Apparently, in September, leaves don't change color. Shit doesn't get cold here until AT LEAST November. Last year at Thanksgiving I was in a tank top. No, in September San Antonio becomes something of a Seattle. Not for lack of its inherent grungliness, already being dubbed by nightcrawlers from prairies far and wide as Austin's neglected stepchild from the South. Rather its because - and quite simply for me - with no new music, no cable (until recently), and an entire upstairs living quarters stripped of any mirrors whatsoever, one actually finds the time to take a few chill pills and just burrow, you know?
Relax, this isn't a cry for help. It's reality.
Rock on Ramen.
Every so often in life we stumble off the beaten path of routine and can, for a moment, encounter beauty in an otherwise unforeseen location. Call it the delicate balance between hurried keyboard strokes, or perhaps even divine intervention. Either way, when I wanted Vagabond Don and found Vagabond Bond instead, I was privileged to learn their story.
Apparently, in September, leaves don't change color. Shit doesn't get cold here until AT LEAST November. Last year at Thanksgiving I was in a tank top. No, in September San Antonio becomes something of a Seattle. Not for lack of its inherent grungliness, already being dubbed by nightcrawlers from prairies far and wide as Austin's neglected stepchild from the South. Rather its because - and quite simply for me - with no new music, no cable (until recently), and an entire upstairs living quarters stripped of any mirrors whatsoever, one actually finds the time to take a few chill pills and just burrow, you know? 
