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Friday, November 28, 2003
Taco Land
It was a good Thanksgiving.
I grew up in San Antonio, in Monte Vista historic district to be exact. Our house is probably about 90 years old. It's big, 2 stories, a porch, and upstairs porch, 3 bedrooms. And it's old, did I mention that? Coming back here is always a trip. It really takes me back. One of the things about this house that stands out to me is the water. Granted, San Antonio water, in general, is hard. But the water at my house, maybe it's the old pipes, is really hard. It always makes my face feel like it's going to crack into many small pieces after I take a shower. This fact tormented me as a teen with a bad complexion. It was a constant cycle of oily skin, dry skin, oily skin dry skin. I'm not bitter.
One of my favorite things to do when I come home is play my dad's acoustic guitar. It's a Gibson from the 60's. It's not a great guitar, but something about playing it is always inspiring. It makes me want to sing from my soul. It brings out all the songs I've written that I don't like to play for other people. The ones that I can't help but feel like I'm down in it the whole time I'm singing. I love that feeling.
Today my brother took apart his Sega Dreamcast, gutted in, and re-housed it in a cardboard shoebox. He's a great guy. He's 16. His name is Fred.
Tonight I went to Taco Land, a local music club, for a Johnny Cash tribute night. I had been under the impression that I'd never been to Taco Land. When we got there, I instantly remembered that when I was 10 or so I went there with my parents for my neighbor Don's birthday party. That was back when my parents still hung out with a crowd that was, for lack of thought of a better word, counter-culture or "hippie". I remember playing with my friends on the deck of Taco Land. Running around or something. I remember that it was fun and that all of our parents were probably drunk.
Speaking of drunk, I drank a little tonight. I always feel funny drinking in San Antonio. I'm accustomed to sobriety in this city.
This house is cold. It is, as I said, big, and old, and therefore not well-insulated and difficult to control temperature-wise. There's no central heating or air. Right now the only thing providing heat to the downstairs, beside my young body and the lamps, is a gas heater on the wall in here. It's not doing a great job. Gas heaters in bedrooms are funny. If you leave them on all night with the doors closed, you wake up with a killer buzz. I wonder if I would have been smarter if I'd grown up without a gas heater in my room. I never want to get out of bed in the morning when I'm in this house in the winter or fall. It's too cold. Alternatively, in the summer, I want to get out of bed as soon as possible, and take a shower. Except then my skin gets really dry.
I played "Halo" on the x-box with my brother today for about half an hour. He kicked my ass.
I think my parents are going to sell this house within the next five years. I'm not sure how I feel about that. This house is where I grew up, my whole life prior to college, except for a small apartment when I was four when my parents separated for about a year. I've always had a dream (I'm not sure how important it actually is) that maybe I'd be rich someday before my parents had to sell the house, and I would buy it, and fix it up, even though I never want to live in San Antonio again. But, they need to move. This house is just plain uncomfortable to live in. The water's hard, the heating is poor, it's way too big for them, the property taxes are well above what a musician and a secretary can afford, etc. This house has been my father's project for the past 25 years or so. I know he dreams of it being beautiful (not that I don't think it's beautiful, but it's beauty is more in its character right now). I don't know how he'll feel if this dream is never realized. My mom would prefer a small, comfortable house. I think she would be happier there. I think my dad would too, maybe. I dunno. I've done so much in this house...
Enough nostalgia for the night. Tomorrow it's back to Austin. I have a programming project to complete for work. I have jobs to look for. I have French to learn. I have... things to do. I hope everyone had things that they could feel thankful for today. I'm thankful for my family and my health and some other stuff that I can't think of right now. Oh, my friends. They're high on the list. And my good hearing. I'll be sad to see that go.
Good night and sweet dreams.
I grew up in San Antonio, in Monte Vista historic district to be exact. Our house is probably about 90 years old. It's big, 2 stories, a porch, and upstairs porch, 3 bedrooms. And it's old, did I mention that? Coming back here is always a trip. It really takes me back. One of the things about this house that stands out to me is the water. Granted, San Antonio water, in general, is hard. But the water at my house, maybe it's the old pipes, is really hard. It always makes my face feel like it's going to crack into many small pieces after I take a shower. This fact tormented me as a teen with a bad complexion. It was a constant cycle of oily skin, dry skin, oily skin dry skin. I'm not bitter.
One of my favorite things to do when I come home is play my dad's acoustic guitar. It's a Gibson from the 60's. It's not a great guitar, but something about playing it is always inspiring. It makes me want to sing from my soul. It brings out all the songs I've written that I don't like to play for other people. The ones that I can't help but feel like I'm down in it the whole time I'm singing. I love that feeling.
Today my brother took apart his Sega Dreamcast, gutted in, and re-housed it in a cardboard shoebox. He's a great guy. He's 16. His name is Fred.
Tonight I went to Taco Land, a local music club, for a Johnny Cash tribute night. I had been under the impression that I'd never been to Taco Land. When we got there, I instantly remembered that when I was 10 or so I went there with my parents for my neighbor Don's birthday party. That was back when my parents still hung out with a crowd that was, for lack of thought of a better word, counter-culture or "hippie". I remember playing with my friends on the deck of Taco Land. Running around or something. I remember that it was fun and that all of our parents were probably drunk.
Speaking of drunk, I drank a little tonight. I always feel funny drinking in San Antonio. I'm accustomed to sobriety in this city.
This house is cold. It is, as I said, big, and old, and therefore not well-insulated and difficult to control temperature-wise. There's no central heating or air. Right now the only thing providing heat to the downstairs, beside my young body and the lamps, is a gas heater on the wall in here. It's not doing a great job. Gas heaters in bedrooms are funny. If you leave them on all night with the doors closed, you wake up with a killer buzz. I wonder if I would have been smarter if I'd grown up without a gas heater in my room. I never want to get out of bed in the morning when I'm in this house in the winter or fall. It's too cold. Alternatively, in the summer, I want to get out of bed as soon as possible, and take a shower. Except then my skin gets really dry.
I played "Halo" on the x-box with my brother today for about half an hour. He kicked my ass.
I think my parents are going to sell this house within the next five years. I'm not sure how I feel about that. This house is where I grew up, my whole life prior to college, except for a small apartment when I was four when my parents separated for about a year. I've always had a dream (I'm not sure how important it actually is) that maybe I'd be rich someday before my parents had to sell the house, and I would buy it, and fix it up, even though I never want to live in San Antonio again. But, they need to move. This house is just plain uncomfortable to live in. The water's hard, the heating is poor, it's way too big for them, the property taxes are well above what a musician and a secretary can afford, etc. This house has been my father's project for the past 25 years or so. I know he dreams of it being beautiful (not that I don't think it's beautiful, but it's beauty is more in its character right now). I don't know how he'll feel if this dream is never realized. My mom would prefer a small, comfortable house. I think she would be happier there. I think my dad would too, maybe. I dunno. I've done so much in this house...
Enough nostalgia for the night. Tomorrow it's back to Austin. I have a programming project to complete for work. I have jobs to look for. I have French to learn. I have... things to do. I hope everyone had things that they could feel thankful for today. I'm thankful for my family and my health and some other stuff that I can't think of right now. Oh, my friends. They're high on the list. And my good hearing. I'll be sad to see that go.
Good night and sweet dreams.
