| | Dallas put me out of sorts last night. Usually when I see downtown in all it's shiny towering splendor, my heart skips a beat. Every time, without fail, for the past 8 years. It's like catching that first glimpse of the face of that person you love and have missed. And the highways are so carefully constructed to keep that view under wraps until you're RIGHT THERE. One bend in the road, and there it is. Aw, Dallas.
Last night that revealing bend did nothing for me. Stupid, dying, unmoving, unsparkable city. I wanted to kick the buildings until they crumbled and something green and new came up through the cracks.
The familiar roads took me to a familiar place, with an unfamiliar name. The wall that Frank used to paint so amazingly was now a display of the "Periodic Table of Dallas." So many of the venues that were listed as "elements" have been shut down. It's only been up since November. I cursed under my breath and kept moving.
I didn't let myself look down Elm or Good Latimer. I did let myself look at the stencil of the razor blade with the words "give up" that was painted on a curb. Apt.
As I waited to get into the venue Joel spoke about the only local band that anyone seems to give a crap about. He seemed upbeat. Joel was a bright spot. He did a good job running the boards for Anathallo, too. No small feat.
From the stage Matt asked why everything was being shut down. "Nobody cares." "No local bands." "Crappy city hall." The usual suspects. He asked what was good about Dallas, and nobody could think of anything. Joel mentioned that the Rangers won their game the night before. Thanks, Joel.
The drive home stung. Everything I saw brought a memory that made me bleed. This is the place where I walked across the street barefoot after I just couldn't wear those heels anymore. Dana's wedding. The ledge where Charla balanced a red heart and grinned so perfectly. The cobbled plaza where we batted around a yellow balloon until the fake canyon wind took it up over the sharp angles of Fountain Place. The sidewalk where I watched Ken and Tiffany dance and just knew that they'd never dance with anyone else. Where Jordan and I realized that we actually were NOT going to be able to watch Ms. Badu. No way.
I cursed again, turned up the stereo, and attempted to think of something other than Tom Leppert and Cindy Jacobs and Angela Hunt and that coffee shop and developers and that guy who had the tent up by Baylor hospital last summer, and all the times i've ached and cried for this city.
It's stupid to fall in love with a vision of how things could be. I am very stupid. Repeatedly.
My lease is up in March. I could go somewhere else in March. Somewhere flippin' drastic. Where I could start over, and nobody would know my name. I could become someone different and not fall in love with the way things could be. I could plug my ears and wear sunglasses even inside and never pray again. Not about places, not about people, not about anything. Just live life numb and normal. Turn off the part of me that sees things that aren't there. Portland, maybe. Not Austin. I've seen Austin already.
I don't want to give up. I need ideas. I need big shoes that can kick buildings.
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| | Posted 6/21/2008 11:05 PM - 106 Views - 8 eProps - 6 comments
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