Black and Sun

It’s official: we’re moving to Austin. Details to come…

We’re in Austin again. For a couple days. Setting the wheels of Change in motion.

I believe those wheels are now set – I expect to find out for sure in the next few days. Den too has found in Austin a well of opportunities, here in this funky little unpretentious hub of music, film and talent. An audio producer’s dream.

I haven’t slept in three days. Which is totally unlike me. My mind whirling, ceaselessly on even as I’m slipping in and out of slumber; grilling myself in dreams; conversations looping in my head. Buck up little girl, my tireless brain says again and again to my anxious heart; if you want Change to happen, you have to make it so. Don’t drop the ball on this one. Like a skipped CD, a tepid pep talk set on repeat. My breath remains shallow; I am doing little to self-comfort or encourage.

I feel like this whole grown-up, professional façade is just something I’m pretending to do. My act is convincing, apparently. Which disturbs me further. I spend the majority of my waking life in this role, but I still have a hard time believing in it. I have this secret hope that Austin may change that. Maybe it’s the cold, judgy northeast that’s the problem. Maybe back South I can be a little more real in my professional persona. I harbor this hope, but really I’m scared. Now that Change is in motion, Change suddenly feels very scary.

It’s 5am. The birds are awake. The street cleaners murmured down Congress Street 35 minutes ago. An hour ago I drew a bath and finished reading my book. Everyman by Philip Roth. Left with us by Den’s grade school friend Beth, after she visited last weekend for their friend Jen’s memorial service. A good book therapy book about death. And life. And the nothing that comes after. Jen was too young to die, and death came upon her too suddenly. All the more reason to face life head-on. Change is good.

I’m now at my computer, trying to be quiet. Den is lying in the dark, with the little alarm clock radio on at a whisper, the local Indy station KGSR cajoling him to sleep; insomnia is contagious in hotel rooms.

Last night after a dinner of tacos and margaritas at Guerro’s, we walked down Congress Street at dusk to the bat bridge, where the colony of Mexican free-tail bats is said to blanket the sky each evening as they fly en masse out from under the bridge and over Town Lake for their evening feast. We only saw a few though, the bat performance never happened. By 9:15 the crowd began to disperse. It was windy, perhaps bats don’t like wind. On the way back we poked our head into the Elephant Room, but it was empty, nothing playing.

And so we returned to our hotel where I crashed, exhausted, hoping to finally sleep through the night. Only to awaken four hours later, feeling somehow removed from my body. My mind taking the lead on kicking Change into motion, my timid psyche hangs somewhere in the balance. Unsure, but charged, bristling, ready to bolt.

Today is my “vacation day.” No interviews, just hanging out. Seeing my Austin friend. Maybe taking a walk to find a bookstore that stocks the little Moleskine notebooks I so love. I think it’s time I begin keeping a journal again. A new adventure awaits.