drunk talk
In all honesty. I’m not really sure what this means. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what will happen for good or bad. And that’s all fine. My only reason I can come up with from the start is that this adventure was calling to me. Every day I went to work it screamed my name. It was my nightmare and the demons that kept me awake. It made sure that through and through it would not be forgotten. That no matter what I acheived in life, it wasn’t it. If I were not sitting here on Martin Luther King and Luck St in San Marcos Texas, I would regret it on my deathbed even if I didn’t know what it was that caused the regret. I would look back and yell at myself “why didn’t you do it?” and know in my heart that this is what the voice would be talking about. I’m here. I’m living it. This is it.
Tonight I met Julie. She’s a 36 year old P.H.D in rehabilitional something or other. She talked about how she wanted to work with the mentally handicapped to get them back into the lifestyle they were used to before being handicapped. She has beautiful brown eyes that bled compassion. She had heart and her goals were wonderuflly ambitious and sincere. She gave it up to persue painting and has never been happier. She is a part of an art collective here in San Marcos and invited me to check out their work.
She was looking around for something and seemed confused. I asked her, “you look lost. Can I help you with something.” She had lost her cigarettes and I told her if she had the know how she could roll one of mine. A couple cents worth of tobacco for a good conversation seemed fair to me.
She mentioned a book, The Daodejing. I was told about this book last year when I first couchsurfed. My host’s friend was discussing literature with me. Now I don’t know a good book from a soft roll of toilet paper, but I wrote down that book out of interest with the intention of one day reading it. I hope Julie comes through with me. I’ll be sure to stop by there in the next few days while exploring.
Tonight I got denied access to 2 clubs. Okay, backtrack. When I left Kenny’s he told me directions to one place. Walk down MLK (Martin Luther King) towards LBJ (Lydon B Johnson) and make a left. Go to the wind, i think it was called. From there I asked the bartender to sugggest a place I could dance at. I walked outside and asked for directions. I was told to look for the popped collars. Nephew’s was playing country music and I didn’t know how to get down to that. I needed something I could dance to alone and at my own pace. I left that place to studio 141 or some silly number that I can’t care to remember. They denied me entrance because I had a backpack. Okay. Next was Dillengers. They shot me down for wearing sandles.
After yesterday getting something thrown at me, I’ve started to think more about how we’re judged based on how we look. I’ve always thought about that because I seem to change how I look pretty often. It’s fun to play with and a good way to learn to not take yourself too serious. Walking around with a handle bar moustache made looking like anything easy. Just learn that it doesn’t matter that much. Life isn’t that serious. Some people think it is though. Oh well.
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