THE BOWLING ALLEY
The lanes were mostly occupied by students wearing rented smoothsoled bowling shoes and in various states of gameplay lounging on plastic couches bolted to the floor or sitting forward in chairs at the scoring table sipping cokes jotting down scores on long pieces of paper while glancing at monitors hanging from the ceiling displaying numbers and strikes and spares, candyboxes and ketchupandmustardspattered hot dog boats littered the floor, pins clattering balls rolling teammates cheering the better bowlers wearing special gloves and sliding as they swung & released the balls along the honeycolored floor the outstretched release hand the back foot crossing behind the braking foot like flamenco dancers watching the balls spin and curve towards a sweetspot.
MAKING OUT IN THE STAIRWELL
I entered a cramped stairwell that to the left went down to a bowling alley and to the right went up to a third story ballroom with satellite club rooms appointed with copper sconces and leather & brass tacked chesterfield chairs - we never went up there - in the strained darkness of the upstairs stairwell I could see Jon Eric kissing a girl we called Stockings and with his black polo dark hair gleaming eyes he looked like a vampire slanted over a milkmaiden in some carpathian castle of candelabras and cobwebs his fingers played over the bra strap visible thru her sheer green blouse, he saw me over her shoulder, gave me a thumbsup.
Man on a Unicycle
A unicyclist wheeled by wearing enormous headphones cabled out from a walkman clipped to his jorts his fingerlessgloved fists punching the air in time with the music as he spun past me - as he unicycled past me while spinning - long curly hair whirring out the back of his cycling cap, visor flipped up, grinning.
I turn upon a wide slate pathway cloistered between a brick wall and long rectangular planters stuffed with silver ponyfoot and stunted mountain laurel, I pluck a purple laurel blossom, hold it up to my lips, crush it between my fingertips, it smells of grape soda, I taste it, spit it out.
I walked along the carpeted aisle towards the sales counter a long glass wall to my right separating the general bowling area from the pool room the green felt catching the light like green ribbons floating in a roman grid of twelve pool tables and two snooker tables and periodic loadbearing pillars with wraparound shelves at chest height for drinks, ancient pillshaped cigarette burns melted into the lacquer, another glass wall peered from the pool room into the arcade its blinking lights its beepy sounds its players jerking their hands across the consoles like factory workers.
I went down the stairwell emerging unto a cavernous room with a yellowish glow the long maple bowling lanes the black urethane gutters hyphenating away into dark maws that regurgitated the balls back to the return where they slurped down twin chrome rails bumping against other balls with loud pops, the lanes were mostly occupied by students wearing rented smoothsoled bowling shoes and in various states of gameplay lounging on plastic couches bolted to the floor or sitting forward in chairs at the scoring table sipping cokes jotting down scores on long pieces of paper while glancing at monitors hanging from the ceiling displaying numbers and strikes and spares, candyboxes and ketchupandmustardspattered hot dog boats littered the floor, pins clattering balls rolling teammates cheering the better bowlers wearing special gloves and sliding as they release the ball sliding along the honeycolored floor the outstretched release hand the back foot crossing behind the braking foot as they watch the ball curve towards the pins.
I emerged from the dim & quiet alleyway onto 24th street its car engine roar its neon signs hauling forth a new world entire, the sky a burnt orange backwash of the illuminated tower the nearer atmosphere risen by glaucomic halos circling out from stoplights from passing headlights cigarette cherries urban heatsink radiating up thru footsoles of students bustling chattering smiling past me as I stood considering the sweat on my upper lip.
Things grew dark as I walked thru the sleepy campus grounds the white cordova limestone buildings with their barrel tile rooves glowing beneath the dark orange sky the limestone walls textured with ancient sea ammonites and bivalves and snails their molds their steinkerns preserved by cretaceous mud broken open and presenting as pressed flowers that I run my fingers along.
Anvil business done in Europe, couple days in Vienna on the back end to immerse myself in Stephensdom, one of the great Gothic cathedrals. It’s like something made by an advanced alien civilization, though construction began on it nearly a thousand years ago. Spent the late afternoon going around the outside, the stone carving is amazing, just mind boggling. The craftsmanship, belief and wealth that went into this thing is unreal. Went inside and caught the end of Sunday Mass, the organ music playing is from that Mass. Tomorrow will spend the day seeing everything inside.
@christopherrufo@uaustinorg Your 9 year old would love Big Top Candy Shop on south Congress, which is a great area to stroll around. Your 15 year old might like the Austin Bouldering Project, which has a huge indoor rockclimbing gym. Can't beat Barton Springs during the day on a weekday for staying cool.
Building a chapel, part 4. Having used a plumb to mark the corners I scribe the outline into the dirt and start digging the hole for the rubble trench.