I never thought I’d say this, but Banco de Gaia is life. Actually, Toby Marks is a decent fella who has a history of making solid music regardless of fanfare. All told, I can totally respect the guy for being out on the fringes. He keeps going. Given my own history of nothingness, I have a strong respect for his tenacity.
What about moving back to Arkansas? Why does that sound like a good idea? No, not moving back to Texarkana (never back to Texarkana). Was thinking about it while making my bed tonight. What if? Where? Fayetteville or Hot Springs? And, seriously, how would I make money?
I’m so shell-shocked by my current job. Maybe I should escape and find a part-time gig bringing wireless to the back woods. Fukkit. I dunno. Maybe I should quit computers and find something that makes money in an area that just doesn’t understand computers. I dunno.
If not I.T., then what? Fuckifiknow.
Nobody said I had to stay in Austin. Actually, my love for this city is unrequited. Austin doesn’t give a shit for me; it doesn’t even know me. Then why be a small fish in a big pond? Opportunity? Moral grit? Comeupance? But for 16 years this has been my home, and I’m so accustomed to it. I’m 44 and am becoming less flexible as the years pass. Eventually, I’ll move somewhere else and end up missing all of the creature comforts that are only found in Austin. (But, just like I miss some of the creature comforts of Greensboro, so I’ll miss those of Austin.)
So then, I ask: what next? Where and Why? I don’t fucking know. I hate computers. I hate loneliness. I need reconnection to humanity. If I can’t find that in Austin, then where, eh? Where?
I can only feel something good when I’m drunk. Because I’m nervous as fuck when I’m around you people. And that fact makes me more nervous.
I keep hoping I’ll have a breakthrough, a glorious moment when I’ll realize where I actually am, what the consequences actually are, and where I’ll stop giving actual fucks and be the amazing man I was meant to be.
Remember that night after the night when we first met? We were hanging out at Maxine’s in Hot Springs, getting our buzz on. Live guitarist sang “Come a Little Bit Closer” as part of his acoustic coffee-bar set. Remember that girl, the waitress? Remember, during the chorus, she put down her tray on our table and sang, directly to me, the whole chorus, as if she meant it? I just sat there and smiled and blinked while she went through the entire rousing chorus, as if I’d never heard it before. Such an amazing, impulsive girl.
(That night was impulsive, what with my planned trip, but your impulsive ride-along — we’d just met!)
Well, something like six months after the little one month relationship you and I had, I went back to Hot Springs, just to hang out and spend the night in a motel (needed to get away, y’know?). Well, the following morning I had breakfast at Shoney’s (remember those?). Yeah. Guess who sat at the table next to mine. You guessed right: the cute, impulsive waitress…and her girlfriend.
As is the way of things, I was not her kind of man. Neither so big nor so strong.
The irony of the whole thing is lost on most of the world. But I see it. And now you do, too.