I thought I’d share a little thang I wrote about a class my fiance and I took…on the road to marriage.

Marriage Class

I got a bad feeling about it when I saw the dirty feet of the bum’s girlfriend peeking out around the corner of the Baptist Association. Hey, it didn’t have to be a downer did it? This was true love, for better or for worse. They were curled around each other, toothless and half-naked in the early morning heat. We stopped and watched them for a second before they jerked awake.

“I’m sorry, man, we’re headed out right now ain’t we sweetie?” He grinned through his beard and his love pulled her shirt down and grabbed their little bag of belongings, already heading out. “You gots you a hottie there, man,” the bum said, winking at me and scuttling off. Before Nathan could say anything, they were gone. Men always address him first, probably because he’s a bigger guy and might look intimidating when he’s not smiling. I can’t see the intimidation factor- but maybe that’s because I know him. (And I can kick his ass.)

We shrugged it off and tried the door. Right on time- the email had warned us rather rudely not to be late, so here we were. Locked, and dark inside. I sighed. “Let’s go get some coffee, babe,” I said, and we walked over to grab some at the convenience store next door. We noticed a couple of other people waiting in the parking lot, some more couples out to get their freebie. We sat outside in the bum’s spot and tried to wake up.

 “It should be good,” Nathan said, always the optimist. “Maybe we’ll learn something.”

 Another sleepy couple wandered up. She was short with short dark blonde hair and freckles, and he looked like he might work in a mechanic’s shop out in Kyle or somewhere similarly small-town Texas.

“You here for the marriage class too?” I asked, and they nodded. We all did the ‘Hey, it’s free!’ shrug. Finally, a tall thin black man pulled up outside, rushing around his minivan pulling out papers and folders.

“I am here!” he said with an African accent. “I am very sorry I am late. I was getting ready for some conference in which I am speaking today, and the other instructors today are not showing up, so I was thinking I would cancel, but then I realized that I had people counting on me today so I am here for you.” Did he want a cookie or something for showing up at all?

 He unlocked the door and let us in. Two more couples showed up while we were waiting, all flustered about being late. We let them know they had no worries, at least about being late since the instructor wasn’t too timely himself. After another 20 minutes or so of set-up time and pointed glances back and forth, we finally got going.

 “So, thank you for being here. We are here to learn all the fundamentals of healthy relationships, however I have not looked at our materials at all. The other instructors were supposed to be doing this and now I am teaching this myself so we will learn together.” Wow. This was really starting out strongly. He proceeded to hand out various packets of paper, miscounting and shuffling them back and forth for about 15 uncomfortable minutes. It was very apparent that it was the first time he’d seen any of these materials.

I looked around the room. The first couple was next to us, and next to them in the semicircle was a nerd couple. He was white, mid-40s, bearded and dressed in mismatched clothing and a baseball cap, and his woman was short, coffee-black, with a pierced lip and thick coke bottle glasses. They fidgeted and look uncomfortable. The latest arrivals were an adorable blonde doll-like woman with porcelain skin and a very pregnant belly and a tall tattooed dark-haired man. We all introduced ourselves and told a few key facts. We learned that Nerd Couple were the only ones already married, and that Nerd Dude had been married several times and wanted to make this one work. So they were the only ones not in it for a free marriage license. Also, he let us know that he hated his father, and was uncomfortable in social situations, and also that he had no friends. Sweet. His wife liked acting, and they went to karaoke together weekly. The first couple we had met, we’ll call them Small-Town couple, had a couple of kids together and were from a small town. They seemed fairly normal, and also a bit unsure about the whole class situation. The last couple, The Austinites, had met working at a bike shop and had had a lot of relationship problems but wanted to make it work for the baby who was soon to make an appearance. She seemed very sincere and wholehearted about the class, and I started to feel sorry for her immediately. I had a feeling this was not going to be something that would help her out. Her boyfriend didn’t have much to say, but seemed like a laid-back stoner type.

 The instructor proceeded to lecture us all about what a good relationship he and his (white) wife had, about how her family called him a nigger at first (everyone almost shit a brick right in class when he said this, loudly, obviously to see what reaction he got), and told us various stories about being a pastor and helping people, followed up by what a great relationship he and his wife had. He was Nigerian, and had a self-help book that he let us know was in his minivan if we needed a copy. He would also be leaving during our lunch break to attend his aforementioned conference, but he would be right back to help us structure our relationships.

 I sat in a kind of dull awe as he read directly from his class manual, including word-for-word recitation of the intended “skits and performance” parts of the manual, i.e. “Person number one stands at front of class. Ok, ok we need a person number one. Ok, thank you Nerd Woman. You are an actress, yes? Perfect. Ok, person number two stands next to number one and pretends to be in an argument. Ok, you come up to be person number two. Ok, go.” It was all I could do not to burst out in full-on howling hyena laughter the entire time. I studiously avoided Nathan’s eyes but I could feel him about to explode next to me. He was trying hard to take the class seriously but I was already done for. There was no way I was going to make it through a whole day of this.

Nathan tried to talk to the instructor and argue when he said that the family must always do everything together. “Hey, we take vacations separately a lot,” Nathan said. “We feel that keeping our separate lives is important, and we have a great relationship,” he pointed out when the instructor talked about how you must come to terms on vacation spots when you’re married, or whose family it’s time to visit.

During one skit the Nerd Dude blurted out that he wanted to take his wife home to bang her, which was greeted by dead silence from everyone else and a full pig snort from me. I couldn’t help it. I was bursting with unfulfilled laughter. It was right at the bottom of my throat and it wasn’t going to take much to set it loose. The perfect release was soon to come, luckily for my strained esophagus.

Nathan was asked to participate in one of these read-from-the-page skits, which were getting much worse as willingness from the participants started to wane. It’s always my favorite when Nathan is asked to do anything which places him in the spotlight because he hates it. The skit proceeded as follows:

“Ok, ok now you stand here Nathan. Now, you Austinite dude stand in the middle. Ok, Nerd dude on the other side. Now, middle dude, you lift up your arms. You are representing the tree which is the – let’s see, it says you are representing the family. Now, guy on the left, Nathan right? You bend over at the waist. Ok, like that.” At this point I was shaking silently, looking at the floor. Nathan was starting to turn a dull brick color. “Ok, now, Nathan, you bend over at the waist and you grab on to this guy’s thigh.”

 “I’m not doing it,” Nathan said, and returned to his seat, ruining the beautiful skit of the tree and the roots.

 That was it, I lost it. Everyone else stared at me but I couldn’t help it. This was too funny. Were we being Punk’d? I was sure there was a camera somewhere.

It was such a train wreck that we came back from lunch break-tacos with the very sweet, genuine Austinites-waited for 10 minutes (the Nigerian was late again), and headed for home. It was sad that something that could have been a useful class was so ill-prepared, and mostly I felt sorry for the other couples. I gave a small wave as we drove past them on our way to “far away from there.” They were all waiting at the door disheartedly for the Nigerian relationship expert. Worse than the sadness over a crap class was that we wasted all that time and still didn’t get a free marriage license. But we strengthened our relationship in more important ways. We can agree on when it’s time to jet!

The candle wall- watch for hot wax! Or, go looking for it...

The new Vivo location is open! I think “I live” is a little high-and-mighty a name for a restaurant. I would name my restaurant something a little more descriptive, like COMO, or “I eat!” But whatevs. The north side of Austin finally has a place for the Barbies and Kens of the area to go out for date night, pick up other Barbies and Kens, and have some good ol’ “healthier” Tex-Mex fare.

Plus, 18 and up- that’s the best way to get me to frequent any spot! No screaming kids, no messes for the waitstaff, and no watching your language- say the F word all you like and don’t get dirty glares from your neighbors! The racy art here is the reason, the owner Roger Diaz made this last-minute decision before opening to avoid possibly offending, and for the most part patrons have approved of the idea.

The artists are all from San Antonio, where Diaz has his roots (his mother owns a popular Tex-Mex restaurant on the Riverwalk.) Gilbert Duran was commissioned for some of the focal art, the gold nudes that are placed above each black leather booth. Carla Veliz’ round, feminine figures bring a splash of Mexican vibrancy and color, and another San Antonio artist whose name I forget provided the black-and-white photo collages.

My favorite sexy lady

The restaurant is the second Vivo to open in Austin, and hopes to mirror the popularity of the Manor location. The restuarant plans to have an extensive patio finished by summertime, which is sure to add to the draw for after-work drinks and dinner. They have good food, with less lard and more vegetarian options- one of the specialties is the puffy tacos, the best thing I’ve had here is the shrimp enchiladas which are a weekend special- BOMB-ASS green sauce and grilled shrimp.

The decor and feel of the place is very feminine, sexy, and club-like, with great lighting and plenty of places to get cozy. They’re currently only open for dinner, and they just began happy hour daily from 4-7. Check it out, $1 off beers, $2 of cocktails (my favorite is the Vivo Ria, sangria made with tequila, also love the house margarita with cucumber puree.) The drinks are pricy, so take advantage!

Long, sleek, modern bar

Disclaimer: I am working part-time here. I want you to come in and spend money, on tips to me! If I wasn’t working here, I would totally be hanging out here anyway. And from what customers are saying, they are all very grateful to have a place on the north side that provides some ambiance and some “Austin” without having to drive all the way downtown.

I like a little sex with my Tex-mex...

First of all, I wonder who plans these things? This beautiful evergreen was right in the middle of the driest desert in Arizona…. while this palm tree was somewhere in Nevada…

I didn’t get a chance to take a pic of this one, so I stole it from the website of the company who made it…can you believe the size of this thing? 35 feet!

I can just imagine a few decades into the future- forests of metal trees! Massive goldenrods in parking lots! Gargantuan dandelions! All transmitting our social networking sites directly to the cube behind your ear..

Hard to believe, but some people feel that way

OK, so maybe I am known for being in random places at strange times. This time was another gig that I acquired in a means that was round-about, through-some-people-who-know-some-other-people, and besides I can really use the money so anyone who offers to pay me usually piques my interest.

It was posed to me as a “last-minute, can you come down here tomorrow?” way to make a little extra money selling flags. No problem, I can do that. I’ve sold wine, train trips, and food before. Flags will be easy. Little did I know that I would end up in the middle of a conservative rally, one which schooled me on the validity, nay the GODLINESS of what they report on Fox News.

I agree, in theory, that government spending will not fix the national debt. That most government-run programs are inefficient, spend too much money, and result in poorer service. But NOT having healthcare is also not an option that’s working too well for us. Obama has to do something, and I don’t know if what’s he’s working on is the best solution…but come on people, Obama is the devil? And seriously, you STILL don’t believe in global warming?? I thought people like this were a joke of a stereotype, unfortunately not so. I heard “We watch Fox News, we’re smart!” “NOBAMA!” and various other surprising rallying calls from a supposedly bipartisanship effort- this Tea Party Express Tour that’s been going from coast-to-coast spreading the word. About thugs in Congress, and how Obama sucks, and stuff. And I was right in the middle selling conservative buttons, which included “Stop Global Whining” the old “Obama as the Joker” image and other hilarious sayings. They sold pretty well. I felt like a turncoat, even though I wouldn’t describe myself as a liberal or a conservative. I feel too strongly about too many issues on the opposite sides of these parties to lump myself with the rest. I have to go Independent, because I really think the death penalty is a good thing, like to carry a gun, and wholeheartedly believe in a woman’s right to choose on abortion and that we have to do something about our oil consumption. Besides, I didn’t hear a great solution besides “hand these thieves a pink slip,” and they never mentioned the fact that these ousted politicians would only be replaced by more politicians just like them. Doesn’t sound like a fix to me.

Anyway. I skulked among the “Don’t Tread on Me” flags, took surreptitous photos, and generally marvelled. It was my birthday, and I was glad to be in a spot I never expected. If I ask for anything on my birthday, it’s for the unexpected and memorable. Thanks for supporting the effort! (This was the least  hypocritical thing I could say to the button purchasers, so I’ll sign off with that line.)

We went this past Wednesday to see Soul Track Mind, local soul band, and send off a Couchsurfer who’s felt the call to get back on the road after a few fun months in Austin. The music is good, and everyone gets out on the dance floor and shakes it, even without air conditioning. I don’t think I could last in here during the summer. You’re dripping with sweat in minutes and rubbing it all over everybody, but unfortunately it goes both ways. If I was anointing the masses with my body sweat, that’s one thing. When they anoint you back sometimes it’s frightening. I’ve also never felt a dance floor sway down far enough to hit the foundation. I have a feeling one of these days it will collapse and fling all the soul-lovers straight down to hell.

TC’s has a cover most of the time when there’s music, they say $5, but there wasn’t one on Wednesday. They also have free food- it was just hot dogs this time, but I’ve heard once in a while there’s real, good home-cooked chow.

If you want to be real “East-siders” try to avoid Wednesday night, which they call “white night” cuz the whiteys like Soul Track Mind and everyone flocks here almost turning it into busy central bar. I think the rest of the time it’s pretty chill, though I heard tell that Monday also gets crazy sometimes. Very fun place. Hang out back by the dumpsters for extra fun.

Welcome home!

I think this is what those who had high hopes for Woodstock were trying to create, and I’m guessing it’s the kind of atmosphere that was present at Haigh-Ashbury before the utopian ideas collapsed. It’s a community of like-minded people, here to celebrate life, love, art and peace. Or for those who love anarchy. It somehow has space for everyone. It’s a society where you don’t need money, you can let out your inner drag queen, and no one minds if you walk around naked on acid. They might even love you a little more for being yourself. There’s a job for everyone to do, if you want to, and you can give just about anyone a hug just because you feel like it without anyone looking at you strangely. You’ll come across people playing, everywhere you go- old people, young people, married people. There’s laughter, merry-go-rounds, roller-skating, and an unbelievable amount of talented people that are dying to show you their talent and help you learn how to hula hoop, do acrobatics, walk on stilts, or cross-stitch. Someone might randomly walk in front of your camp, singing a beautiful song they made up right that moment just because they’re happy. And everyone who hears it will clap, because they appreciate it. You might meet a woman who’s just learned she’s getting a divorce, and you will give her a kiss and take her hand and not mind if she starts to cry in public. There’s a lot of crying here too- tears of release, regret, and joy.

Inscriptions on the temple

This year was very different for me. My first year was more about walking around with my mouth open, amazed that such a place really existed, and that so many people’s imaginings and fantasies came to life here in the middle of the desert, in the heat and the dust. This year, there were things I was supposed to be doing, places I was supposed to be, and people I was supposed to meet. In some ways it only made me dig in my heels and refuse to do much at all. I did volunteer at the Black Rock City Post Office, which I highly recommend to anyone that has the inclination. Yes, you can really send mail, yes, the employees are disgruntled, and it’s rather shocking to see the amount of mail and packages that are delivered to and from this little hub of activity. Postal employees will go out and find your camp to deliver your mail, in dust or rain, asking your neighbors where you’re located- and they’re not even union! Some people send mail to friends they can’t find but are trying to meet up with, then follow the postal employee to the camp. Pretty amazing!

The man- Evolution 2009

Meeting the Roads Scholars was a great experience. They turned out to be such a diverse group of people full of light, inspiration, and grand ideas. Pat the Digital Vagabond was also fun to get to know. He’s an interesting fellow who I advise you get to know through his blog , which showcases his stories and photos from his life as a real vagabond. Ed Buryn, author of 1973 cult classic Vagabonding in America, was our dean of ceremonies at the Roads Scholar graduation event- there are some great pics on Pat’s blog. I believe I gave an acceptance speech, but I have no idea what I said or why. Days of no sleep will do that to a person…

I also enjoyed meeting the Technomads, a very nice couple who travel the country as well, roaming free and wirelessly. We camped with a group of nomads in Camp Nomadia, where I met so many people who reminded me that it’s possible and wonderful to be free without being tied to a certain geographic space. I was heartened to see them living in exactly the way they wished to live, and loving every minute.

The line to get through the gates

The weather this year was rough, and the dust was out of control. The more use the playa sees, the dustier it gets, so it’s only going to get worse as numbers grow and people insist on driving giant RVs into campsites. As a tent dweller, I was jealous of the RVs and resentful of the amount of dust they subjected the rest of us to. Our first two days seemed to be dominated by dust storms, and that can wear you out quickly. Dust permeates your bed, your dishes, your food. My campmate Khristina was awed by her first Burning Man, but understandably tired and exhausted from the heat, so we mutually decided to leave before the burn and headed home, our heads and hearts filled with new experiences and new family. Maybe one of these days I’ll actually get to see the Man burn.

More photos here:

http://alannaroethle.wordpress.com/photographs/black-rock-city-2009/

Headed down to Tucson

Though these posts are coming a bit late, I’m still out there, in my head at least. I wish I was! After leaving New Mexico, which I really didn’t want to do for some reason, I took the winding road through Mule Creek Pass to Tucson. This treacherous, beautiful section of road is always empty and feels as if you’re descending from a much higher altitude, if only because you’re headed to hot, flat desert.

I got a call almost to Tucson from wonderful Enterprise Rent a Car, they’ll pick you up didn’t you know! I will never rent from them again- the guy told me if I wasn’t there in half an hour, they were closing and I wouldn’t be able to pick up my car. They call me the same day I’m supposed to pick up the car, not a day before so I could make alternate plans.  Awesome. I should have learned my lesson from the last time I rented from this place (on Grant Road)- my brakes fell out of the car halfway to Austin. I mean, the brake pads FELL OFF. The towtruck driver said he’s only seen that happen once in the past 20 years. Well, I learned my lesson good. I advise you avoid this partifular rental shop if you want to live.

I headed out to Fatal Arabian ranch up near the mountains in Tucson to meet up with my travel buddy, my BFF Khristina. She was very, very excited. I wish I could post the video clip of her reaction…but am not currently able to embed files. Imagine a 6 year old who’s had several shots of pure sugar and is equipped with 26-year-old vocal cords. I love her

We loaded up with groceries and energy drinks. Preparing for Burning Man is unlike packing for any other trip you’ll ever take. Along with your normal survival essentials, you’ll need dusk masks, goggles, all the water you’ll use for a week, crazy costumes, blinky lights, cold weather clothes, hot weather clothes, rebar stakes to hold things down, and lots and lots of baby wipes. Trust me, you’ll need lots of them. There’s a little condition known as “playa crotch” that experienced Burners can tell you all about. Baby wipes will help you alleviate this troublesome ailment.

And did you know that they are making it impossible for bums to steal shopping cards these days? Not having tried to steal a shopping cart before, we were hauling ass at a good “ha ha we’re taking a cart” kind of clip when a bum yelled at us that we were in trouble. Not understanding, we hit the invisible wall that now secures shopping carts to the parking lots of their respective stores. Ouch. It’s really like hitting a brick wall at full speed. Now we know. Thanks, bum. Too little too late.

We set off way before reasonable daylight hours, somewhere in the vicinity of 4 am, after emergency stops to get bungee cords and propane. The car creaked under a ridiculous load, we said some prayers, and started off on the 16 hour trek across some of the loneliest, creepiest country in the U.S.

Nevada is full of people hiding out from the law/family/bill collectors, brothels, empty roads, and cows. It’s a moonscape, and while beautiful, has always struck me as horror-movie fodder. Take this place, for instance. Of course pets are o.k.! They taste great!! Muah ha ha ha ha hahaaa!

This place is not a joke. Tonopah, Nevada.

Have you ever noticed how long it takes to drive across West Texas? It’s an endless drive full of barbed wire and tumbleweeds, and if you’re not careful all of a sudden you’re moving at 105. Lead foot can creep up on you real quick-like in Texas. I had a basic plan for this trip, which involved spending the first half helping my momma with some hard physical labor, and the the rest full of seeing a few friends that I’ve been missing, 30 hours worth of driving, alkaline playa, and nudity. Other than that it was all about being open to whatever happened.

I took off from Austin at 9 at night, planning to drink a six pack of energy drinks and book-on-cd my way through the next 10 hours or so. I just had to make it to Las Cruces, where I visited one of my very best friends from high school and an old college buddy. Well, he’s not old. And I’m not old either. Just sayin’.

I listened to “Gods Behaving Badly,” by Marie Phillips, which took up just about the whole night and was surprising, funny, and a damn good listen. It’s read by an English-woman with a cute accent, and it’s about the gods from Mount Olympus living in present-day London in a dirty little flat with weakening powers. It’s also got a nerdy love story and some great plot twists, and manages to not be corny while being very sarcastic. I highly recommend it.

With my head buzzing from too much taurine and whatever the hell else is in energy drinks, I rolled through El Paso around 4 in the morning. El Paso looks its best late at night when you can’t see the apocalyptic waste that makes up the anus of Texas.

El Paso at 4 am

An hour later I was transported back to my college days, and strangely enough the same music is still on the radio from 5 years ago. The Organ Mountains are as beautiful as ever, and I had serious flashbacks for the day and a half I got to spend in the town of my alma mater. Bittersweet memories, and I had some serious nostalgia that made me miss New Mexico and almost want to come back. Almost, until I went out the next night after sleeping off my night-driving-hangover. And remembered that there’s seriously nothing to do, and that nothing ever changes. There are some things that can be great about that, but not if you ever plan to grow or change at any time in your future life. But, hey, impromptu rave party!

Check out the self-professed best DJ in the LC

I didn’t get to spend enough time with my highschool buddy Mona, but thanks for letting me stay with you! I enjoyed the puppies, and seeing your beautiful new house.

On the way out as I headed for the Gila to visit Momma, I smelled the smell that most reminds me of New Mexico- roasting green chile! If you’ve never smelled this in the fall, you’re missing out. I made a pact with myself to pick up a box on my way back.

The next several days I spent helping out the Moms, but we took a break to visit the pretty little ghost town of Mogollon, a remnant of silver and copper mining days that’s still tucked away in the mountains around Glenwood.

The people who still live here are hardcore mountain men and women. We found a blackberry bramble and fought off the locals to collect enough for blackberry-apple cobbler. YUM.

She scared away the bears

I ate more than I picked

I love this country...