BARS! Returning to the fold.

As I've mentioned before, I don't always get out all that much, and in my two and a half years in Austin, my once-winterized seasonal shut-in patterns have readjusted themselves. The fresh warmth of early summer gets me all riled up and hungry for action, but as the stale September heat starts to drag, I slow down along with it, worn out and coveting solitude. Which is why, in defiance of all my climatic prejudices, these first little tickles of chilliness feel so goddamn good. Relieving, rejuvenating, and just enough to wipe away a little weariness and get this furry animal to poke its head back out of the cave.

Of course, there's one easy way of telling how often I've been going out, and it's proof of a long hibernation that I haven't been to Lovejoy's in weeks, if not months. As the family, friends, lovers, and long-time readers among you are already well aware, Lovejoy's is a place that possesses not just one of the keys to my heart, but a pretty sizable portion of the entire ring. The whole establishment may as well be a figment of my imagination for how completely it matches my ideal of everything a bar should be, and the magnificent bastards even went ahead and got a pinball machine with a sticky plunger to round it all out. One more key down.

After the long stretch away, stepping back through those dark doors felt all warm and fuzzy and whatnot. There was a run at the beginning of the year where myself and some other Wheatsvillains could be spotted at Lovejoy's literally every Sunday night, and sliding into a broken-in booth felt kind of like coming back from a break to start a new semester. Only, unlike the depressing, regressive, extended-high-school institution that dubbed me a Bachelor of Science, I adore this place, and unlike any provider of higher education that I'm aware of, the only course requirements are to drink delicious beer. Hell, it could even be coffee, if you're a teetotaler with a taste for great atmosphere and some stunning self-control.

Anyways, it felt great to be back, not once but twice, bookending some Music Monday "heavy metal horror" fun that finally broke my Alamo Ritz cherry. (Like I said, man. Hermit. And yeah, it's nice, but I miss the old one even more now.) The Up in Smoke Porter quenched my thirst with blackberry-tinted deliciousness, good company added up for good times, everything was perfect in my perfect little dive. The deeper autumn digs in, the easier I'm gonna get to find.