Guest blogger Tom Brosseau tries to write a short story every day. He’s playing the Largo on March 20 with David Garza.

I took a drive. I stayed on Lavaca. There were some folks gathered around an ice cream stand. That’s something I haven’t had in a while. I pulled into the lot. I waited in line. I was far from downtown, but still close to the music. I ordered a Neapolitan. I made friends with a couple students from the university. The girl had a red nose from being in the sun and the guy was wearing a Texas Longhorns shirt. They were fans of Saul Williams.

I played a CD somebody made for me. “These are bands I think you’ll love!” The first song was by Ana Egge. I took Martin Luther King Boulevard to Lamar, which brought me past Duncan Park. The grass is starting to turn green, most of the trees are bare, but it sure feels like summertime. I don’t have any set direction.

I ran the AC on low. The sunroof was open. I learned a trick — if you open the sunroof and roll down one of the back windows, it pulls air into the car. I have not removed my sunglasses since I arrived. I have crossed the train tracks. I feel like I am in another state. The scenery couldn’t be prettier. I am at Town Lake Metropolitan Park.

I bought a postcard. The front is a picture of Will Rogers, Oklahoma’s favorite son, sitting on a bench, smiling, holding a rope. He was a skilled roper, skilled enough to be in the Guinness Book of World Records. Will had Cherokee heritage. He died in a plane crash in Alaska. I have not addressed the postcard.

I have seen so many of the Yaris cars, all of them fuel-efficient Toyotas. At the 2007 SXSW, I had my picture taken with one of the gals from Yaris. She was very photogenic. She had a T-shirt that said “Ask Yaris.” She gave me a book, “Perfect From Now On” by John Sellers.

I drove by the house where writer O. Henry (William Sydney Porter) used to live, which is now a museum. It’s pretty plain looking, really, a little Queen Anne with the shutters closed. It looks a little lonesome. There’s a black lamp post in the front yard. One of my favorite O. Henry quotes is “Hospitality in the prairie country is not limited. Even if your enemy passes your way, you must feed him before you shoot him.”

I stopped into Waterloo records. I wanted to know if they had any T-shirts. I bought one. I also bought a white book tote. I found the new Film School record, “Hideout.” If I had my choice, I would play like Film School. I don’t, though, and there’s only one Film School.

Mary sent me a text: r u hungry? wan 2 gt sum food? Mony V. gave me a few recommendations. I met Mary at Woodlands.

“Jones, over here,” I waved.
“I made it!” she said. “My feet!”
“Lotta walking, huh?”
“You betcha! I had to buy Band-Aids for the blisters. I’m not complaining, though! It just feels good to sit down.”
“I was looking at the menu. The special is the pan-seared halibut.”

The waitress came over with some water, buns and butter.

“What can I start you off with?” she asked.
“I’ll have a Topo Chico,” I said.
“I’ll have a white wine,” Mary said.

It is dark. I’ve not packed for Los Angeles.

“When do you leave San Antonio?”
“The flight’s at 7 a.m.”
“Tommy!”
“It’s OK. I’m glad. I like the drive! It’s not even 100 miles.”
“When do you leave for San Antonio?”
“I’ll leave around 4 a.m.”

We were seated by the window. I watched the people for a bit. Mary ordered the special. I ordered the braised chicken. There was a mosaic on the wall. It looked like two monks walking in the thicket.

“It was good to finally meet Carrie Schupper!” Mary said.
“I’m glad she came to the show. I just signed up to the Gen Art newsletter.”
“Haven’t you already done that?”

The food arrived and I wasn’t much for talking, I was so damn hungry. Mary and I said goodbye. She’s on a plane heading back to Chicago. I don’t think she’s missed a SXSW yet. She’s a well-organized lady, has a compartment for everything. She carries around a little black Moleskin, always taking down notes.

I set the alarm and readied everything. I turned off the light, but kept the ceiling fan going. Leaves rustled a little in the night and I heard a couple cats fighting. I wonder if it was my downtown friend with the thumbs, the boxer?

I shut my eyes, but couldn’t sleep. I imagined the ceiling fan was a propeller. I took out a little penlight and tried reading. I brought with me “Mystery and Manners” by Flannery O’Connor. The first story is called “The King of Birds.” It’s about peacocks. I have read everything by Flannery and I’m writing my next record around her.

I have a song stuck in my head. It’s on repeat, not the entire song, just a phrase. I think this is a disease. It always happens to me. My Grandpa Dean always had songs stuck in his head. Some songs are so simple! Hell, let it play! Let it crowd my mind, I don’t care.

“Here in the dark, watching the screen
The curtain falls, the final scene
And we go doot, doot, doot.”

– Tom Brosseau

Photo by Kelly McClean