In your Obi Wan voice: “The drama is strong with this one…” — R. Williams

The longer I sit and look at the world around me, the more amazed I am at the world’s fundamental magic. Everything around us seethes with energy, and without even thinking we move through and manipulate things with the most minor force of will.

I had more Indian food for dinner with Roy and Renee. I smelled myself this morning just to make sure I’m not starting to smell like Curry. The mint tea scare has been proven a hoax. The soap at the apartment smells oddly like minty green tea, so I have assured myself, it was the soap, and not an absorbed herb that made my hands smell minty, for days…

After dinner I went and saw Roy’s band practice. Pretty cool. Think bad faeries ignoring the king’s edict and wandering into the city’s of man for bad women, hash, smoky bars, and lots of psychedelic music.

Being bad faeries they play dark, dissonant music, a chaotic whirlwynd of wrything (that’s how faeries spell it) angst somehow in time with the other five wrything whirlwynds of angst.

Vocals reminiscent of Frank Black, kind of. I hear the doors, Missippi blues, Heart, the Doors, snatches of punk, folk, and metal, all played with two acoustic guitars, an electric bass, a drum kit, and a hand drummer. Quite impressive. They play March 21 at Underworld at Numbers and March 23 at Sin 13 in Dallas, despite not being a goth band.

“You don’t understand what a cornocopia of rot your cunts are…” — A. Peguero

I went back to the apartment and spoke with an acquaintance, Steve, who informed me Amelie was by the sane director who did Delicatessan and City of Lost Children. Why did no one tell me this before!?!

There, I thought it was some lame-ass French romance meant for chyx and guys hoping to get laid, when in reality, it’s this kick ass, slightly dark and comedic romance by an awesome visual artist meant for chyx and guys hoping to get laid.

I would have seen it 15 times by now.

Meanwhile, back in reality, I’m still way behind though I did get two invoices out, and paid all my bills. That’s good right?

I slept horribly. I would’ve been grouchy, but my girlfriend was in from Austin. I picked him up and we had lunch at this wonderful Indian restaurant. The decor was gorgeous. The staff was attentive without being annoying. The food was great.

Well, actually, the Naan was decent but not as tasty as the place near Roy’s and the Daal was Daal. Not spectacular but wonderful over the yummy Indian rice.

We went to CD stores. I found Stoa’s Portus VII, which is generally hard to find. Might be easier to order. Why would you care? Because it’s a brilliantly beautiful album.

I demanded Alex purchase a copy of This Swelling Soul. I think he likes it. I told him he would.

We had no dinner. Inertia and apathy kept us (Roy, Kasey, Alex, and I) in Roy’s apartment, except for the brief coffee jaunt to an uber-hip indie, mom n’ pop coffee hole in the wall down the street run by eco-concious neo-hippies and libertines. We met up with Sunanda there.

We retired to the apartment, because, really, we have Southern Comfort. Renee showed up later. So did Leah. So did Sam and Amy. It was another one of those kick back and chill with cool people nights. It rocked.

Moreso because some kind soul gifted me with some hummous and sourdough (called ambrosia by the greeks) and a fortuitous bottle of Southern Comfort. And yes. I was comforted.

Thankfully, my energy waned, so I was unable to go a viking. Everyone left. I slowly drifted off to the sound of everyone else just sitting there listening to Dead Can Dance.

When I woke, everyone was gone. It was like a dream. I’m still not sure any of it happened.

“I used to have an outy, but after a procedure, now I have an inny. It looks like a vagina.”

“Vaginas are cool”

“No really. It looks like a vagina.” Brooke is one of those rockin (like Dokken!) people who’ll whip out her lighter where you really expect a pair of devil’s horns to be, and use the flame to illuminate her vaginal belly button. “Look!” It did look like a vagina. I felt dirty looking at it.

But my shame was shortlived. Last night rocked. All the people I hadn’t seen in a while crawled out beneath the gray skies and impending rain. It was like homecoming night for me, only there weren’t any obnoxious brightly colored dresses out of tacky fabric.

Zombie suggests I enable, so I enabled someone new: a young girl, Robyn, reticent at first, but came a round soon enough, and lives close enough to the Woodlands to be an honorary tribe member.

Of course, I made a drunken call to Zombie around 11:00 pm. “You only call those you love when you’re drunk.”

Kean and I shared fond Jester reminisces and bits about Kinsolving before rocking to ‘Supernaught’. And Jeff rocked for playing it, as well as requested Elesde and Juno Reactor. It was like our own private club.

The night started off well, me grinning like a maniac, moseying down the freeway, bouncing to Celluloide. “I was seven and forever…”

Maddy and Joel, Batty and Brett, Brandon and Danielle, Ramiro, DJ Dead, Jason and Karen, James, Carmina and David. We were only missing a few lost souls. And I really hadn’t seen anyone in ages.

Even with minor drama, everything was wonderful. I boasted a huge, obnoxious smile for most of the night. I’m happy. Really happy. I was home. Finally. And these were my people.

Whether my happiness drew from some mania, or something like mania makes no matter. I’ve been happy. What else do you need?

Me. Beautiful blue skies. Peace warrants peaceful coffee and time with your current book. Coffee warrants good conversation, and good conversation warrants pleasurable company. Boy did I score.

Not only did I find a parking spot right next to Kinsolving, Auli’i and I walked to the Spiderhouse for coffee and the dregs of a pack of cloves. Out of cloves we hit the drag for more.

Kinsolving smells the way it did seven years ago, and girls from catalogs walked in and out. I got my feng shui number: 8 white mountain star. I didn’t get to hold the albino King snake.

We absconded to the Lust Murder Box show. Stephanie’s vocals were really good. The music was great. Erik has combined electro sequences with trip-hop laced rhythms and heavy guitars. The show rocked.

Our whirlwind tour of Austin continued with a late dinner at a mexican restaurant, Curra’s. I ate a mushroom burrito, and then we drove to Thad’s. When we got there, Thad and Stacie were fleeing for the club. Inside, Alex and Leah were lounging on his bed. Auli’i and I decided to get more coffee rather than listen to them have sex. Fortunately, we got to hear round two later.

On the way back to the Spiderhouse, we went by Planet K for more cloves. Outside at Spiderhouse, it was cold. I had a breve, sat beneath wood chimes, learned about Daoism and had an absolutely amazing time.

Spiderhouse kicked us out at 2am, so we headed back to Kinsolving. I was to be loaned Neil Gaiman and initiated with Headwig and the Angry Inch (pronounced Headvig). The movie was awesome.

It was over around 5am. I took Auli’i home and headed back to Thad’s. I was so jazzed about the movie and my day that I was scarcely tired.

If, in reading this, Saturday seemed mundane, busy at most, then that is only because I am trying to restrain my enthusiasm: Auli’i rocks. Just as I was lamenting the lack of cool new people to hang with, I am inundated.

Bad ass.

Postscript

Alex: Do you have a tape to test with? All’s I have is gay porn. (Inserts tape. Young man laves a large cock.) Well. It works! (Alex exits stage right with tape in hand.)

Auli’i: That was… interesting.

Last night at Katz’s introduction’s were made with names and then signs, and much chewing was done on astrology concerning who would get along with who. Very interesting to watch.

Roy, suddenly flush with cash, and intent on libating with Renee convinced me to go to Spy. I drank much too much. Hungover today. I haven’t had a hangover like this (headache) in ages. It was prolly a mystery drink the bartender pawned off and me.

Sunanda showed: “Spy is always good to me.” She’s one of the reasons we went to Katz’s, so she could sober up a bit. We split some french fries, and she had a grilled cheese. It looked good, like Nicci’s.

Nick was there (“Next time don’t be a scared little bitch. Just ask.”) with Kendall, seemingly an old friend of the entire Oakridge/Woodlands group. She’s a cancer: “Whenever I meet interesting people, I like to get to know them more.”

Brandon and Ramiro were also there. As was Tiffany. She always says something that makes me smile and shake my head; something moderately lascivious, but ultimately sweet. She’s good people.

Lastly there was this girl who looked so much like Nicci, it fucked with my head. Renee and Roy thought the same. Her hair was in a style formerly worn by Nicci. And she had Nicci’s back, shoulders, and neck. Fucked with my head because I had the immediate sensation that she was absolutely beautiful. She wasn’t. She wasn’t offensive, by any means, but I found it odd how my concept of beauty had morphed to be Nicholette.

I wonder if everyone does that.