Piece of Peace of Pisces

Like a ghost. Gliding around in space with all the pleasures of sense, but none of the hang-ups, the stubbing of toes, or the hitting of head on freezer door. Friday after work - and this is a fitting follow-up to my last post - until the wee hours, was in a state of general serenity. Coked up on serenity, one might say, if that were possible. No explanation really, only the tale:

After hitting the ATM (allowance doled out to myself in sparing and controlled spurts), met Tania, and we went to the Texas State History Museum. Hot evening, but in the shade, few worries. The purpose at this point was free Rudy's BBQ first, and live music second. The little BBQ dogs did not disappoint, and I had seconds, plus some of that Sweet Leaf iced tea - original and peach. Tania, not feeling the meat so much, wanted a supplement, so we wandered over to the Dog and Duck Pub - where I had not been since visiting Austin last February - for some great beer (an experience I don't have as much these days, due to budget restrictions, sticking to PBR and High Life, the occasional Tecate) and falafel plate for her. Spicy too. Too spicy, in fact. But with the beer, the background music, some stimulating conversation, and the cushioned seats at a booth in the center of the room, the serenity seeped in further.

And then back to the museum, no food or iced tea left, and still not feeling the music. No prob; primary goal (to remind you, that was the BBQ) had been achieved. With at least an hour of sunlight left, Tania had an idea. Hit the road. Scooter ride was breezy, smooth, well-paced, and quite in alliance with the atmosphere - wind and air. She took me to Mozart's Cafe, on the lake. One of the most charming places on the lake, and anywhere, really. Sit outside, as sun goes down, gazing at yellow-purple reflections dancing in the ripples of water in front of dense green hills - for a half an hour, I was only eyes, nose, and ears. No body, and no mouth, because why talk at times like these? Other people talk - about school, about food and drink, about art and culture - but it seems to exist in another dimension, a TV I can turn on and off with my consciousness. Bugs flying around become part of the landscape; with the right depth of focus, the bugs in the foreground mingle with the birds flying over the hills in the background, and I can't tell the difference. At any rate, I can't feel them... they don't bite, and thus become part of the painting. And that's that. Bliss.

Must move on, and I hate to say it, but I must get groceries. Get dropped off at the supermarket, and you would think this experience would end the serenity. At times, sure, but there's a certain peaceful awareness in counting tomatoes and choosing Honey Bunches of Oats over H.E.B.'s wholesale muesli concoctions. The walk home, with a full and heavy backpack (including a Steel Reserve twelve-er) and two other bags, all 20 minutes of it, is not serene, per se - I am sweating like a New York Knicks center in the '93 playoffs - but it is part of the night, and somehow, like the ice bag that takes the swelling down, is comforting. In a mind-numbing way. At home, putting groceries away, become embroiled with Tania and Anjela in conversations about lingerie; and the fact that the female sex can multi-task better than their counterparts. But years of interactions with various females leave me at least semi-prepared. Make a turkey-swiss-and-mayo-on-wheat, pop a couple Reserves (at 8.1% ABV, they are fortifying), and sit back. Still... still at peace.

No one else wants to go out, but there's a free punk show at Stubb's that I want to see, so I do. Last #5 leaves my house at 11:30, into the club to see Me Against Everybody - pretty good hardcore, like a cross between Murphy's Law and Black Flag. But getting tired, the serenity seems to be waning. To the street. Up and down 6th street, I transform from a ghost to a fish. Swimming around in a sea of attractive, carefully presented bodies, figurehead cops on bikes, and stumbling frames reaching out for a direction... but in a way, they all become one - part of the sky in my mind that has turned from dreamy ambivalent clouds to bright constellations and raucous shooting stars. Still, it surrounds. Pisces, a fish in the sky. In this state, I decide it best to continue the show.

On a $5 budget, nourishment is difficult. Slices are all $3 or 4$, sausages and dogs up there too. They can charge whatever they want on this street. But finally, my research pays off, spotting a $2 sausage wrap on Red River and 7th. Chow down, lubricated with BBQ sauce, this is my seventh meal (albeit small) of the day. Into the club, and say bartender, do you have anything in the $2 range? A High Life would be great, and here's a dollar for your trouble. Downstairs, the Krum Bums are playing; a great band, by the way, sort of reminds me of the Virus. With the five members on stage seeming to be approaching an ecstatic choir like anthemia, the crowd dancing and singing along, and I - pleasantly full, ears and eyes absorbed, living the High Life - feel still, still, still serene. A different end of the spectrum, to be sure, but the peaceful mind makes no judgments.

Back down 6th, in time to catch the night owl bus, and home. And just like that, it ends. This is how many words it takes to describe an essentially singular feeling, and now I ask, what's the point? Why do I bother? Well... although it can't be recaptured, one must try. And I can't help but to try to express the contents of an existence that, in ceaselessly trying, will not end. Ever.