I’m thinking this should be a collection of essays, not a weekly blog, so I’m making note of that here to keep my ideas in one place.
M
Exhaustin’
Week 13
I wrote a 3,104-word piece about all my wasted effort this week, and I have no desire to share it…not only because it needs editing and shaping, but because I am just about done with all of this. So there’s some more wasted effort.
Week 12: Saint Patrick’s Week
Cheating a bit here on Week 12 and letting it spill over into Sunday of Week 13. It has to do with me being out of town last Sunday and going out of town tomorrow, effectively making this week a Monday through Sunday affair. And really, the choice is arbitrary, determined by the weekly layout of my planner that tells me the number of the week we are on. Plus, it was St. Patrick’s Day, which ended up stretching into St. Patrick’s Week…
I’ve been beating myself up for consuming more than I create these past few weeks, but South-by will do that to a person. It’s a lot to take in. I had some deeper themes I wanted to tease out–mainly, one about SXSW being March Madness for customer service: a lot of hotshots come on strong, but only true champions make it to the by end. I had some really terrible customer service today at a touristy spot, so it looks like little league is starting patio season already.
Alright, so I got back early enough on Monday to hit up Neighbourhood Coffee on 6ht Street (closed for St. Patrick’s Day overflow from Dead Rabbit next door, though Apple Maps failed to mention that) and a quick audible in favor of Texas French Bread’s courtyard and cereal milk latte. Next it was on to Little Deli for the Reuben, which has become something of a St. Patrick’s Day tradition.
I did track down some Guinness Zero at HEB, along with a fine selection of Kerrygold cheeses. I ended up at the Alamo Mystery Machine, a new feature that mimics the Mystery Movie Monday at Cinemark. You pay a discounted price for a ticket to an as-yet-unreleased movie (probably coming out on Friday and perhaps not getting the buzz the studio wants). I used to go to this all the time at Great Hills, and the time I missed Owen Wilson in Paint was one of my biggest regrets. This week, it was Eephus, named for a type of curveball that moves so slowly you’re not sure anything is happening, which was the perfect metaphor for an indie about a beer-league field in 1990s Massachusetts. It was sweet, dedicated to a friend of the game, and I’m glad I went, although I won’t be ordering the pickle popcorn again.
I took off work Tuesday to recover from SXSW and ended up on an extremely long urban hike. I followed a suggested route, which I hated, and went rogue on the way back, wandering around Bull Creek but ducking out before my phone died so I still knew where I was…yet could not use my bus pass. I tried to hit up Wally’s Burgers, which I’ve wanted to try (plus I started really craving a burger around Mile Eleven) but it was closed due to power outage…the one time I have ever tried to go. I came home, found some hamburger in my freezer, baked a Guinness cake, and capitulated into an order of McDonald’s fries later that night.
The Equinox happened and we moved into the new astrological year with Aries Season. I got some huge news on Thursday that I’m still processing, then met some friends for coffee at Flight Path to discuss White Lotus and Gwen Stefani. I went back out of town on Friday for the traditional Spring Spa Day.
Saturday was the Mozart’s Lake Effect Glow 10k for the Sunrise Series. Since this was only the second time I have run all year, I allowed myself to stop and walk at 5k, so I got to stroll through Tarrytown at a leisurely pace and gawp at the houses. Of course it was not worth waiting in line for coffee, so I drove home in a weirdly misguided direction and stayed in my hood for the rest of the day. However, I saw on Instagram that Mozart’s was offering a Galway Girl Latte as a March special, and with the Mundy gig tonight, it seemed appropriate to head back. And since I was going to be there anyway, and Lake Austin Calm has opened for the season…
I went paddleboarding for the first time this year. I was disappointed from the jump (not the latte, though; she was delicious) and though it wasn’t my worst paddleboard session it definitely wasn’t the best. More of a filler session than anything. So when I deboarded and got the fuck out of Oyster Landing, I swung by Poke Poke on Hancock, where I’ve been meaning to go for a year, and got reacquainted with a less touristy part of Austin.
Really, no one goes to Mozart’s on the weekend except tourists, and I have to laugh at myself…and laugh again every time I read the name of this restaurant. I know how to count to fifteen in Spanish, I do, but it’s just so hilarious to me that I read it in English every time.
Sunday night was Mundy night at Kelly’s Irish pub, which was full of actual Irish people. Alejandro Escovedo might have been in attendance as well? I’m really not sure at this point. But lightning flickered throughout the set, and as soon as the music stopped, the skies opened up with rain and hail.
Week Eleven (The Ides of March
SXSW is finally over!
I had a peaceful walk all the way down Congress this morning. If you wear devil horns on your motorcycle helmet and revved your engine at me, you deserve getting flipped off because your “look at me, look at me!” needy noisiness ruined my [can’t think of the word for state of peaceful walking but I know it’s not revelry].
The example above is why I don’t want to write right now; that, and this nagging feeling of [word similar to exclusion that does not exactly imply shame or loneliness]. I feel like I’ve earned a rest here, and I’m going to have to face some financial realities next week, but I just really want to work through whatever black may be here beyond just normal exhaustion.
Oh, here’s one: I gave some advice this week, to a student who asked for it. I told her to follow her passion, because you never know how or when the world will meet you halfway. So there’s my advice to myself, and here’s a photo of Austin looking stunning.
Week 10
On Sunday, I did go to Surf by Surf East, which I highly recommend for anyone with any appreciation of surf rock…it was a lot of fun, and a nice antidote for what was to come. They had two cats on property, Peppercorn and Ranch, and one of the best burgers I’ve ever had–nothing fancy, I was just really craving a burger. I also finally made it back to AFS for Dig XX (we’re pronouncing it dig-double-ex, according to Dave Grohl in the introduction). I didn’t know anything about the Brian Jonestown Massacre, and I fully believed Aton would be dead by the end of it, but he is alive and mostly well, and the frenemies reunited two years ago at Austin’s Levitation festival before (spoiler) a later BJM set resulted in fisticuffs, again.
I was there for the Courtney Taylor-Taylor. I also still truly love “Bohemian Like You” and internally sang the words “but if you dig on vegan food…” to myself at least once a week while working in a plant-based restaurant.
Then, first thing Monday morning, South by kicked off. Not for everybody, because it was EDU and I was volunteering, so I got through 18 hours of that, enough to earn a free EDU badge. I ambushed the Library Guy, caught the Space Gal’s talk, heard a panel about banned books featuring David Levithan, took a walking tour of Dirty Sixth that made me feel very very old, missed out on Paul Rudd playing with puppets, and reacquainted myself with downtown. I’m sure I did more, but it’s all running together.
I also got my shimmers done by a friend. I love the way these look, but they are not built for longevity.
Thursday was Crossover Day, with EDU and Interactive mingling. On Friday, things kicked off in earnest, and I got my bearings and worked really hard at not paying for meals. I have succeeded up until this point, but it does add an extra layer of irritation. I “suicided” a conversation with Adriene Mishler at the She Media house–-totally worth it. I caught the Yellowjackets panel and was handed a branded bag of wooden cutlery at the Paramount Lodge (Let’s eat!) but missed a screening of The Librarians at Alamo.
This morning, I stepped out of line for free shoes at the registrants’ lounge when I heard a heated argument about the queue (basic waiting-in/on-line skills seem to atrophy as we get older) but have had great luck with the bartenders when I ask for nonalcoholic options. The impossible meat breakfast was gone in, I’m not kidding, 12 minutes, but I snagged a breakfast sandwich. I could’ve also taken a breakfast taco, but maybe we all learn not to take more than we need? I got a blowout and a friendship bracelet and a commemorative table tent from the Whataburger Museum of Art, indeed a prized possession (I only took one).
I’m not going to get into specifics, but my time off requests were not honored, so I was balancing work this week. Next week, I do have a few days off, but not all that I requested. So I’m loosely job hunting as well, but I will not participate in any of the gross shmoozing I have had to listed to over the past two days (EDU is different; teachers are built different, and by the way, the conference is leaving a ton of sponsorship money on the table by not having giveaway snacks in every breakout room–teachers are pros at the eat-and-run; throw them some Goldfish or something).
I wrote the bulk of this waiting for an Encore presentation of the session I left yesterday, when I saw Adriene was speaking at the same time. I chilled out with power outlets and sparkling water and ready access to a restroom, plus air conditioning (this was before the cold front hit), then dropped by a few more free-for-attendees events. One was a networking opportunity that honestly did not pan out the way I wanted but did inspire this collection of wallflowers.
Week Nein
Inadvertently started and ended this week with a walk through Allandale and Crestview. Both walks were supposed to be 10ks, but I grabbed the wrong map today and only did a 5K (but I made a friend who walked with me so that counts double?)…anyway, I only just realized that.
I also shared this White Lotus meme on Instagram and no one laughed…they did the same thing when I posted my latest published articles. The silence is deafening.
I think I’m going to rely mostly on photos here because I’m lazy and exhausted and no one reads what I write anyway. I’m letting the photos I took drive the story, I guess, instead of looking for more literary themes that will probably get edited out anyway.
I spent some time on campus for the Texas Science Festival, catching environmental dance/performance art aqueous on Waller Creek. This is now the second time I’ve watched a one-woman show in which she embodies the spirit of the water (Olwen Fouéré in Riverrun was the other, and it still haunts me).
I did take a trip to some of the suburbs, which I try not to include in these posts, but I do feel like this is relevant:
I spent some time at the Bullock in a crazy story that I’ll have to recount elsewhere, because although it is quintessentially Austin, it also ties into the fact that no one reads my stuff, and that’s a bigger issue I’m still working through that may, ultimately, supersede any relationship I have with Austin.
I will also add that the truly screwed-up text editor on WordPress is symptomatic of my other struggles with writing and maybe also an indicator that I am on the wrong platform(s).
But this morning I got trained to walk dogs at Austin Pets Alive, which brings me a lot of fulfillment, if nothing else is going right. Or maybe I’m just tired from all the walking.
But since no one reads my stuff or appreciates my memes, here’s the one I’ve wanted to share since Thursday, the one that has lived rent-free in my head since 2021.
Week Eight
It’s cold. It’s been inconsiderately cold for four days. That’s ok, though, because it’s been a really good week for TV (White Lotus and Yellowjackets!) with more on the way. I was also out of town for two days and made the airport run, but oddly I accomplished a lot of walking around Austin this week. I’m aiming for 12,500 steps a day, slowly ramping up because the weather has been so awful, but on Sunday, before I left town, I went for a five-mile exploration walk that culminated in a coffee experience that was just meh, so I’m not writing about it here.
This week Michael Urie and Becki Newton launched their podcast Still Ugly, which deserves its own blog post later, so that gave me the inspo to get out and stay out for a long walk on Thursday. I did a funny twist on my Chronicle Day, dropping into Russell’s Bakery to buy a cup of Genuine Joe’s and pick up an impulse-buy bag of Barrett’s beans…which inadvertently coordinated with The Chronicle cover this week. That’s three local coffee shops in one, if we’re counting, which more than makes up for the meh one.
I also cut through Northcross and watched the skaters, since I’m on a bit of a hockey kick, what with the 4 Nations and Icebreaker and Shoresy promos. Also, I think a house full of Stars players resides on my block, just across the street from the suspected Verde soccer house. More updates as this develops.
Saturday’s big event was the screening of Shaking It Up at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center. It was cold and miserable, but I had a great visit to Neighbor coffee truck first (I got to pet a dog!), and I did climb the tower and also went for a walk along the research trail. I got slightly lost, but a chivalrous young man on the swings offered to let me borrow his compass (he was four and adorable). The detour turned out to be a blessing, as I encountered a fairy ring of trees, the Hall of Texas Heroes: Descendants of Famous Oaks. It was exquisite and deserves its own visit/post when I am not cold and in a hurry. Truly made my day.
Shaking It Up is about Liz Carpenter, co-directed and presented today by her daughter Christy. The film premiered at SXSW last year and has been making the festival rounds (PS: the SXSW gear-up this year is already daunting); it will screen on all eleven PBS stations in Texas this March. Liz Carpenter was born on the Robertson plantation in Salado and was on Air Force One as Lady Bird’s chief of staff when LBJ was sworn in as president. Her daughter has accomplished a lot as well, including sitting on boards for PBS and UT Press.
Finally, I made myself go out for National Margarita Day, if only so I could finally go inside High 5, site of the Mexican restaurant that inspired “Margaritaville.” I caught the end of The Texas Tide’s set and had a non-alcoholic concoction to help me hang on.
Those frown lines are new and really starting to bother me…time to do something about that.
And by something, I mean find a reason to smile more.
Week Seven
This feels pathetic, but my brain is fried.
I arrived back in Austin on Monday, just in time to catch rush hour traffic, and rather than deal with the Y at Bee Cave and MoPac, I came up 360 and got the Pennybacker view for my inaugural trip into Austin with the new-to-me vehicle. It took me two days to decompress, but on I did scope out the new Genuine Joe’s location and on Thursday I visited my local coffeeshop, baker, and apothecary.
My mom and I actually returned to the same shopping center that night for Thai food, but this time in a car, which made parking a nightmare. The main event of our evening was beyond the Bombshell: Farrah Fawcett at the Umlauf. She studied with Charles Umlauf at UT, and this exhibit includes memorabilia, paintings, and sculptures. We weren’t allowed to take photos, and I’ll need to go back…the exhibit runs until June.
Finally, on Saturday, I got back into the actual yoga studio for an in-person class. It was packed, I need a new public yoga mat, and one guy fell asleep, but I’m still glad I went.
Public Transport Adventure
I flew to California on Groundhog Day to pick up a car; ergo, I am no longer car-free in Austin. What I want to write about here, even though this is supposed to be an Austin-centric category, is the public transport component of that day. And I went all out on public transport, since it was my last day without a car. I would make Bill Murray Groundhog Day jokes if I could think of any, but this was more Planes, Trains and Automobiles…and every other mode of transport.
Took a Lyft to Austin airport and caught my WFH version the Nerd Bird: a direct Alaska Airlines flight to San Francisco. The boarding agent, packing lots of Prince flair, gave each boarding group an epithet corresponding to our letter: C as in Cordial, D as in Debonair, E as in Effervescent. I was group F, which I desperately wanted to be Fabulous, but he broke the parallel parts-of-speech pattern and went with Familiarity. Still, there was something to be found there.
I finally finished Megan Kimble’s City Limits on the plane. It’s a sprawling examination of the highway system in Texas, encompassing too many characters to follow effectively, but while reading on the plane I locked into the epilogue, which talks about the author moving into the (former airport) Mueller development through housing assistance because her journalism salary was so low. She and I have a lot in common, a mutual friend who introduced me to her book and I think her sister teaches at my alma mater, so it was easy to see some parallels. I also read an eye-opening piece on arborglyphs in New Mexico magazine. Only just before landing did I learn I could’ve watched The Wild Robot on the flight; alas, I had no headphones.
Landed at SFO and bolted off the plane because I’d only packed my backpack. I was dressed like a lunatic, with all my bulky clothes on my person, plus that stupid free hat that I picked up at the SXSW volunteer call. I did not know flat-billed ballcaps were structured that way; I had planned to bend the brim the first chance I got. So for this entire adventure, imagine me looking like the worst kind of hipster on the planet, wearing a variety of clothing and none of it appropriate for the weather.
The airport tram runs to a Bay Area Rapid Transport (BART) station, where I purchased a Clipper card from a kiosk. I was headed to the Embarcadero on the advice of my sister, partially because I had been there before and knew the lay of the land. Kimble writes about the Embarcadero in City Limits, as an example of what a city can accomplish when citizens unite against a proposed highway which, in San Francisco’s case, would have run along that eastern waterfront.
Instead, they have streetcars running past the ferry building, and the pull was too great, so I finished my empanada and missed my ferry. A friend had texted I should go see the Jimmy Hendrix mural on his former residence in the Haight, but I wandered over to the cable car stop and met with one of the city’s Welcome Ambassadors. I wrote him a positive review, which was responded to later by another Mandy, and rode up to the Mission district, then changed cars, changed again when I got on the wrong one and got in trouble for trying to jump off a moving cable car, and ended up in Ghiradelli Square…which is funny because the chocolates are square. I did the touristy thing, then caught the vintage Kansas City streetcar, which doubles as a guided tour, back to the ferry building…where I missed another ferry by eight minutes.
At this point, I was cold and tired and bored, plus my phone needed charging and my backpack was getting heavy. To recount: a Lyft, a plane, a tram, a subway, a cable car, a streetcar, plus a lot of mileage on foot, carrying my belongings on my back. And now waiting for the ferry, which was operating on its weekend schedule, I realized too late. I was not alone, and a woman commiserated with me even as I helped another find her correct gate.
Finally aboard the ferry, I determined that my Clipper card would indeed work on the Sonoma–Marin Area Rail Transit (SMART) train. Halfway across the bay, the rain that had been toying with me all day finally let loose, and I walked the half mile to the SMART station, along a pedestrian/bike path constructed above a busy road, in a torrential downpour. Larkspur Landing looked lovely and cozy, with its little cinema next to the train station, as I huddled under the awning until the doors opened…thankfully, I had caught the weekend’s penultimate train to Petaluma.
I dried out on the train, about an hour’s ride up the 101, and disembarked in downtown Petaluma. I was still a forty-minute walk from my destination, across the 101, so I turned instead toward downtown and picked out my dinner from Petaluma Market. The friend I was supposed to be meeting had pulled over in the rain and stopped for the night, so I called a Lyft to drive me to my hotel, where I ate my salad in the bathtub.
The next day, after a hike in a sacred spot for me, also in the rain, my friend picked me up in the car that was to become mine, at least for a while. We went for a hike in Muir Woods National Monument and, the next morning, returned to SFO to drop her off. I drove away from the airport in a vehicle of my own for the first time in over two years.
So, to recap, on my last day of public transport dependency, I navigated Austin to the Bay Area via Lyft, plane, tram, subway, cable car, streetcar, ferry, train, another Lyft, my own two feet, and finally a personal vehicle. I then roadtripped back to Austin, but that’s another story. Here are some other miscellaneous modes of transport that I admired along my Bay Area route.
Week Five
Happy Saint Brigid’s Day to all who celebrate! For me, this is the true beginning of the year. January is indeed a trial month. For the last week of that trial, I had SXSW volunteer call, a few new (to me) coffee shops, and an Overheard with Evan Smith taping.
On my way to the volunteer call, I wandered around the city, looking for our angles, and finally found one that worked for both of us. The objective was to find a way to attend SXSWEdu for free, which went smoothly. I even got a vintage 2020 edition tote bag they found in a warehouse somewhere because that festival did not happen. And I finally got to try the Rosen’s Bagels in Republic Square.
The next day, I visited the new bridge connecting Shoal Creek to The Grove (after stopping at Stinson’s for the first time ever to try a buttered coffee).
The Grove is creepy, half-finished and more populated by construction workers and College Hunks moving vans than residents, but there are dogs. Lots of them. This one was off-leash when I went off-path, and we both froze to stare at each other. “Are you a spirit guide?” I finally asked. Her name was Lily.
Reading through The Chronicle this week, I was struck by District 9 Council Member Zo Qadri’s discussion of “trail-oriented development” to address his priority this term: mobility issues. The downtown councilman “would love to see more small businesses and housing along some of our trails.” I realized after reading the city council story that my trek through The Grove, for which I parked along Shoal Creek Boulevard and walked across a bridge spanning the actual Shoal Creek, had occurred right at the nexus of Districts 7, 9, and 10. The only business that suited my needs during that urban hike–although there is a liquor store open in The Grove because priorities–was the convenience store selling fancy snacks and boasting a taco bar that serves up a chicken tikka taco fresh enough that I don’t ever have to go back to that chain with the gross pun for a name.
I also tried out boxing at Archetype. I went three days in a row on my three-class pass. I’m still processing.
Today, Saturday, I really tried to go paddleboarding, but all the rental shops were closed until noon and that was my drop-dead deadline for getting back home in time for work. I ubered out to EpicSUP, which ironically held a SUP clean-up on Friday that I didn’t find out about until Saturday when I reactivated my Instagram. The lake levels are low because Longhorn Dam got stuck open, which makes for excellent trash hunting, and I did see the Trail Conservancy volunteers out today. As soon as I joined the trail, behind a pair of dudes and in front of a pair of women, I overheard simultaneous conversations: “Why do you want to start the podcast?” and “It doesn’t scale” said as a call-and-response flow of two different conversations that mingled in an obnoxious way only I could hear.
My SUP FOMO led me to two more closed rental docks, walking about two miles in flip-flops and, under my Water Dog SUP Yoga rashguard, a swimsuit. But that journey allowed me to experience the new bridge and, lo and behold, some of Austin’s quirkiest residents: the green parakeets [not pictured; well, barely pictured].
There’s a flock that feasts in the parking lot of a bookstore I used to work at on North Lamar (one my kinder former co-workers feeds them). I can’t remember the lore, if they are descended from escaped pets or just a little too far north of their natural habitat, but someone once pointed out to me that they build nests throughout the city, following along the power lines (maybe for warmth?). Anyway, they were super active today! Busy building the nest and chirping the whole time. My grinning photoshoot prompted a few other people to look up, sparking joy, and I’m sorry the green isn’t very vivid in the photos, but IYKYK–they are remarkable. I just know the Hartman Bridge/Waterloo Greenway Phase 2 trail was routed to showcase their cute little communal home on Lady Bird Lake.
I ordered my California Club from Thundercloud while riding the bus home, and since it’s the last time I’ll be car-free in Austin (that news coming later), I showered, ate, and hopped right back on another bus over to Highland so I could get to campus and start work at Bennu. The Overheard with Evan Smith taping featured Jason Reitman and a reminder that public broadcasting is actively under attack as we speak, plus one of my favorite views of Austin at sunset.
Austin did put on a show today. I started this ExhAUSTIN’ category of the blog because I’m getting tired of her, but she really did meet me halfway today. Which is a good thing, because next week is a break.
Mandy Shelton 