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November 25, 2002

Howling at Midnight

It’s weird how being in a strange place gives you an unspoken sort of license to do things you wouldn’t normally. In my case, it usually consists of both drinking and talking too much.

I had fun in Houston this weekend.

Things got off to a perfect road-trip start, with Khattie and La Rita (her van) showing up Saturday morning with yummy coffee for me. We picked up all our charges and hit the road with me as co-pilot.

Khattie is the sunniest, funnest lady I know. She’s tops to have adventures with, because for her, everything is an adventure. We played records that we loved, smoking cigarettes and screaming along at the top of our lungs. Patti Smith, the Gossip, Loretta Lynn. There’s something so pure about driving and singing.

I really like Gina, the girl we stayed with. Her new band, the Kimonos, played their first show Saturday night, and they were excellent. The Bad Apples played a fun, drunken set, and the Houstonians didn’t seem to know what to make of them, but the Donnas sure did. They liked them, and told them so. It was too crowded trying to watch the Donnas and I was tired of being shoved around by asshole boys and standing there mentally deconstructing the Donnas mythos, so I just went back downstairs and saw the Down and Dirties, though I must confess I remember absolutely nothing of their set. I was a cocktail on legs that night, beer, vodka, tequila… Like I said, things you wouldn’t normally do.

I ran into an old friend from Austin who had moved away and was back in Houston and talked his ear off about i don’t even know what. I was really happy to see him; I don’t know if he felt the same way after an hour of my drunken rambling. Sheesh.

The night went on and got weirder. There was a wee accident with a parked car, but everything was fine. There was confusion and sex and rock and roll and drugs and a late night argument, all whirling around me.

Luckily, I was passed out and missed a lot of the drama. Everyone got to discuss it over yummy Mexican breakfasts (Spanish Flowers in the Heights, I think. I recommend it. Delicious, thick tortillas and mariachis playing such sad songs I almost cried) and coffee. Then back into the van, back to Austin, back home. Sunday night and restful reading and visiting with Jacob.

Posted by pogo at November 25, 2002 2:21 PM