I got up in the morning after a rough night and walked the river with the many highly fit runners barely clothed on the pretty path. It was lovely out. I headed for Cafe Creme one of the highest rated coffee spots near my hostel and right next to the city library no less. I got a cold brew and wrote yesterdays post, the price was the same as it is back home at my favorite cafe, but I must admit the taste and performance was not what I’m used to. In any case its a nice atmosphere and the staff are very friendly.
From there I walked across the city heading east, through the nice part of downtown and very quickly getting to skid row, a place that very much reminded me of any number of run down hell holes in the world, but barely a stones throw away from multi-billion-dollar skyscrapers and the hoard of Ferrari’s and Bugatti’s that ring around them. There I saw multiple bare chested, barefooted white men with long disheveled hair and jeans stained with every conceivable liquid, towing one or even two shopping carts behind them. But for every white man in such a state I saw 25 Blacks, what got me was that the few whites I saw seemed the most fucked up, not even on the same planet. As I walked one of the homeless men with tattoo’s on every inch of his body and clasping some kind of amulet in his hand stopped me and I immediately thought:
“This is it, he’s going to ask me for money and when I refuse he’s going to yell at me like so many in Cali do.”
But no, he asked if I knew where to go to deposit cans for cash. I looked back towards the city, as if I knew anything about such things, then shook my head.
“No, I’m new here myself.”
And that was it, he nodded his head and continued on. The last thing I’d expect from a homeless person in California is to ask me where and how to make money with the labor they’d already engaged in, yet here I am, in Austin Texas, where even those least fortunate are out to make their way without a handout. I would of course run into others who did ask for money, one with a missing leg in a wheelchair, but he first asked for a smoke, and the other asked for money to get food, I told him I’d get him food and he suddenly lost all interest in me.
The Taco place I eventually got to, The Vegan Nom it’s called, was well worth the journey through the dystopian nightmare though, because there I found a Cheesy Gordido Crunch clone I’ve been craving for neigh 20 years. I didn’t even know that thats what it would be when I ordered it, but once I saw it, I was 13 years old again, coming or going to the Tag paintball field in Watsonville Ca. The wait was pretty long but what do you expect with a long line of people and only one guy to run the grill and the cash register?
After that I took the bus back to the city and was surprised to see it was the same bus driver I had from the Airport, that was pretty crazy to me considering how many buses there are in this city.
I got out of the bus near to my hostel and decided the two tacos I got for $15 weren’t cutting it, and stopped inside a salad joint. They had one option that was Vegan and it was very nice, I almost couldn’t finish it. I was told all the salads could be made without meat, so I’ll be going back later.
I met two people inside the hostel who would change the course of my trip, the first was an Englishman from Leads who was checking out that day but said he was definitely going to the Mothership to see Joe Rogan and friends. In the course of talking to me about life an extreme introvert named K opened up to us, or should I say me, and after that was unable to stop. In the course of our talk I learned that she had Bells palsy and never finished school, got married when she was 17, divorced at 18, had a child in her van with a stranger and didn’t know it till the doctors told her she wasn’t sick, but pregnant. The child never made it and she seemed not to notice. Her van was struck by another person living in a van and the insurance company told her it was illegal to live in a van unless its an official RV, and anyone not doing so was committing insurance fraud. So now she travels from hostel to hostel, unwilling to stay in an apartment, even when she can afford it because van life was her perfect form of existence.
This talk got me to thinking I should really go see Joe as well, I had of course been thinking about it as so many people I know told me I should, even though they’ve never been themselves. Checking the Mothership website I found the tickets were all sold out, but I had a chance to get in if I put my name on a list 90 minutes before the show and went on standby. Which I did and then waited in the Mitzie’s bar which is attached to the comedy club to hear if my name would be called. I found two other people there waiting, hoping to be called, one of which bought me a memorabilia magnet, how lovely!
“Do you think your going to get in?” she asked me.
“Of course!” I said, no doubt in my mind. She was clearly worried while I didn’t care either way.
Our names were all called and we went through security, had our phones put inside locked bags and bodies scanned for weapons, what a trip just to hear something funny, but thats the state of things. Anyways we all were directed to individual seats and I got a nice one to the left on the raised level. Everyone is required to get two drinks as a part of the show, so I had a ginger beer and lemonade, non alcoholic of course. The price of which I found to be very reasonable once the bill came due after the show.
Mark Normand was up first and I haven't ever seen him or heard of him before, and boy, I was laughing out loud the whole time, he was my favorite. Then there was Ron White, a true old school comedian that I enjoyed. Kill Tony was on and after seeing him live I finally get the appeal. Joe Rogan was last and seeing him live is a trip after seeing him in so many forms on television. $50 to get in, I tipped as well, plus the drinks, $80 something for a life changing event is hardly dire. I will go again one day and bring my friends. I can understand the people who came for the non-headliner shows not having the best time, but so long as you go with an open mind and make it to the main event, it will be a good time.
I went back to the hostel and through the secret sliding bookcase entrance to the club it has. There I found an excellent woman led punk rock band that literally rocked the place, going off stage and dancing with the guests. Her bust bouncing out of her white corset over and over so hard I was sure there would be a wardrobe malfunction.
I went to bed around 11:11 and was woken up repeatedly by two drunk Texans.
“You fucker!” the one entering said to the other who was asleep. “you said you’d come find me in an hour!”
“I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”
“Well get up! lets go!”
“Aweeeee.”
“Fuck that, get up.”
“okay okay.”
This is where I stuck my head out.
“Hey, can you keep it down please?” I asked, then went back to sleep. Luckily they only came and went a few more times, but again disturbed us all in the morning when their alarm went off and they were too hung over to care or notice. I got up and grabbed the guys leg in the bunk above me. “Hey, your alarm.”
“Ohh, didn’t hear it…” he said, turning it off then blacking out again. Only to have it go off in another five minutes, this is when I decided to get up and start my day. Who knows what I’ll get up to this time?