Stop Three. 302 W. 38th St. #117, ATX 78705. Monday 1/4/2021.
Used to be called the Le Marquee Apartments when I lived here. They’re called something else now, es non importante. Still as unsecured as when I left, so was able to walk right up to my old front door, which is a first. There’s all the mailboxes behind me – was always a bit of a pain to have the mail traffic, squeaking and noises right outside the breakfast nook/kitchen area, but not too bad.
Managed to stay there two years, another first. Junior year at UT with roomie Bob Bechtol, senior year with roomie John Svatek, god rest his crazy Czech soul. Liked it pretty well, close to the Speedway buses, calm but OK with my stereo – etc. Many formative events of my life occurred here. I could go on for hours. But I won’t.
However, in this entry, I’d like to stress how pretty much everybody in the world except you, dear reader, is kinda a douche. Once again, the bike did pretty well on this trip but no fewer than 3 different cars decided they had to fuck with me on this ride. One CARAMEL FILLED JACKMOUTH in a PICKUP TRUCK DECIDED he needed to YELL “SIDEWALKS”! at me, even though…yeah, you know it, go ahead and say it…bikes aren’t supposed to ride on the sidewalk. Some other fucker on Oltorf decided they HAD to honk at me three times, and then somewhere downtown somebody decided that in the great scheme of things, they really needed to call me “STUPID!”. Now, granted, I may not be the best biker rider in the world, but is all this really necessary? I realize I was doing a LOT of harm by bicycling, like, a whole real lot of harm. A lot.