strategy minimizing your exposure to the tracks at this point. I have no doubts that it will be magnificent in the end.
I must say you look very handsome in that photo.