I returned yesterday from a visit to the enchanted realm of New Mexico. My bosses, who are also my friends and insist I refer to them as such ;), wanted me to see the new office building and to discuss some of our big current projects. They essentially pay me to be Drey and I make cool things for them, resulting in probably the best work situation I could ask for. I do regularly talk with them on the phone, but it is great to reconnect face to face a few times a year.

I had been back last December, but this time around felt a lot different. I felt like I was still in Austin and had just sent a serviceable hologram of myself on the plane. It took a few days to shake the dissonance, but I never stopped feeling like a stranger. Ghosts haunted every street corner and layers of emotional data augmented every interaction.

This has nothing to do with my friends or Albuquerque, but I just didn’t want to be there for very long. I felt like in order to fit into that realm and feel at ease I would need to morph into some old version of myself, a proposition I found horrific. Although there were major changes in the worlds of all of my friends, my version of Albuquerque remained the same.

It really is true: You can’t go home again.

This is how I spent my Saturday.

Pictures will explain what words cannot: http://www.flickr.com/photos/birzer/sets/72157604762416387/

Another cycle completes, stars spin with the sound of calendar pages, and the bats are once more beneath their bridge. The heat and humidity begin their steady encroachment upon the city, breathing at my doorstep, getting down to business a few minutes earlier each day. It is spring, so everything is tinged with an ecstatic madness, as though sex could leap from the trees, coffee cups, anywhere. All people shine with mystery. All people are generous and kind, and even their narcissism becomes a wonderful twisted mirror, scattering light.

Today I received a letter from the Texas Department of Public Safety. Inside I found a plastic card bearing my photo, my face already strange. They wanted to let me know that I live here now. Officially.

Tonight I decided to go downtown for a change. Seems like I haven’t been out and about in my fair city in quite some time. I hung out with some folks at the Ginger Man, a charming establishment with a long wall of brews. I tried the Bigfoot Ale, which I detested at first, but then grew to, well… endure.

Then I headed over to the next block to Fado, where I heard a U2 cover band was playing. For all intents and purposes, their lead singer was Bono. He looked just like him. He even had all the stage moves, engaging us in wild, rock star antics. They played mostly B-sides, but threw in some of the hits. They were very good.

All the while I was painfully aware of this sea of attractive women, all on someone’s arm or wearing a ring. I always wonder where they were before. When does that window of opportunity occur?

And then there was the waitress. She resembled Juliette from Lost, who, as some may know, is a representative of archetypal hotness  for me. The whole night, she had to squeeze past me on her way to and from the bar. It almost made me cry.

I had the most amazing BBQ last night. I heard the legends of the Salt Lick, but I had never ventured out there. The Discovering Austin Meetup group was having a get together there, so I jumped at the chance.

It’s about 40 minutes southwest of Austin, a journey I took through dark, rolling hills. The restaurant itself is sprawled across two ranch-like buildings and a large outdoor picnic area.

The Salt Lick is a BYOB establishment. Let that sink in for a moment. When was the last time you went to a restaurant and they told you to please bring all the beer you want? I came with a six-pack of Sam Adams. Jay, the Meetup organizer, had a better idea: a rolling cooler stuffed with beer.

Once we had a table, our group ordered ribs, sausage, brisket and turkey, accompanied by piles of potatoes, beans, slaw and bread. For about $10 a head. The meat was slow roasted for 8 hours, ascending into some higher state of being. It was delicious!

At long last, the new Alamo Drafthouse downtown is open! Tim League took over the old Ritz theater and completely renovated it to support the unique movie going experience that is the Alamo.

To celebrate, we got to see an advance screening of No Country for Old Men, which I will say right now is the Coen’s masterwork. And, by the way, Javier Bardem is utterly terrifying and I’d book passage to the moon if I knew his character was pursuing me.

Then Quentin Tarantino showed us some old Japanese monster movie from his collection: War of the Gargantuas. He was obviously a bit inebriated and he geeked out for quite some time before getting off the stage. He’s great.

For the first time in years I got excited about Halloween! Halloween in Austin is like Mardi Gras in NOLA. It is a huge, citywide party where all manner of debauchery and craziness ensues.

I put together this dark knight costume. No, not Batman or the kanniggit from Holy Grail. I got this chest armor, some spikey shoulder guards, these sweet skull gauntlets, and a badass 4-foot long sword. I also had this huge, matching skull shield, but it proved unwieldy to take everywhere.

I went to a fabulous party at the Enchanted Forest. Normally, this is a three-acre art space in the woods. Imagine a small Burning Man or Three-Sided Hole, but in the woods instead of the desert. But for Halloween, they transformed it into a Haunted Forest. It was BYOB, so you just show up with a cooler of beverages, pay the fee, and walk through this archway into another world.

It looked like a gigantic rave as designed by Neil Gaiman. Imagine hundreds of people in bizarre costumes, all dancing around immense trees while bands play in front of trippy projected light shows. There was a drum circle around a fire pit. There were lightsaber duels (and, briefly, lightsabers vs. a badass 4-foot long sword).  There were crazy tents where people were doing awesome improv. It was, to summarize, the best Halloween party ever.

I got home at 7AM!

Oh, and I got to make out with a beautiful woman.

One of the first things I did when I got to Austin was to sign up for interesting groups at Meetup.com. I get to meet people with similar interests and check out cool new places in Austin.

Right now I’m part of  Discovering Austin, a couple wine/coffee/singles Meetup groups, a sushi group, two Landmark groups, and two movie groups. One of the movie groups is the Alamo Drafthouse Fans, which I am an assistant organizer for. That means I get to pick movies, schedule events and get people to come to the Alamo to have a good time!

I have now visited every Alamo Drafthouse here in Austin. There were four when I arrived, but now there are only three, and in a few months there will be four again. Sadly, the original Alamo closed at the end of June. I was able to attend a few of the farewell events such as Quentin Tarantino’s Last Night at the Alamo Grindhouse as well as Half-Ass-A-Thon. Before living in Austin, I had attended Butt Numb-a-Thon twice, so I was already convinced of the Drafthouse’s awesomeness. I am sad to see the original go. But it will be reborn a few blocks away as the Alamo at the Ritz. This old movie house is being restored and updated into a state of the art theater.

For those of you who have not enjoyed the Alamo Drafthouse experience, let me describe it for you. First off, it is best to arrive at least an hour before your film begins. This is not so you can wait in line or get a good seat (though those can be factors). No, it is so that you can order your food and drink while you enjoy the pre-show. The pre-show consists of a thoughtfully edited presentation of clips relating somehow to what you are about to see. For instance, before the latest Die Hard film they showed a behind the scenes feature about the previous Die Hard movies, clips from Moonlighting and the famous Seagram’s Golden Wine Cooler commercials starring Bruce Willis (or “Bruno” as he preferred to be called).

In front of each row of seats is a sort of platform where you can place your food and tasty beverages. The food at the Alamo is prepared by actual chefs and is delicious. You cannot order a nasty greasy hamburger there, but you can definitely order a gourmet Royale with Cheese and a $5 milk shake to wash it down. There are often themed feasts to go along with movie premieres. You can also order buckets of beer. And the movie has yet to begin.

Before the trailers, you are likely to see advertisements for upcoming special events at the Alamo. They have monthly sing-a-longs, Saturday morning events for kids, a Mystery Science Theater 3000-style series, special guests, and more. They make their own “Turn off your cell phone and shut up during the movie” segments. My favorite is the cleverly-edited Star Wars clip with the Imperial officer taking a call at the meeting with Vader and Grand Moff Tarkin. “Don’t talk on your cell phone or we’ll throw your ass out.”

At this point, it almost doesn’t matter what movie you’re going to see. You’re surrounded by people who love film and you can order food and beer until halfway through the movie. The Alamo Drafthouse is the greatest movie theater in the country.

The official site: http://www.originalalamo.com/

Each day I grow more comfortable with my particular section of Austin. I know the main streets and which way to drive if I get lost. I am growing familiar with back ways and alternate routes. The traffic here is unexplainable, I-35 choked at either end by invisible bottlenecks during rush hour (though 4-7PM isn’t exactly an hour, is it?).

I owe much of my success to an intimate relationship with Google maps. As I find cool places, I add them as markers to my own personal map.

If you don’t already use Google maps, you lose 25 points. Speaking of Google, the other night I witnessed my friend Mischa call the Google hive mind on his cell phone and speak to it, gleaning a phone number. Not a mere search or text message, but a voice conversation. Those who do not fear and respect the hive mind will become the lowliest worker drones in Google’s thrall on the day It awakens.