another chapter

Today I sat in the park and read my roommate passages from Emerson's essay on The Over-Soul. It sounds awfully romantic, but I assure you we felt pretty silly as sunbathers around us perused the pages of Star and US Weekly. I should have paid more attention to that memo on inappropriate reading material.

I picked up mid-essay and obliged to Margaret's request for me to read her something inspiring.

The soul knows only the soul; the web of events is the flowing robe in which she is clothed.
After it's own law and not by arithmetic is the rate of its progress to be computed. The soul's advances are not made by gradation, such as can be represented by motion in a straight line, but rather by ascension of state, such as can be represented by metamorphosis.

To me, this reinforces the importance of change and progression as constants in life. I think that's a critical consideration as we often become complacent in routines and forfeit our dreams for fear of challenge. I identify with this through and through, as I suppose my current standing is at the crossroads.

I recently left my waitressing gig. I deduced it to be somewhat counterproductive considering the expense of the daily drive and the lackluster of it all. A girl's got to stay focused, right?

who orders a flat white?

This past weekend marked my two year anniversary with Austin, Texas. That's sort of an odd accomplishment to me, as my move here was the product of a whim. The fact that I've remained is purely circumstantial. It just happened. I'm as surprised as anyone, but I have no plans to drift elsewhere just yet.

"Adventure is just bad planning." - Roald Amundsen

My anniversary did have me feeling a little reflective. A quick tally revealed that since arriving, I've moved three times, lived with ten different roommates, and held a handful of jobs. I suppose that's on par with my alternate plan of joining the Peace Corps.

Somehow in retrospect each move and shift has felt like a natural progression, which leaves me interested to see how this new chapter writes itself. I'll just have to wait and see.

smokey summer nights

I went to the hot sauce festival for the Honey (Bears)

Approximately 10,000 sweaty Austinites took to Waterloo Park on Sunday for the 18th Annual Austin Chronicle Hot Sauce Festival. Given my new convenient proximity to downtown, I was happy to stumble on over to check out the scene. Personally, I found the tasting lines to be way out of hand, but to be honest I wasn't there for the hot sauce. I was there for the smooth, satisfying, rhythm & blues of Austin's own Black Joe Lewis & The Honey Bears.

"Doing the Funk"

The Honey Bears headlined the musical portion of the festival and KILLED IT. Their straight forward, heavy, blues-funk is so tight that the appeal is universal. I saw a frat boy try to buy a Natalie Merchant tour shirt off the back of a homeless man, straight up. That's just interesting. Surprisingly, the business transaction was denied! Why? Because the homeless dude was too busy gettin' DOWN. And although frat boy was noticeably disappointed, he was totally understanding as he boogied back to his little click.

Their modern-day Motown sound is reminiscent of the greats and suitably they list their influences as James Brown, The Bar-Kays, Sam & Dave, and Bo Diddley. This amateur footage I found from the show doesn't quite do justice for the audio (or visuals), but I was there in the flesh and they brought it.

"I Don't Mind"

I previously caught Black Joe Lewis, et al opening for The Hold Steady as well as Man Man, so allow me to testify that their shit is consistent. Be sure to check them out if you haven't. They'll be playing ACL next month before leaving town to tour with Okkervil River.

Treat yourself and stream a sample of Black Joe Lewis & The Honey Bears' album HERE.

another monday mix

like coffee in your cup

East Coastin' - Part 5

DAYS 10 & 11: Philadelphia, PA via Chinatown, NY

I reluctantly woke early with Sarah to engage in the madness of rush hour on the subway, which was just short of a panic attack given the additional weight and girth I was bearing with my cumbersome pack on my back. I avoided eye contact with fellow commuters, stayed towards the front of the train as much as possible, and thankfully it was all over pretty quickly. I climbed the stairs up to East Broadway fighting the gravitational pull of my massive backpack and entered the stinky streets of Chinatown to find my bus to Philadelphia in a state of mild confusion.

"You're going to get off the subway onto East Broadway. Ask someone which way to the bus. They will know what you're talking about. Then just walk a few blocks and someone will see that you are white and have luggage, and will stop you to sell you a bus ticket."

Sarah promised it would be easy enough, and strangely that's EXACTLY how it went down. PLUS it only cost $10!! That's almost as good as when we were charged $5 for two espresso drinks the previous day on account of our barista's laziness. No complaints here.

Oddly, as my bus exited the city I couldn't stop watching the Statue of Liberty as it shifted across the horizon of my window. I found myself completely intrigued by it and as the commuters around me drifted off to sleep for the duration of the two hour trek to Philly, no doubt in their routine commute, I recalled my uncle bringing me to the Statue when I was no more than seven yrs old and how I tried to count all the steps up to the observation deck of her gigantic torch.

The bus dropped us off in Philly and I quickly caught a cab. I was beyond relieved by the fact that the schlepping of bags was in it's final throw. When I made it back to the DeMedio's I felt a sense of home. In a calming state of solitude I was glad to relax and recount the whirlwind of events thrashing around in my overwhelmed mind. It's a beautiful thing to go home, and I'm very lucky to have acquired various elements of whatever "home" is in multiple locations.

Philadelphia has grown on me tremendously since I lived there. Despite it's understandable reputation as filth-adelphia, there are pockets and neighborhoods that feel so warm and inspirational.

farmers' market at South Street & Passyunk Ave.

fire station mural on South Street

mosaics off South Street

the quaint urban/country feel of old city & queen village is beautiful

the Irish Memorial at Penn's Landing

Consistent with the best moments in life, I found my time out east went all too quickly. I'm sure my mind is still unraveling the course of events and sentimental details which made this trip a rejuvenating and grounding retreat, so let me just say thanks to everyone for the memories and accommodations. Let's do it again in December.

East Coastin' - Part 4

DAY 9: Brooklyn, NY

I'm definitely glad to have had the opportunity to get into the city while I was out east. Having grown up with frequent holiday visits and every imaginable field trip possible into Manhattan, it's easy to lose appreciation for that which is so accessible.

I met Sarah at the Port Authority in NYC and we trucked back to her Brooklyn apartment with a loose agenda for seeing something "artsy and cultural" per my request. When the exhaustive task of schlepping my bags in the midday heat deterred us from our original plans of making it to the Museum of Modern Art before close, we opted to keep it quirky and stay in BK for the night.