And here we sit, waiting in the SLO airport to board a flight to Austin to surprise my sister for her birthday. I’m not really the flying type, it’s not the fear of plummeting to my death as much as it’s the vertigo. The incident of 2002 severely damaged my ability to fly, boat and spin in circles - lord knows how exciting it is to spin in circles too. All those years we took Delaiah to Disneyland consisted of me standing around for hours on end waiting in lines for rides I never road and holding bags. I was able to practice patients and selflessness, looking back most all things in my life has taught me patients and selflessness. I also contract anxiety when flying, it gets pretty bad at times, about 2 hours before I ended up here at the airport my hands were sweating, my chest was tightening, it was feeling like a had done some coke.
The airport here in slo is so shiny and clean, I’m a bit surprised how much money went into this facility. Acid etched stained concrete floors, bar style laptop stations, a quaint sitting area in a tiny garden once you get past security. The carpet high end peal and stick tiles, stainless steel corner bead with random accents of it throughout. They even have a machine to dispense water for your water bottles. Maybe this water bottle station is nothing new to the seasoned traveler, it’s a might exciting to me. As I write this the Dramamine and quarter milligram of Xanax are kicking in, I’m such a light weight. I’d rather not take either one of them, they give me headaches and oddly enough make me dizzy. I was going to go with the 24 hour non-drowsy Dramamine but figured that may be too much like a speedball. Presently I am regretting taking anything, but it’s this or vertigo coupled with the feeling of having a heart attack – the joys of flying. Oh well, not like I haven’t road out a bad trip before.
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So, it’s safe to say that the seats on planes are stupidly cramped. Like to the point where I can almost not type. Arms pulled in tight to my sides, the gentleman on my right willing to pull his arm into his lap, the larger lady to my left trying to do the same. I’m not one who cares to be touched, it’s like how small can you make yourself in these seats. Luckily the Xanax has worn off some, what a horrible feeling. Flying has never been the best experience by far for me.
The silver lining to all this is I get to surprise my sister for her birthday, I’ll take a little discomfort for her, I’ll actually take a lot of discomfort for her. But not this much turbulence, talk about getting dizzy, it’s like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride at Disneyland or at least what I can remember of it. I will seriously consider upgrading to the first-class on the way home. The lady to my left just opened the window, its overcast and gray out, not sure where we are, maybe over New Mexico? I care not to spend the $12 for inflight Wi-Fi, this upcoming trip cross America is going to cost me and I need to save all I can and besides, a bit of arduous living is good for the soul. It feels like I am flying to a foreign country, packed plane, people milling about, kids bouncing off the walls, like one of them busses you see in documentaries about India. I’ll tell you, I already don’t wanna go home, I’m so burnt on the circles I turn there. And now my back is now screaming at me for the position I’m in trying to type so this is over. Hopefully only an hour left.
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After landing I got an Uber, first one ever. An Indian feller named Hilary picked me up in an UberX spot at the Austin airport. An Uber ride is just as exciting as watching paint dry, I thought maybe he would have conversation for me or a mint or crackers, I got nothing; 30 minutes later I was at my sister’s house. Glen, my brother-in-law opened the door and from inside the dark of their house, my sister walked towards the porch where I stood. “Surprise, Happy Birthday!” She had looked like someone hit her upside the head with a pillow. “You drove here? How did you get here?” “I flew” I said. Slowly the confusion lifted and she seemed to realize that I was standing at her front door and gave the biggest hug I think I ever got from my sister as she seemed to have a yelp/howl/scream during the whole process. I’m sure never in her wildest dreams would she had imagined I would ever just show up here.
From rich coffee, to amazing barbeque, from all sitting and sleeping surfaces that of cotton and clouds, to high tech gadgets that I don’t understand, visiting here is quite the vacation. With a niece who’s 15 that is like a ghost and a nephew at 12 who is willing to let me push him around. There’s also a dog, a thin, midsized, Doberman looking thing, they think she’s a Kelpie, skittish and sweet. No one gets up early here, it’s 8:30 and the house is still quiet as a mouse.
The sun is bright in Texas this morning, I can hear the pool cycling outside the window as I watch a movie and write this. Anytime I visit here there’s normally activities set for the whole trip. Nothing crazy, but there’s something to do most every day, my sister is like a travel agent of sorts. I mean seriously, visiting here is like a vacation at a posh hotel with a local tour guide. That being said, this is how their life is, my niece and nephew stuck gold being born to these two. My sister has to be the coolest mom I’ve known, nothing to take away from my own mother but my sister is all about the kids and has always been about the kids. From feeding, to schooling, to activities – these kids are taken care of. It warms my heart; she does from them as Elisa and I have tried to do for Delaiah. My sister and I were one of the lucky ones that came from a broken home, she found her way to excel at school and I excelled at drugs, we were both over achievers. She has always been on her feet and I obviously landed at mine. None the less, I like visiting here, I get to live in what I consider a normal, stable life for a bit. It’s quite dreamy.
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Downtown Austin on a Saturday night looks like a lot of fun, if I was into drinking and loud music. I literally feel so old with that statement – ‘Damn kids with their whisky and rock and roll!’. Sadly though, the age range was about 20 to 40 from what I could see, so maybe I’m not old and it’s more along the lines that that life is no longer my thing. Although it did look fun, walking the streets drunk and listening to music, flirting with woman - trying not to get arrested or catch a venereal disease.
We ate a place called High Roller, it was good, that guy with the bleached hair and TV show, Guy Fiero, he ate there once and made their meatloaf samich popular from what the waitress said. I had it, not sure why he got so excited about it, it was meh. While we ate I was talking with my brother-in-law about loft/condo prices in the area, he was saying $550 or so and I was like $550!? I could totally do $550! Then he said $550K to buy and I laughed, what made me think $550 a month rent? Part of me would love to move to the city and have places to go and things to do more often, but I think I would be just as lonely there as I am anywhere. I think the loneliness out on the road is cleaner than in the city. There’s nothing reminding you of social anxiety or being self-conscious. Stupid ego.
I keep daydreaming of sunsets, of black tops with yellow lines, of emptiness. It’s so quiet in small corners of this land. Like when I drive through the desert and stare out into its seamlessly never-ending landscape. Sometime think of all the spots on the desert floor that have never been walked on or all trees in the mountains that have stood for hundreds of years, the quiet of it all, the silence. I wonder if I will ever be as quiet in my soul, if my head will ever truly stop running, screaming, talking to me. If I will ever really surrender and be free of me, of my self-obsession and live in the moment. I think I forget me when I’m out there, in the middle of nowhere and every step is one I’ve never taken, every step is onto land somewhere new and I get to study it, be lost in it. There’s a freedom there, a simplicity, a loneliness greater than mine. I get to feeling small again, I get put in my place.
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I think there’s only so much excitement on a trip to visit family. I think I start to feel like a fifth wheel even though it’s family. Obviously it has nothing to do with them, they are kind and generous as ever, I rarely pay for anything while I’m here and believe you me it’s not due to lack of trying. I have my own suit upstairs, a bedroom with bath practically attached. Good coffee, gourmet meals (they’re big into cooking), Girl Scout cookies galore – all that’s missing is the turndown service. Really, it’s like staying at the 4 Seasons, “What would you like to do today” I’m asked, “We have plenty of activities if you would like suggestions”.
Last night we walked up the street with a bag of snacks and a cooler of beverages to the neighbor’s house to watch Super Bowl. As we are doing this, I see two other families doing the same thing, going to other neighbors houses - it was creepy. All the lawns here are trimmed, houses are finished with brick or limestone and all of them are Texas sized. No cars park on the streets, people wave at one another, Viper Lacrosse yard signs dot the front yards with the players last name printed on them. I mean like I really fell into a snapshot of time forgotten, like I am in the American dream. As unorthodox as it seems for 2020, it’s truly satisfying and sweet.
My cynicism wants to play devil’s advocate and point out how sick and twisted people can be behind closed doors but isn’t that everywhere. I mean just cause a place like this exists doesn’t mean it needs to faulted cause of its looks and the way people on this block treat one another. I think cutting this down with talk of disfunction and discontent in these Martha Stewartesk homes is only jealousy coming out. Like who wouldn’t want to be well off, living in a nice clean home, with neighborhood activities and a good school system, who wouldn’t want that for their kids? It wasn’t this way for myself growing up, most people I know it wasn’t like this, this is rare from my experience. Don’t get me wrong my mama kept a clean house and provided kindly but truth is her alcoholism took over behind closed doors. The neighborhood wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t great. The schooling was ok? I went to school with kids from the projects and coming from an addicted family setting, I was using by 12. But that was a choice, my sister chose the opposite direction and did quite well for herself. I like it here; I like the bubble. I wasn’t bred to live here but it’s nice to visit, I’m glad my sister found her way to a life like this, it’s so opposite of what we had.
While I’ve been here I’ve been looking at apartment prices in NY, tiny rooms, with tiny stoves and tiny closest, with old paint and crappy carpet. I think if I get to take this trip maybe I’ll stay in NY for a while, I dream of the city as much as the road. It’s like these feelings take over and I have this need for streets and lights and smells and sounds and chaos and bustle and richness. I need a struggle, I need… I need, what a sad concept, to need. So displacing from the present moment, so far from where I strive to be. Strive to be, maybe that adds to the difficulty of being here, to strive creates aggression, removes me from now, yearning, needing. Instead of needing how about doing, how about just doing it instead of needing it. How about we don’t create desire and lust and aggression and walk forward in the direction that pulls you. How about we walk through fear, how about we worry not of an outcome and live in the now.
I get so close to packing up at times, so close to driving away, if it wasn’t for my obligations I just might. I owe a client my loyalty so I will finish his job, aside from that I’ve no other other obligations. I’ve nothing tying me too anything except fear tying me to sadness. I think of all these people before me that believed so purely, that survived and even flourished in their plights to be true to their hearts calling. Why can I not be like them, I’ve nothing but air and opportunity between me and my next step in life.
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And there you have it, the end of my trip. Yesterday while my niece went to school and my brother-in-law stayed home with my nephew, who was sick, my sister and I went on a little excursion. We drove out to Jacob’s Well and Blue Hole Regional Park. Maybe had the day not been so overcast gray my spirits woulda been higher. There was a lot of quiet time in the drive, an hour both ways, but it was like old times on trip’s to places we’d go with our mother. Back before that when we actually had both parents together, when we were young young, we would be bickering till our father raised his voice, then the whole car would fall silent, eventually our mother would try to sooth things over. It was hilariously dysfunctional... My sister has always been big on quiet time and reading when we’d go places, she would walk the slowest but favored my mother’s personality much more than I did. Our mother can be fairly boisterous at times. I actually have a friend that says my mother is her spirit animal, very alive and wild.
After the swimming holes we walked through the little artsy town square of Wimberley, got some candy for the kids and headed back. My sister is now the fast walker as I seem to drag my feet and dart my eyes about like a hungry bird. I have missed so much by moving too fast through life, whether it be on a walk, during a conversation or in a relationship, most every experience was sped up to a point of blurry ambition to get to the next event. Dawdling is now my new normal and I am at a great peace with it, I see the world through a different context, a different set of eyes. I guess you could say I am getting to see the world through my heart and not so much through experiences that my mind puts together, like puzzle pieces of past, present and future formulating a now that is not even a perception but a picture of now.
It has been really nice to be here, as much for getting time with my family but more so for my sister. Texas is a long way from home, a long way from me and my mother. She left home at 18 to go too collage and has been without close family contact ever since, only to live back in LA for a year. I take for granted the fact that our mother lives 15 miles from me, our aunt 30 miles and our father 200. I’ll call her and say, ‘I spent time with mom today, you owe me’ and we laugh, a lot. Old people can be so cantankerous. But I’m sure she would be more then tickled pink for the chance to have us all living here, in the great state of Texas where the weather will make you want to stay drunk to survive it... I have 4 hours of plane riding in front of me, I do not care for the ride, but I love the destinations.
Namaste 🙏🏻
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