I’m 30 years old today, and I’m sitting at Jo’s coffeeshop in Austin, Texas by myself at 11AM, and it’s great. The weather is cool and overcast and the people-watching is fantastic. I’m eating a lemon poppyseed muffin, drinking coffee, and I have birds begging me for food.
My associates (4 girls) are still asleep after a long night of partying like rock stars with semi-rockstars, or at least a band. They got in around 5AM. I didn’t go out last night; I still have a cold and I wanted to take it easy. My body definitely would not have been able to withstand the evening the girls had. I stayed in and watched Secretary on Oxygen while sending text messages to Katherine, who was watching Almost Famous. By complete coincidence we were watching one of each others’ favorite films. All the more tragic was the fact that she was most likely NOT watching the Director’s Cut, and I was watching an edited version with commercials.
Yesterday I saw The Go! Team, Of Montreal, and The Black Heart Procession. Sadly I missed Mr. Lif, Blackalicious and Spoon (and Echo and the Bunnymen), but hey that’s how it goes around here – you grab the gusto you can. There’s a lot to be had. Tonight hopefully I’ll catch up with my only essentials for this year’s SXSW – The Soft.Lightes and Animal Collective. And maybe, just maybe, I might run into Jellyfish’s Roger Manning.
So. 30. I wish I could say I have some big roiling, revelatory spiel about the pseudo-significance of this particular mileage turnover, but I don’t. I don’t think it’s going to alter the way I act or think. I made a decision long ago to avoid being a grownup in the standard sense. I really haven’t changed much since I was 14, and I don’t think I’m going to start soon.