South by Southwest 2009, part 1

The day before me and Aaron left for Austin, we met up at Laurene’s house and the three of us spent a night at Catbirds to celebrate St. Patrick’s day with Stewart, John, and Andrea. Angela and Matt stopped by unexpectedly and we all put our chairs around two tables and talked about the Clash, the working class, and proper grooming techniques over beer and cider. To be perfectly honest, Aaron and Laurene and I shouldn’t have been there because we all had to wake up at 7 in the morning; Laurene had work and Aaron and I had to be in Austin before noon to beat the traffic.

Because of our poor decision to spend a late night at a bar before our road trip, the morning was pretty rough. Laurene woke up at 7 and went to take a shower. I woke up at 7:15 to brush my teeth and wash my face and put more pomade in my hair. Aaron woke up at 7:20 to pack up some clothes and by 7:30 we were in the car and on the highway. We stopped by a Jack in the Box, the same Jack in the Box we always go to on our way to Austin, and for the first time ever they fucked up our order. I ordered a Sourdough Jack and they gave me some sort of sandwich with an egg, a slice of ham, and a slice of American cheese in between two pieces of sourdough bread. It’s called the Sourdough Breakfast or something and it is so fucking horrible. Further down we stopped by a Buc-ee’s so Aaron could buy a souvenir t-shirt for the guy at Alternative Press that gave us VIP passes. We accidentally blocked a Dr Pepper representative’s truck in the parking lot and we apologized. Then I showed him my Dr Pepper tattoo and it blew his mind so much that he didn’t even know what to say.

We pulled up into Austin at around 11:00 in the morning. I stopped by my aunt and uncle’s and dropped off some of my luggage. They were headed towards Congress for breakfast and I was headed to the Red 7 so they dropped me off on 6th and I walked the rest of the way. I wrote down the set times for the Red 7 and walked over to the Radio Room to see the set times at the Paste Party. They didn’t have one but the line was roughly a mile long. I call up my friend Pam who got into town from Houston earlier in the week and told her what was up. I went back to the Red 7 and watched LAKE, Wavves, Loney Dear, and then Pam showed up in time to see the Thermals. We walked to the Radio Room and stopped by the Paste Party to see Loney Dear again because she just missed them. We were scouting around for free stuff but all the good stuff was taken. We went back to the Red 7 and watched the Vivian Girls’ set which was fucking awesome. Pam and I split up and I met up with Aaron again. We drove to the east side of town to the CoLab party. We stopped and picked up a pizza along the way. Upon arriving at the CoLab space I traded some slices of pizza for beer and tea and then we saw Papermoons play. Ben Murphy dropped his jingle bells mid-song so I had to pick them up for him. We talked to everyone for a while after the show and then headed to the Red Scoot Inn to see Homopolice’s showcase.

I’m not gonna say what happened to the Homopolice but because of certain circumstances, only one member of the band would be playing the showcase and that member is Chris Ryan.  We heard of the situation beforehand so Aaron and I made it a point to see Homopolice that night.

I call up Chris Ryan for directions and we arrive at the bar a little bit early.  We walk up to the entrance to see a lonely Chris Ryan sitting on a stone bench by himself, depressingly lit by a lonely streetlight.  We get to talking and Chris Ryan tells us of how he thought it’d be a good idea to play but now he just feels stupid and thinks it’s a waste of time.  We decide to walk into the bar and we were immediately hit with 3 pieces of information that could potentially ruin our night: the showcase is badge + wristband only, cost $8, and is 21+.  Aaron and I think that people who buy wristbands and badges for SXSW are stupid because all the good bands will play free shows all week long, we refuse to pay $8 to see our friend play, and I don’t have a fake ID so I can’t get into this bar. Chris Ryan walked in and left us in the dust. We immediately start to joking hassle the cute girls running the door.  Aaron exclaimed “Is this show 8 fucking dollars?” to the girl.  As I was standing by the gate, I realized we had a perfectly clear view of the stage because there was literally NOBODY there and the entrance was pretty close.  I told the girls, “You know what? I’m just gonna stand right here and watch the show. But oh man, there are SO MANY PEOPLE IN MY VIEW!”  We joke with them back and forth for about 15 minutes when some guy, he looked like he was in his late 40s,  from inside runs up to them and says, “I need to put 2 people on my list.”  Aaron and jokingly said, “Hey man, you should put us on your list.”  I chimed in with, “Yeah, we drove all the way from Houston to see this one guy play!”  Then he put one hand on my shoulder and pointed his thumb inside.  “Let these boys in!” he tells the smokin’ hot girl working the entrance, despite the large black underage X’s on the backs of my hands.  Aaron and I immediately burst into laughter because we can’t believe that it actually worked.  I asked the guy if he was from Houston and he said, “No, but my WIFE is! AND MY BROTHER IN LAW!” Aaron and I were convinced that this guy was crazy so we both gave him a high-five and ran into the bar and find Chris Ryan.  It wasn’t hard to do because there was only one other person in the bar and he was the bartender.  Chris Ryan had a big grin on his face when we walked up to him.

Aaron and I sat at the bar and watched the Joe Strummer documentary they were playing.  It was perfectly suitable because we were talking about the Clash the day before and were listening to Coma Girl when we were working the door at the Mink a few days prior.  We watched the documentary for about 45 minutes when we had to go outside to see Chris Ryan’s performance.  I ordered a Roy Rogers before I stepped outside and the bartender made me one for free. SCORE!

The Homopolice are known in Houston for being loud and naked and breaking shit.  This rendition of Homopolice was missing 3 members.  Their substitutes were three Walkmans plugged into three guitar pedals plugged into three small practice amps.  For 15 minutes, Chris Ryan played droned out samples.  He, Aaron, and I had to hold back our laughter because we couldn’t let anyone know that this was a joke.  The best part was after his set, some guy with a giant beard asked him where he was playing next, some guy in a white t-shirt with something written in Sharpie on it asked him about playing a show with his band some time, and some guy in the parking lot told him how proud he was that “ambient music was still being played.”  On the way out of the bar, I kissed the cute girl working the door.  Overall, the show was the best thing to happen that night:

-We got into a showcase without paying and without having wristbands or badges.

-I’m not even 21.

-I got a free drink at the bar.

-We got to watch a movie we always wanted to see.

-I got to kiss a cute girl.

How often does that happen?

“It’s a girl who doesn’t love me anymore.”

The rollergirl tattoo on my forearm is completely healed now. It seems like every new tattoo I get becomes my favorite one but this one is pretty tough to beat. It’s just too well done when I look at it.

Lots of people ask about it, moreso than my other tattoos because this one is out in the open for all to see. I absolutely hate telling stories behind my tattoos because, first of all, I find it impossible to not sound like a douchebag when I tell a complete stranger the “meaning” behind a cartoon drawn on my arm, and second of all, I don’t feel comfortable telling people who don’t know me at all why I got a tattoo.

I also find it hard to be a complete jerk and straight up tell the person, “Uh, what the hell are you talking about? Who says that there’s supposed to be meaning in this tattoo?” so I usually tell a complete lie when somebody asks. I was handing an ice cream cone to a college girl at work today and she asked, “Who is that drawn on your arm?” I ran through the rolodex of lies in my head and out of nowhere said, “It’s a girl who doesn’t love me anymore.” She replied with “Oh that’s so sad!” Haha. I took a break after I rang her up.

I went to the post office across the street from the ice cream store to send a care-package to a girl I liked. It cost $10 but I don’t really care. Have you ever gotten an unexpected package in the mail from your friend before? It’s better than a Christmas or birthday gift because it means that someone out there was thinking about you in their own time and wanted to make your day a little bit better.  You can’t put a $10 sticker on that.  It’s not an obligatory gift like Christmas or a birthday, it’s a pure “I was thinking about you today so I hope this makes you feel better” kind of thing.

When I got back to work I was ruthlessly teased by the two girls I work with. They’re both 10 years older than I am.

I got off work at 1 AM and rode my moped to Rachel’s house so I could sleep on her couch. Rachel’s house is exactly the midpoint between work and my house so I usually sleep at her place to avoid riding through the rough parts of town on my way home. On the way there, it started raining on me. I locked up my bike when I got there and went through the back, through the kitchen. I got a can of Lone Star, the only cold thing to drink, out of the fridge and poured it over a cup of ice. I took a shower and brushed my teeth and laid out my sleeping bag on top of her couch.

Brushing my teeth after Rachel’s New Year’s Eve party

I was brushing my teeth at around 2 or 3 in the morning of the first day of January at Rachel’s house. She had just thrown one of the best parties I’ve been to and I was trying to scrub the taste of Lone Star out of my mouth. A girl was sitting on the toilet next to me taking a piss and another girl was on the floor behind me, leaning into the bathtub and puking her guts out. I looked like a wreck in the mirror with sunken dark eyes and a green hunting cap a little crooked on my head. It was the end of a year and the end of the night and I tried to think about everything that happened to me since last January.

Adrienne finished school in December 2007 at the end of the first semester of her senior year. I’ve known her since she was about 12 but I’ve only known her as the person she is now for a year or two. I got to know her pretty well after spending school lunch breaks with her in damp garages and Whole Foods. At the beginning of 2008, I’d see her every once in a while at shows or parties. She got in a scooter wreck that summer and got really hurt.

I turned in my application to Amy’s Ice Creams some time in March. I got the job on the spot and started my first job where I wasn’t paid in cash and I knew exactly how much I would make twice a month. I thought the job was pretty stressful and I thought about quitting. I spent my 18th birthday mopping the floor and defrosting a freezer. A month later I got a tattoo of a Dr Pepper bottle scooping an ice cream cone. A month after that, a girl I dated in the 8th grade became my coworker.

That summer, I bought a moped and helped Katie Menowsky move from Stafford to the ‘Trose, Houston. She actually moved across the street from Amy’s so she gave me a key and told me I could spend the night after work so I don’t get mugged on my moped or hit by a car. My entire summer life was a backpack filled with 2 sets of clothes and a sleeping bag bungee-tied in a milkcrate on the back of my bike. I spent my tip money on Santeria candles at a Mexican dollar store. Morgan left the city to go to college in Arkansas. Ailleen moved out. Leah went to Austin. I told my boss that I quit and was gonna ride my moped all day, every day, all over the city. I came back a week later to raise some money so I could get a tattoo of a jar of fireflies. My moped broke, was fixed, then I crashed it into a girl on a scooter, and then I took it to a scooter shop where the mechanic was dating the girl I crashed into.

In the fall I was briefly a member of Black Congress. Rachel, a girl I knew in the 5th grade, became my friend again. I found out where she lived and I spent a few nights on her couch. She didn’t mind at all. Well at least that’s what she told me.

For the entire month of December and I had the entire house to myself. I fell off my moped again. Leah came back to visit and I watched her listen to a stolen copy of Bruce Springsteen’s “Nebraska” and manually shift gears in her car. I was banned from House of Pies so I changed my diner of choice to 59 Diner where I fell in love with a waitress with short hair and a bad tattoo.

When I finished brushing my teeth, I went into the living room to lay my sleeping bag on the couch. I rinsed out my toothbrush for one last time in the kitchen sink before I put it back in my backpack and was drying it off with my shirt sleeve when I saw peeing-girl, who was next to me in the bathroom, walk pass the kitchen entrance. I stepped out into the living room, stepped over a boy sleeping on the floor, and put my toothbrush in the front compartment of my backpack. Then I whispered to peeing-girl, “Your ride stopped by when she was out buying cigarettes, but they already left, if that makes you feel any better.”

She whispered back in a sad, drunken voice. “How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“They stopped by from another party to pick you up instead of just ditching you. It means they didn’t forget.”

“Oh,” she said. Then she told me she thought about calling a cab to go home but I told her that the guys I knew at the party are more than willing to drop her off at home because she lives on the way. She told me she’d feel kinda guilty that someone else would have to drive her home but then I reminded her about the time she picked me up from a bowling alley and dropped me off at a friend’s house once so it adds up. Then she told me that I was sweet and then she left.

The best 3 days of my life

Friday: Did lead vocals for Black Congress

Saturday: Went to Austin, hung out with Leah Gilman

Sunday: Saw Ben Nichols, Tim Barry, and Chuck Ragan at the same time, on the same stage, playing each other’s songs

If I died right now, everything would be fine.

535

January 06, 2008, 11:38

This break has been pretty great. Helen came down from Massachusetts to hang out with me and Ryan, then with me and David. I met up with Dano at a warehouse to see one of the greatest shows I’ve ever been to where I sold some merch for B., saw Grant Olney play his first North American show in a long time, chanted “HAIL SATAN” with a biker holding a 10 foot tall burning cross, saw Adrienne for one last time before we both part ways forever, and later saw a stripper.

And one night Layne called me at 1 AM out of the blue and we went out to eat at House of Pies and then we drove to Galveston. We got to Galveston, sat on the sea wall for 10 minutes, then got back in the car and drove home.

Last night I went out against my will to Agora where I ran into Felipe and Derya and Franny and Masha. I haven’t seen those kids in a long time. Later I took photobooth pictures with Andrew Sainz and Arie and Leah Gilman. I’ve decided to get a tattoo of Arie, but I don’t have enough money to buy a new bike, a speaker cabinet, and a tattoo. This is going to be a tuff year.