Prolific Immigrant

“We are cold to others only when we are dull in ourselves, and have neither thoughts nor feelings to impart to them.”
-William Hazlitt, from On the Pleasure of Hating

I have just finished the last of my Austin Slow Burn Habanero-Jelly.

Finishing it has made me sad.

“Part of the beauty of Vancouver is all of the greenery”, said Maha.
“I agree! I think…I just LOVE the foilage in Vancouver. It’s so great, isn’t it?” said S.
“What?”
“I love the foilage here. It’s gorgeous.”
“And what colour would that foilage be?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…is it aluminum? Shiny silver, this foilage of which you speak.”
“The foilage. The foilage. The green around us.”
“It’s foliage.”
“Huh?”
“It’s foliage. It’s called foliage not foilage. I’m just bein’ an asshole, really…”
“Oh! Ha ha!! FOLIage. That’s right! FO-LEE-IDGE.”
“You call yourself a writer. You should be ashamed.”
“My word was nicer.”

(I love you half of KAWN!)

…and just kill it with their guitars.

Download:
Guitar Shorty‘s We the People.
Alejandro Escovedo‘s Real Animal.

Download in their entirety.
Trust.

Austin 2000
In 2000, Natasha and I visited Austin and had an absolutely fantastic time, even though Natasha was nearly killed by a taxi.

We were students and on an extremely tight budget which forced us to stay at the Motel 6, off the highway. When our first room’s air conditioning unit broke, the staff indicated that the only room available with a functioning a/c had a queen-sized bed in it, and hesitated before asking if we were interested.

Tash and I had no qualms about sharing a bed; as best friends do, we had shared a bed at different sleep-overs since the age of 15. We said yes, and the facial reaction we received made it appear as though we were the Antichrist and his boyfriend, since, clearly, the woman at the Motel 6 believed that we were “gay” (quotes here necessary indeed). Lucky we didn’t get shot, or accidentally drowned in the Motel 6 pool which sat on the edge of the highway, delineated by the chain-link fence. Klassy.

We couldn’t afford more than two taxi rides into the downtown core and so I paid for one and Tash paid for the second.
We survived on one large jamba juice each, so as to not die of dehydration, and one meal a day so as not to die of starvation.
It was one of the most fun and hilarious trips ever.
And as with my most recent trip, it was also one riddled with the kindest people you’ll meet anywhere in the world.

Austin 2009
This time around, my trip to Austin was a surprise even to myself. Having originally planned on going to California to see both Kitty and Mozer, I changed my plans at the last minute and decided to head out to Austin instead.

The one thing I did know, in terms of location, was that I needed to be somewhere hot and humid and away. For those of you familiar with my nomadic ways, I become extremely agitated and anxious should I stay in one spot for too long. And my “too long” is extremely short compared to that of the normal individual’s. (Possibly worse still is that until I am physically seated on an airplane, I tend to change my ticket several times over both in terms of time and location, an annoying habit even to myself.)

Unexpectedly, this trip was cathartic on all levels – I hadn’t realised how much I needed to have my faith restored in people until I met the kind of people who restored one’s faith. I left Austin feeling completely regenerated and safe, which may seem an odd word, but is the most honest one to use.

Every single person I met there restored my faith a little bit…or a lot.

They are good people, kind people, gentle and generous people, none of whom is chocolate-cover-spoiled in bitterness, which is the variety of people I have run into most recently and from whom I needed to recover. Interestingly, I had been feeling this way behind my own back; discovering this only when I met the opposite in Austin.

People who, as adults, were capable of being openly and honestly vulnerable and kind.

It was a lot to swallow in a short 6 days, but it is amazing how quickly the human heart opens itself up when it’s surrounded by like-minded kindness and grace.

I close with a very short little list of Texanese for your learning pleasure:

The Devil’s Vinegar = Usually a “shot” of liquor which has the distinct flavour of bitter sh*t. (Courtesy of Austin Lisa, who nearly decked Jay.Dub when he offered her a shot of The Devil’s Vinegar.)

Used to could (pronounced: uset’a'kud) = I used to be able to…

Right Quick = Immediately

Fixin’ to = About to…

Git = Get the f*ck out of here right quick or I’ll shoot yer a** with my beebee gun

(Thank you, Austin.)

(Note: Austin wrap-up still to come.)

This trip to Vancouver becomes increasingly interesting with each second. At the same time which Baby Jane moved out to Halifax, Felice moved in the opposite direction to Vancouver.

Felice is my dinner date and since she left Ottawa, sushi has taken a turn for sad and refuses to be enjoyed without her company. Last night we decided to make up for the lost dining time and feasted at Tojo’s over the 6 course omakase Japanese dinner. Although both Felice and I are naturally inclined to indulging in good food, last night was an out-of-body experience which ended with exquisite green tea crème brûlée.

Aside from the hysterical laughter and masochistic gorging, we had the following interesting start to our evening…

I wore a black jump suit.
I have never, ever, worn a black jump suit, but last night, Felice poured me into a black jump suit and a thick belt. She loved it and I was too tired to argue not to mention that I too secretly totally dug it as the only word which came to mind was chic and I usually make fun of people in North America who use this word, unless they are Parisian, but I felt as though were I to articulate just how much I dug it, I would sound exceptionally vain. If she wasn’t around, I would have tried to make out with this black jump suit (made of cotton jersey), but alas, she was here as this is her home and I had to feign normalcy and sanity.

Then. I had been locking the front door from the outside and so Felice decided to instead teach me how to lock her front door from the inside. Because I tend to push allpushies, pull allpullies and shift over allshiftoveries, I naturally locked and closed her front door. Only, she had left the keys inside.

Needless to say, Felice was forced to James Bond her strapless dress covered a** over a railing in order to get back inside. (I know she’s really excited to have me in town. I could tell by the look on her face when she opened the door and I crushed her with a hug.)

On a closing note, I will tell you that the photo in this entry is what I peek at as soon as I sit up in bed while here. Lovely, right? Also, I fall asleep to the sound of the ocean which, apparently, isn’t the sound of the ocean at all but rather the sound of the motorway. Felice nuclear-bombed my imagination when I shared with her how amazing it is to fall asleep to the sound of the ocean, but I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about. I heart all oceans.

More as it happens – we are off to Granville Island for lunch and tonight we are meeting all of my VanCity friends at The Chill Winston for 7.30pm (interestingly enough, about 10 Vancouverites are at the moment in Ottawa…).