The city under my feet

The laptop now allows me to do something that I've dreamed of since the long ago days of reading Transmet in the girls dorm that I was living in at the time (long story).

I can now take to the streets, and write the stories I find there.

Of course, I've yet to use it that way.

I should.

There's something about austin, the way I feel in the pulsing crowds of 6th street, the sounds of buskers and beggars and drunken children staggering through the night, the sights, garish and gritty and hopeful and sad.

There's the relative calm of the porch of my dive bar on Airport Blvd, where people of all walks of life can share a drink, as long as you don't make trouble and don't ask too many questions.

The resteraunts, the homegrown buisness. The hilariously named mayoral candidates. The life that finds a way.

Every building has a history. Every person has a story to tell.

I think it might be fun to find them out.

But maybe everyone feels that way about their home, the life it breathes into them, the desire to seek out it's nooks and crannies.

Maybe not.

It's getting late, and I've written a lot tonight. Time to stop musing about life and start living it.

Peace