819 miles, Austin to Atlanta

According to the calender, its officially Spring here in these parts, though you wouldn't really know it if you lived in these parts. A weekend blast of 6-8 inches of snow... again... yet again... and already its melting... again...

I would say now that I'm officially done with it all, thrown up my hands, goddamn I declare, I'm done with this winter shit... but I know two weeks from now its gonna come again, the winter reminder, I'm not quite done yet...

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Where is my mind? This last week my mind has been in overdrive. My mind and my spirit are north and south. I've been going utterly bug fuck, about what, I'm not quite sure.

I'll admit the "worst date ever" left me in a mood for some reason. It seemed at the time, those couple days in the aftermath, that I hadn't learned anything at all concerning the realm of dating, of relationships, of how to deal with other people, that after all this time I still fall into the same susceptible patterns we are all doomed with to fall into over and over again... Some how we make it work, we go on, we go on and on again.

We know the banana peel is there, but we slip on it anyway.

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(Question = Has anyone, ever, actually slipped on a banana peel? And I would really like to meet the first human ever that ever slipped on a banana peel. Often times I wonder about those first few, the few that created entire cliches, and stereotypes that we hold dear)

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Enter St. Patty's day. I think this one threw me for an even bigger loop. Anyone who knows me, knows I quite am taken with the drink, and that any holiday dedicated to drinking is lost on me. Amateur night in my book, as the old saying goes.

And I even showed up early to the bar, and luckily found unexpected friends there.

I'll admit I was nervous. I had been trying for a week to find the right time to ask her out. It was actually on the day of the "worst date ever," which before hand, the prospect of a date, had filled me with such joy, and confidence, that I was buzzing around the apartment, walking down the sidewalk with a spring in my step, content and dancing my way through town, that I went and got coffee at work, and she was there, right there, by the coffee station, waiting for something, and there I talked to her, asking her when she'd be coming out with us, the coworkers. Secretly I just wanted her to come out with me, for me.

I asked a coworker of hers to invite her out. It was a long shot, I could have done it myself, and it opened me up to ridicule, but I went for it anyways.

And then she came in.

It had been about thirty minutes. I was on the way to buy another beer, but I stopped to say "hi,"
and I did, and then we didn't stop talking. I didn't smoke, I didn't realize I hadn't bought a beer. We just traded stories, and kept talking. I went without these things, and didn't notice. I was glued on her words.

People the next day gossiped, people knew. Those in on the "set-up," realized right away, they didn't even need to be there for the "set-up." They said we were in a bubble; I only spoke to someone else twice in the course of the evening. Everyone else wanted details, sadly.

I've dated enough coworkers to know the ins and outs of the grinding of the rumor mill. And I don't care. Let them talk. I'll admit, its hard to suppress a huge, shit-eating grin, and trying to maintain the cool.

But I found it extremely hard to do that morning. I was excited, genuinely excited about a girl again. Its a most wondrous feeling. I found faith in women-kind again. I'll admit I had some harsh feelings going on there for a while. And originally I planned for 6-8 months of healing before I got involved with hearts and bodies again... But I spent three months brooding, and life is too short. Time is limited.

Very limited. She moves away in less than a month.

I know how to pick them.

I do. I do, indeed.

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I mean, it made sense, in my brain. (For once...) I like a girl that's leaving... because its safe, she'll be gone, we have a mad, passionate romance, like road-magic, reap all the benefits, no drama and negative aftermath... The deadline. Time is of the essence. And after last night, wow, I'm thinking I really like her.

I cannot get over it. My bedsheets smell like girl again. The best smell.

We drank wine that tasted like grape-juice. I hate grape-juice. But I love wine, and at least it had alcohol in it. Then we tried to build a snowman, with only a tree branch, a package of ancient tortillas (which were months and months old, but free of mold. Scary. How long does this food last? It seemed unreal to me. What's in our food?), and two ancient clementines, which have hardened and shrunk to a rock-like size. Perfect eyes.

But the snow was not packing snow. And the resultant snow-ball fight was even worse... the balls evaporated in the air, leaving a dusting of snow on the other person. Then back inside for more wine and then I serenaded her with my new songs on the guitar. Sounds cheesy, but yes, it works. He, he.

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She's encouraging me to move to Austin.

Her and everyone else...

She's in the same boat I am... Moving, deciding to move, stature in life, etc...

As you can see, I'm kinda losing my head over it. And it feels good. I feel utterly human again.

I feel utterly human again. After three and a half long months of complete stress and depression and alienation, I feel human again.

(Listen to the new Mountain Goats album, specifically the song "Autoclave" and you'll know what I mean. Its a pop gem, something I'd never thought I'd say about a Mountain Goats song. And describes exactly what I felt like.)

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Like I said, its spring here, but you'd hardly know it. But I feel it. So, so soon, and then summer, and then out.

And I really, really, really like a girl again. It feels good.

And she likes me.

Yes!

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I sent her one of the best text messages I have ever conceived. The kind that fall into the "Should I send this, or not? category." Text messages are funny sometimes.

It read, "You should just assume that I want to hang out with you every night before you go. But I understand you got stuff to take care of. Just sayin'."

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I didn't think I was really ready for this, but here I go, go ga-ga for a girl again.

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Ps. In honor of our lovely, Spring, snowy weather, I shaved off the mutton chops. I can see my face again. Those thing were thicker and longer than I've ever grown before, and also very annoying lately. I look ten years younger. Still got it!

And I'm verily seriously considering growing a mustache, a moo-stash, if you will. Its something I once swore I would never do, certain patriarchal reasons (He's had one forever). But I have snapped photos of one on my face when shaving the rare full beard I grow. And then destroyed them immediately. In a great fire.

But I think I'm ready to cross that line, jump that hurdle. Too many people today have bemoaned the loss of the chops.

I mean, they'll grow back, really.

But a mustache? A genuine mustache! Some guys can pull it off. I'm not sure I have the inner strength. Maybe I should wait until the girl moves away, before pulling something like that on her. Although, she did accept me, chops and all...

Where is my mind?