Well, these last few months have been nothing shy of interesting considering only a month ago my best friend and our Scottish/Londoner import were preparing to move into a three bedroom house situated quietly in one of South Austin's greener plots. The move, being completely a physical and financial obsticle before cruising out to California for more debauchery, carries some metaphorical undertones as well.
The summer started early this year as the South by Southwest music and film festival got into full swing in mid-March. There was a huge influx of UK musicians and attendees this year, both of which have been nothing shy of amazing and some I have been lucky enough to meet and call 'friends.' Having five people attempting to live in a one bedroom loft for roughly a week was quite the experience. Suprisingly enough, the two boys from London, Chris and Scott, my best friend Travis, myself and my visitor from Portland managed to keep fairly busy schedules trying to be the best culture vultures we could be. SXSW has always been a memorable time for me since the late 90s when I started volunteering for the festival. At first glance it appears to only be a week of film premieres and musical exhibitions blaring out of every venue Austin has to offer, but once you become absorbed by the sounds, entranced by the lights, congenialized by the people, and attuned to the city, you realize, that you have set off on a mind-blowing, binge-drinking, emotional rollercoaster of fast times, funny people and emblazened memories.
Not only did I have the sublime pleasure of meeting and hanging out with some new friends, but I saw some amazing performances from bands I will not likely see any time soon. On top of it all, the best (at the time) UK import came in the form of girl I started courting who lives and works right here in Austin. Most nights during the overwhelming music festival portion I would find myself standing next to her, staring at her eyes and smile, probably reflecting my own vulnerable emotional state. You see, music has a way of unlocking the deepest part of who we are and bringing that untouched, smothered part of our existance to the surface for a little leg-stretching. I honestly felt bad that I had been starting to neglect my friends in lieu of this girl, this English woman from Norwich, but it couldn't be helped. I was experiencing emotions I hadn't felt in years and more importantly, with music to accompany it all from the likes of The Good, the Bad, and the Queen, Amy Winehouse, Bloc Party, and Badly Drawn Boy. I felt so alive and the air all around me felt extremely electric, like when you feel the first cool bursts of air in Autumn. There was no way I could forget anything about that week which was right on the money for that special time in Austin, TX. I can't wait for next year.
Rainy days followed and Mr. Scott Henderson would embark on a new journey to Lake Tahoe for some snowboarding, leaving Travis and I to sort out our impending affairs at the small shanty we had come to call home for the last six months. Instead of cleaning the apartment, boxing up miscellaneous items, and making the necessary preparations to move, we decided that our time could probably be better spent slumming around in our bath robes raping the only piece of Scott left behind (his computer) for the remaining downloaded episodes of the dramatic juggernaut, Battlestart Galactica. We would continue on our emotional journey through season three accompanied by many smoke breaks as we assesed who we were as people and the world around us. I had found a house on Craigslist one random day that had three bedrooms and seemed within our budgy, plus it was also located in the part of South Austin we needed it to be in considering both Scott and Travis are without a car. The only problem was the landlady, who had informed Travis and I after an impromtu walk-though, that she would be taking the following week to weigh the possible tennant applications she had received. (yes it was a shock to me that we were not a shoe-in as well). The following days were dark. It was cold, getting colder and raining, still. Scotty was snowboarding (lucky bastard), the Virginia Tech massacre had just happened and the house we wanted, that we thought was ours already, had in fact become that proverbial basket we had put all our eggs in. Travis and I masked our depression with whiskey and sleep and if we had any tears to show, we would both start talking about how good Battlestar Galactica was, since we were usually always watching it during that turbulant time. Since we didn't really have a new place to call home yet, Travis and I thought it best to compare and contrast all the similarties between BG and the planet Earth, and way we might be able to fix it all. Finally, after many dark days doing nothing but the routine, we got word from Ann, the owner, and it was good news. She had chosen us and decided her house would be filled with 1 part - good credit/workaholic, 1 part - horrible credit/wonderer, and an immigrant who we told her over and over again wrote for an "online magazine" and was a reputable journalist. We had done it. Now we just needed to come up with $2,600 dollars and move all our shit over to the new place before packing up my teal stationwagon and heading out to California for Coachella, which was roughly four days from that moment in time. No pressure right?
What could possibly happen next you ask?
I'll give you a hint, ...
his name is Joel and he's Australian. (TBC)
