Letters (to the On the Street Penthouse Suite)
More waves lap back to shore from the Cave cover storyâ?¦
I thought you might be interested to know that we took “Pat” into the cave last Thursday evening. He really enjoyed his trip and provided us with some new clues and information we did not have previously about the history and the way they went to the lost parts of the cave. He was checking out a lot of passages and small crawlways and was surprisingly spry for his age!
Down the wormhole...
#2 Is This Real Life?
Friend of OTS Michael sends more youtuberyâ?¦
I didn't feel aaaaanything.......
#3 Le Grand Content
Amy, wife of Friend of OTS Michael also writes in with youtuberyâ?¦
this made me chuckle -
03:58 of things i could never have articulated:
#4 Welcome to the Velodrome
Forwarded by OTS Insider Topsâ?¦
Hi Peak Fitness Racing,
My name is Brian Gibbs. I am a former National Team track racer living in San Antonio. It has been a goal of mine to bring a velodrome to San Antonio for several years. I now have an outline on how one might be brought to the areaâ?¦
If you would, please fill out the "petition" at SA-Velo.orgâ?¦
Again, we are in a preliminary research phase. I know there has been interest in the past. My goal is to determine if that interest still exists.
All the best, Brian
Zombies, Drive-Ins, Copper Wire, and Some Dillweed Named Pony
Some character preaching/ranting from the steps.
Another Last Friday in front of the Alamo at 9pm, another experiment with benevolent libertarianism experienced through bicycles — also known as Downtown Highlife.
The Winter months bring out less people so there is an opportunity to go to different locations. As has become tradition for December or January, we headed down to the Southside to experience the fallen majesty of the Mission Drive In.
It's odd that in taking a path that's almost completely straight, people find ways to get lost. It's as if people feel the need to turn and find variety. The route back was even worse. Even though we were going only north on Roosevelt, everyone was completely separated and disconnected.
Perhaps it's because of the existential void that is felt at the Drive In. Tumbleweeds and broken glass and wide screen vistas in pitch black.
But back to the beginning. It all started innocentâ?¦
A collection of goofballs waiting outside the Alamo. A few wrong turns but it began smoothly enough. And then finally at the destination, it seemed as if a horde of zombies had torn through the place.
Pony, in gold lettering. A reference to the Outsiders?
And in particular, some dillweed named Pony had his moniker all over the place. Was Pony the one who ripped all the copper wiring out from the walls? And if so, was that even a bad thing? Theft vs. recycling: a debate for another time.
Or perhaps Pony is a sad comment on lost youth and a birthday gift that was never given. And now, he's taken revenge on SA...
Flash forward to a flat tire on Roosevelt and Steves. Everyone taking over the right hand lane. An odd spectacle, yet the cars seemed to deal with it. After that everyone got pulled in different vectors — some on Broadway, some at San Pedro Park, all looking for a party on Howard at a place called the Farm.
Is this a turning point...for something?
And then turning around 180 degrees, full frontal phallic. Don't blame me, talk to the zoning commission.
On the other side by the fountain behind a a sheet of windows is a new coffee shop called the Java Nook. Like clockwork, another caffeinated wave...
A Return to St. Hedwig Club
Heading east on Houston Street...
I called a friend who actually lives out in St. Hedwig to see if he wanted to join our small group making our way out to the St. Hedwig Club on Saturday night (to claify, by car.) He seemed to think we would all get our ass kicked by Polish cowboys, or if not that, then cold stares and shoulders.
It was Deliverance all over again, though this time not a parable for the Vietnam War. Instead, simply, a random road trip.
I brought out a copy of the Current article about SHC for Dutch the owner as a way to smooth things over, which worked well enough. He even bought us all beer.
And yet, right above the urinal, a Slayer fan leaves a trace, at a Polish cowboy bar of all places.
A revolving door of Polish cowboys came and went while the Spurs game played. And then, some Candian guy named Aaron came in who said he used to be in some popular rock band called the 9ines, who evidently, had a hit song on an episode of Dawson's Creek. We went from fish out of water hipsters to not hip enough, quickly. Things were cosmopolitan, but with a small “c”.
Dutch had to close the bar in the middle of the 3rd quarter at 9pm so he could get some rest for church the next day. We ended up at Big Lou's Pizzeria on S. W.W. White Road to finish the game. And as we left, we noticed a large gathering of muscle cars outside Chatman's Chicken, which seemed to be a favorite with the locals. Even though it was inside SA limits, the area, like most in San Antonio, seems like it's own distinct universe, divorced from the rest (though there are common binds that connect us all — the Spurs, that stupid song by Alice in Chains about a rooster, diabetes...)
And so goes another week on the streets of San Antonio. As always, to be continued...