As some of you know, I've been working on a manuscript for awhile now, and am actually nearing completion, a proposition which has been demanding a lot of my free time recently. I've been somewhat energized, being home and all, which is good, though it hasn't left much time for this blog. The ideas are sort of swirling round my head, cause now's time to create some of the anchors, thematically—mainly, a short story tentatively titled Adahy's Testimony, which is assuming a life of its own. All the poems—around 70, in all—are tied together by this story, and its ideas are the bedrock of what I believe, and what I am. Heady stuff, and a little daunting, and I'm questioning a lot of what I thought I wanted to say. This is not to say that I'm gonna change it—may not change an iota—but I think it's important to examine it, closely, before I commit the heart of my project to it. I'm sure I'll be writing about some of these ideas soon—though I've written of many of em already, since this blog began, a year ago—but just so you know, that's where I'm at.
I love the way of life here, in Austin. Our culture's filled with many things, none more than sunshine and tacos. And how much more do you need, really???
You know about Austin's sunshine already, I'm sure—like my friend Christopher was saying the other day, the difference between Austin and other sunshine cities is how we fucking embrace the sunshine here—we don't groan about the heat, we take joy from it, design our lives around it. It's part of our identity, and we wouldn't change it, for anything.
A few words about tacos, though, cause I know many of you are fucking gringos and gringas (which isn't your fault, don't get me wrong—you are still entitled to enjoy our amazing tacos). Taco wagons are everywhere here, and most of em are pretty fucking good, plus there's Torchy's, Taco Deli, Taco Maria, El Chilito, et al—you could have tacos every meal here, easy. And it would be great.
Just one thing, though: a taco is made from a soft, warm, corn tortilla. That's it. This can be extended, by the unsophisticated among you, to included tortillas that have been deep-fried, into a U shape. However, if it's made with a flour tortilla, it is NOT A TACO. It is a burrito, no matter how you fucking fold it.
So, you find yourself at an authentic taco stand, don't embarrass yourself. Don't embarrass the taco, for God's sake. Order it right, eat it right. You'll be glad you did.
Now, they'll serve it to you on a flour tortilla, alright—when you walk up, they may even assume you want it that way. Remember, they serve dumb white people all day—but believe this: When you're walking away, clutching your little bag of misshapen burritos, they're thinking, Dumbass.
So, yeah, don't be a dumbass. Ask for corn.