Night On The Town

 

Back in the day I'd think nothing of hopping in the stick shift Ranger and getting on the road to Dallas for some late night fun or even early night fun, whatever. These days? Not so much. Then GWB called, "I'm in town on Thursday, let's hang out."

runway

I thought about this for maybe a second, "Where?" And before you could say the Ukraine's a Biden family printing press got a reply, "Javiers." Wow, Javiers, Dallas institution, dodge the Lamborghinis if you can. "Sure thing, let's RV at 1800."

loud as you like and then some

And so we did, for bar fun followed by carnitas followed by wine in the smoking room, yes they have one. I tell you, the sheer noise of Dallas exuberance wasn't far off a sound system going full tilt. Fun, if loud. And you have to wonder how many of these boys bellowing beneath the trophies are actual hunters.

Lambo

We asked one, "So what are you doing to celebrate Pride month? Hangn' out a flag or what?" Polling, you see. Quick as a flash our boy came back, "Uh, nothing. Don't hold with that." Nor did we, "Hold for dove?" Yes indeed and dam straight, by the 1000, in Argentina no less. "I understand you have to tape your trigger finger." That's where he was at and fair play.

Vocal chords exhausted, dial up a driver and head for home, restaurant budget exhausted for the year. Kyrie, but great result.

What a fun night,

LSP

On The Road

Whoever said life'd be easy? No one, and with that in mind I left the sylvan groves of old Texas for the concrete metrosprawl of the DFW megacity, not once but twice. Why? Because I had meetings in the 'sprawl and duty called.

The first part of the drive on I35W isn't bad, a fairly empty 4 lane highway through rolling farmland, passing by Itasca and Grandview. Then you get to Alvaredo and the pace picks up as you drop into the Fort Worth lowlands.

Metroplex at Night. Yellow Line = Connecticut

There you are in the Metroplex, on a multilane racetrack dreamed up in bowels of Hell. It goes on for miles, 9,286 square miles to be precise, about two thirds the size of Holland and larger than the states of Connecticut and Rhode Island combined. It's growing, too, like a monster.

Well you can't blame people for moving here from socialist hellhole states, but I'd argue you can blame the so-called urban planners who decided that city and 20 lane highway were synonyms. You'd think, after several thousand years of Western civic culture, that we could come up with something better than the 'sprawl. Thank God I live in a road, said no one ever.

It Was Going to be This

Great, readers, will be the fall of it. I know, that'll never happen because the way we live now will go on forever and ever, per saecula saeculorum, but imagine the grid went down, which of course it never will because the grid's immortal, but say for example it did. And you're living in the 'spawl with no water, electricity and before long, food. How would you get out?

But Ended up This

Dirt bikes, on foot? Apocalypse aside, the meetings were good, though it seemed strange to be in the city. Back in the country, Mexican music's in the air and with it the delicious aroma of slow cooked carnitas. 

This makes fasting difficult and speaking of roads, Jack Kerouac was a catholic.

Drive safe,

LSP

Low Sunday

Today is Low Sunday and the air is filled with the smell of slow cooking pork, which my neighbors have put on their fire pit, and with the sound of chickens, which have escaped the grill. The peacock is strangely silent.

Rain is falling and I reflect on Thomas, who touched the wounds of Christ. "My Lord and my God," he said. My dog, Blue Anselm, doesn't seem too struck by this and dozes on the kitchen floor. He is a natural theologian.

God bless,

LSP