Same Old

"How's Austin?" I asked her.
"The same," she answered, with the unspoken understanding of "as here."

I have recently been fantasizing about running away and starting life in a new city, and her testimony hit home the fact that a new location won't erase problems. Until you work out all your stuff or simply let it go, it will hitchhike along with you.

Depressing, no?
I miss my friends.

Last night I watched the Scattered Pages play at Brasil's, two tables away from where I sat with Lana on one of our first outings in Houston. They were called "Good People" then, and looked and sounded different. They're every bit as charming as they were three years ago, but the city feels different to me: worn like a comfortable pair of jeans, raggedy hems and all. On those days where every familiar place feels like a landmine, I have to keep reminding myself that in a city of four million people, there are places and people yet to be discovered.

And in the meantime... gay boyfriends who will drag my ass off the computer on a Friday night to go to a sketchy club to see some band called The Pasty Skinny White Boys. SCORE!