Yeesh. I am so, so, so off my axis. I started writing late but, once I started, I was so motivated…too motivated that I wrote too much and quit once I crashed. I decided to just wait until this week to send something — or never again!

This newsletter is a part of me, but I’ve been feeling distant from this part lately. Am I writing for me or for you? Does it matter? What does it look like when one outweighs the other? Usually my travel entries are my favorite to write because they feel like they are the most for me; they’re diaries I can look back on.

That being said, I am a talker. I love to include every cup of coffee, every memorable person on the street. I fill my schedule so tightly that I forget so much, so this is my opportunity to protect my memories. I get so excited to write these then get mad at myself for writing them at their fullest. As a former journalist still editing news stuff, I kill darlings every day. I love chopping up stories and trimming their fat. Since this newsletter isn’t journalism and is all about me, I get to set my own rules, which usually means not editing my work or leaving details out.

If this is to remain as true of a look at me as I can on the searchable internet, I’ll have to show my true process. I don’t want to get back to my verboseness right now. The entry you’re about to read I wrote in the middle of last week. It’s the first night and day of my trip to Austin. I realized I was over 4,500 words in about a period of less than 24 hours — and I hadn’t even written the Current Fixations. I’m going to send another entry soon after this one that will go through the rest of my trip (preferably also this day! But alas, pickleball calls). Today is Sunday, but you’ll be reading this on Monday when I schedule it for you.

It’s been a while since a delayed entry! My excuses:

I hope an obnoxious travel diary can make up for my delay. Even worse — I type so many words that I have to divide this into two parts. You’ll get part 2 next week. Going to elongate this one because there are no rules! It really doesn’t need to be this wordy, but this is my truth so I’m gonna follow the road.

Horny Jewish youth group summer camp was one of the biggest world-expanding experiences of my life. The first time I flew alone was to my first year of BBYO camp right after freshman year of high school. I printed out a map of O’Hare airport so I could navigate my transfer properly. This was a leadership camp for kids in the youth group all over the country, and I didn’t know anyone.

I arrived at the Milwaukee airport and passed by some cheesehead hats before finding the room where all of the kids I would soon meet were all mingling. All of them had at least one friend from their home region as a social buffer, and some of them had whole gaggles. I would have been more nervous if I didn’t have anything to lose. I had spent an unsuccessful summer in therapy for the first time talking about how unmotivated and uninspired I was. I was looking for a reset.

When I arrived in the room, I picked a wide circle of the girls that looked the nicest and sat down with them. They all already knew each other from home. I introduced myself and passed around a bag of pull-n-peel Twizzlers as a peace offering.

I used to return to that moment a lot in my mind because it was one of the first adult things I’d ever done: plop myself somewhere fully new and make it work. These girls and a slew of other Jewish teens ended up becoming some of my closest high school friends.

I gained five important qualities during these two weeks in rural Wisconsin:

Key knowledge isn’t population size or key issues, it’s knowing what DMV means aside from where you get your license — or to ask a Michigander where they’re from on the mitten. It’s remembering to include central when asking someone what part of New Jersey they’re from so they’ll smile if they’re from central Jersey. I am probably why all of these kids know that Pittsburgh is actually quite far from Philly.

I kept in touch on the phone and by going to other affiliated Jewish leadership camps. I did pretty much nothing in the youth group and just did it to hang with my friends while meeting new ones. My worldview expanded as the camps got bigger. California became a fleshed-out, diverse place in my mind instead of just Hollywood. I learned that the bitchiest Jewish girls are from Long Island, specifically the Gold Coast.

And then there was Texas. Did you know there are a lot of Jews there? Many of the ones I met went to this Jewish day school in Houston, but there lots of others, too. Like the other Southern Jews I met, they wore oversized t-shirts with possibly a hint of shorts peeking out. They would pose with a hook ‘em horns hand signal in pictures, and we would all imitate them. My freshman year of college I reflexively put my hand into a horn every time I met someone from Texas.

I didn’t know there were people beyond cowboys and Christians there. I ended up becoming extremely close friends with Hannah, who lived in Houston at the time. We would FaceTime constantly, and I love her dearly to this day (she was at the first Father’s Day Top-to-Bottom walk). I remember I would tell my friends at school that one of my best friends was from Texas, which puzzled them. It feels so far away — in all ways — from my Northeastern bubble, but camp taught me how most of us are pretty much the same wherever you go.

My last youth group thing senior year was a convention in Dallas. Hannah was my roommate, and we were two of hundreds of Jewish teens swarming a hotel for a weekend, not allowed out aside from an excursion (I went to the Fort Worth stockyards for my first-ever Texas BBQ). I didn’t get to experience much of Dallas, but I was not impressed by its bleakness and corporateness.

I didn’t have much interest in returning to Texas until I lived in New Hampshire. First, living somewhere you hate and turning it into somewhere you love means that you can find joy anywhere. Second, Granite Staters dress, act, and listen to music like they’re from the South. I was more interested in the real deal.

I’ve wanted to go to Houston and Austin (and Marfa — I need to understand) to eat and take in the culture without too much conservatism. Houston became interesting to me because of Hannah and Megan Thee Stallion. Austin is interesting because it’s one of the Lost Cities.

My term for places in which wayward young people to find themselves, usually after college, and make the whole city their personality (while also draining personality from the city). It’s not just cities that people move to after graduating (Boston, San Francisco); it’s places that attract people with romantic, protagonistic goals. Here are my (unordered) top six:

If you are a reality TV watcher and haven’t seen the first-and-only season of Twentysomethings: Austin on Netflix, I highly recommend watching this Real World-esque show about 8 twentysomethings moving to Austin to achieve whatever goals they have. If you’re a real reality head, you’d know Abbey from her date with Francesca Farago on Perfect Match or Michael from that new virgin dating show on Hulu hosted by one of my fave Bachelorettes and least-favorite Bachelors. If you love looking at beautiful people, just watch so you can see Isha.

Seeing Austin through the eyes of fellow insufferables and watching people work remotely at Barton Springs Pool intrigued me. As Austin struggles to keep itself weird while transplants pile in, I knew that I would have a lot of fun there. That being said, I’ve had a lot of other cities higher on my bucket list.

One of the many reasons I love my friend Noor is her spontaneity. Her and I feed off of each other; she is (within reason) always down to get out of the house, to dance to one last song. She is one of the best friends I’ve made since moving here, and she brings so much vibrance to my life. Whether we are out on the town or cooped up on our laptops, she and I value fun above almost all else.

Her lust for life lines up with her very cool music biz job. She’s in the midst of festival season and usually has a cold side of a hotel king bed that she would prefer be filled by someone fun. When Noor asked me if I wanted to book a flight to Austin to join her at Austin City Limits, it was a no-brainer.

The skinny: ACL is a two-weekend music festival in the middle of Austin’s version of Central Park. Noor would spend the first weekend with her girlfriend, Leilah, staying in an Airbnb from then until the day before the festival when she’d mozy on over to a hotel downtown. Lei and I would be two ships passing in the night, her leaving earlier Monday before I arrive after midnight. Noor and I planned on working remotely for until Friday, when I’d take a day off and she would lock in for the start of the festival.

I’d never been to Austin and never been to a music festival aside from a day of Gov Ball last year. I usually don’t like most lineups and cannot imagine camping out for three days; it would have to be a festival in a city like Lollapalooza or ACL. Since I would be staying with Noor and getting a free VIP pass, I would be stupid to pass up this opportunity.

I’ve been on a series of unreal feelings recently, by unreal I mean not rooted in reality. I’ve done a lot of weekend tripping, big days, and out-of-town friend hosting. I feel far from my routines and can’t figure out when I’ll be available to get back on them. I overbooked myself just like I did last year and the year before that, burning myself out before winter. A fraction of me was worried that I would be straying even further from myself by taking a weeklong trip that includes something as intense as a music festival, but my prohibition from making plans with others for a week made this seem like it could be relaxing.

All this go-go-go has left me exhausted, unmotivated, and uninspired. Every day is a great day, but I look back on my week and remember very little, which yields a looming emptiness. I feel like a new person every week, which has its perks but doesn’t ground me. I am feeling a little off my axis, so where better to go than a Lost City so I can find my way back home to myself?

My flight was around 9 p.m., the perfect time that I can sleep soundly the night before and I don’t have to take time off of work. I slowly packed over the course of the workday, leaving the house around 6:30. I took public transit there: L to A to AirTrain.

I cannot express how lonely this journey felt. I was pretty fine all day alone like I am most days, but something about the darkness setting in so soon made me feel so small. I never think of myself as someone that struggles to be alone and never think it’s something to be embarrassed of. That being said, I am constantly surrounded by others. I need alone time and relish in it, but I don’t really even know what alone is anymore after living with someone for so long. I have lots of time alone during the week, but I have been going to bed with the same person almost every night for five years.

The long journey in the dark to the airport alone felt like quicksand. I don’t even remember it that much anymore; I just felt deep melancholy. I wasn’t particularly missing anyone but then hit me that I really missed my family. As if on cue, Ben called me to say hi while I was on the train. I couldn’t talk to him, but he called me at the right time to make my night feel lighter. I guess even though I am lacking routines lately, being alone at night was a change in my routine that felt way starker than it actually was. I felt like a lot was riding on this trip now — I was was about to potentially spend a lot of alone time in a new place that may or may not suck, away from my support system. I’ve cherished many solo train rides before, but something about this one made me feel lonely instead of alone. I felt like an unaccompanied minor on her way to Jewish camp, directionless and embarrassed to take up space. It didn’t help that I was listening to a podcaster interviewing Terry Gross about her life in the wake of her husband’s death.

Plane rides are for yearning, and you get to figure out each time if the yearning is horny or if the yearning is longing. Although I started my day thinking differently, my dark ride yielded that longing. I passed by some public art project in the terminal with people’s anonymous notes hanging on clotheslines. They were fun reads: a man forgiving his abusive dad, a couple wanting to confess their attraction to a friend, a girl writing about how nervous she was for her date that night. I chewed my Shackburger and waited forever for the water bottle-filler to fill up my water with all the might it had left.

I’ve developed a recent anxiety around flight. I haven’t always been this way, but most recent times I’ve flown I get hit with crazy turbulence — usually when I fly alone. Now, I make mountains out of bumpy molehills, and my cortisol spikes at the tiniest shake. I feel like Aviva, one of the most obnoxious Real Housewives of New York, who feared flying so much she couldn’t do it without her husband.

I stared out the window as we taxied, noticing the A train gliding along the water in the distance, lights in a row like a Ghibli film. The flight wasn’t without anxiety but also wasn’t so bad. I was cramped in my window seat and couldn’t figure out how to put my seat back for an hour (I will always defend the right to recline) only to realize I can’t because I’m in front of the exit row.

I started a playlist I called “Yeehaw feelings” as my playlist diary, adding songs that I think of during the trip that encapsulate how I’m feeling. You’ll probably laugh and roll your eyes to hear that “Headphones On” by Addison Rae started it off. I listened to music almost the whole time, working my non-downloaded playlist as long as I could before no more songs loaded and I had to switch to my downloaded oldies playlist. American has free wifi that only works to watch their movies and shows on your phone. In their large catalog, I decided to go with the Selena biopic starring Jennifer Lopez because I wanted to immerse myself in the Texas vibes (and it’s a crime that I haven’t seen it yet). I watched 15 minutes before dozing off for a bit.

I landed after four hours to an early Texas Tuesday, feeling the primal desire of a whirlwind of texts when you land from a flight. I was relieved to have made it to Austin’s sleek single terminal, empty aside from my flight comrades. I saw ads for AI and for Albuquerque. My first walk outside was all dry heat and Olivia Dean. I made it to the most poppin’ part of the airport: the rideshare pickup level. There was a man working there somewhat directing drivers but mostly going up to people waiting for their cars asking if they needed any help, which felt very southern to me.

My Lyft picked me up and took me on the first street out of the airport, the aptly named Spirit of Texas Drive. The darkness, flatness, and intersecting highways reminded me of my entry to New Orleans. My driver was playing old romantic Spanish music, and hearing Te quierooo crooning while the skyline comes into view the first time electrified me. I wish I had more adjectives to describe my feelings; I don’t feel like words are capturing the particulars. Seeing a skyline for the first time is one of the most special things, but seeing one at night is strange.

We took a bend that I would end up making multiple times during this trip, passing a banner advertising ACL: Once in a lifetime. Two times a year. My driver dropped me off in front an apartment complex that I would later learn is a few blocks from UT’s campus and across the street from a frat house. I went up my two flights and punched the door code, hoping I didn’t catch Noor asleep.

Instant comfort. Even though this is probably an apartment for off-campus seniors, some brand of its warmth reminded me of sleepovers at my Nonna’s house when I was little. It was not as bare bones as most Airbnbs are, and the bed was massive with a soft mattress. Noor was drowsy, but being together woke us both back up. We stayed up talking and laughing in bed for a few hours, almost turning around for sleep until one of us would think of something even sillier. I was so happy to be at this sleepover in a spacious bed. This week would be by far a new record for how long we’d hang out together, and I felt immediately confident that the meshing would continue.

It’s easy to wake up on vacation, even if it’s one you’re working during. Since I’ve changed time zones for the week, I was on an 8:30–5 schedule, which I liked better than my New York usual. Noor and I slowly got ready for our days and set out for a coffeeshop nearby.

Once we walked a few blocks up the hill past some more apartment buildings, the sidewalks filled with UT students. We were at one of the main campus intersections. I immediately felt silly and out of place in my outfit, something that would be normal in New York for this sweltering weather: black biker shorts, a little midriff showing, and an itty bitty crop top with a camo Dickies logo I got from my friend Nat over 5 years ago. The UT students dress like how Jewish Texans I went to camp with dress: oversized t-shirt — in a distinctly southern white way, not an appropriating 90s Black and/or cholo way — barely revealing athletic shorts beneath. Even wilder, so many people were wearing pants in 90-degree weather.

Sinking in something I already knew: northeastern U.S. youth style — both the super urban and super rural — are trying to look country. Meanwhile, people living in Austin just dress normal. Students at an internationally renowned university are obviously a separate bubble than the rest of the city, but students dress better than most adults. I’d soon learn that my style actually fits in great because half of my hot weather wardrobe is athleisure.

We settled on a cold coffeeshop called Centro and worked. I drank an iced horchata latte, which was like a Frappuccino. Noor and I started an odd schedule in which we would get a coffee in the morning and have a really late lunch around 3. I went to the bathroom before leaving, and when I left the bathroom, I saw a divot in the ground for what looked like a single deer hoof mark. It seemed unintentional. As soon as I looked up from that, I saw a girl in a full beat and anime maid costume trying to use the bathroom after me. Time to leave.

You know how most mid-tier American cities have a lot of commonalities? Breweries and faux warehouses and food trucks? If I’m going to be somewhere like that, I might as well be at one of the best ones. Austin has some of the best food truck culture in the country, so Noor and I walked past campus stores and a Church of Scientology to hit a food truck called Don Vegas. Noor got a hulking, oozing chicken quesadilla she loved while I got two tacos: chicken (fabulous) and beef (flavorless). We split a refreshing mango agua fresca. I got to reap the benefits of Noor being a drink person this week because I otherwise do not drink silly beverages during the day very often.

We walked back home to finish up work, and I was hyping up the idea of an exploratory walk after. Our building was two short blocks away from the Shoal Creek Trail, which slinks through a few miles of the city until it hits the Colorado River downtown. Noor found a picture of this huge, unsettling troll sculpture along the trail that we knew we need to find. After we finished working, Noor’s need for a nap overpowered her desire to find the troll. I had to go in her honor.

I don’t know anything better than putting headphones in and walking in urban nature somewhere new on a warm day. Getting onto the trail required some walking through open fields before approaching what apparently was a creek but just looked like dusty rocks with a flirtation of water. I followed it. With pop and reggaeton bumping through my ears, I mimicked the water, meandering through paths that kept diverging. After seeing no people for a while, I hit a well-manicured park on the trail with some couples sitting on picnic blankets and kids traversing a series of playground nets.

I crossed over a bridge, walked past a high school football stadium, and slinked down the trail as the skyscrapers in the distance grew closer. The creek started growing until it hit baby canal status and the trail got less natural, more urban. I was walking up and down dirt paths slightly above the creek, nestled next to walls with tall apartments atop them. I felt like I was in a hot, sticky capital of a country in South America or Asia but haven’t been to either to know if I’m right.

After around an hour of walking, I hit the Colorado River. I sat victorious on a bench in the shade, staring out at the river, bridges, and hotels across from me. There are always kayakers, paddleboarders, and fishing boaters on the river here. I was content with this walk climax. Parched, I sipped and scrolled for a bit until one crow hanging on the tree turned into a dozen flying around me. The crows here were my second reminder of Ghibli on the trip, something about their thinness and round, black eyes nestled in thin, yellow circles.

Noor said she was only going to sleep for an hour, and I was an hour from home. I correctly bet that she needed more sleep after festival weekend one, so I walked all the way back, too, trying to take different paths. The three animals I saw the most in Austin were all here: crows, squirrels, and dragonflies. I have never seen more dragonflies than here. I was getting quite tired but kept my spirits up by searching for the troll. I allegedly passed it earlier in the walk, so I wanted to search more intentionally on my way back.

Once I hit that park area, there were a bunch more people hanging around but especially running. The majority of people I saw in Austin were running. From what? It would be so nice to be a boy and be shirtless running in a hot city. My favorite moment: two girls that clearly know each other from school coincidentally running into each other on the trail, one on a run, the other high-fiving her as she passes. I took a new path and found the troll, even bigger and stranger in person.

I got home and woke Noor up for dinner. You can read about it under Current Fixations. We ate at a restaurant across the river and needed to kill time before our night was supposed to truly begin, even though it was a Tuesday. I followed a lesbian things to do in Austin IG account earlier and saw that there was an event at Cheer Up Charlie’s, which I gleaned was the most lesbian gay bar the city had (nowhere is as lucky as New York to have a lesbian bar, let alone, like, 5).

The party started at 10, and we had a few hours to fill. We walked to 6th Street, a bustling party street with different vibes at its different ends. To get there, we walked on one of multiple pedestrian-friendly bridges across the narrow Colorado. It was beautiful, the path lit up with lamps and the skyline close by, the moon shining at the perfect angle. There are some bridges you walk across that fill you with such an intense familiarity and nostalgia even if it’s your first time treading them. This was one of them.

We crossed into downtown Austin, walking past quiet city blocks and remembering that few places are as bustling as New York at night. That being said, I like Austin better at night than during the day. It’s cooler in temperature and vibe alike. There is neon everywhere and not in a tacky way. We hit 6th Street and start to see people.

Two of my coworkers gave me the majority of recommendations I followed during this trip. Jean says of 6th Street: 6th Street ranges from the drunk, college-heavy middle aka "dirty 6th" to a more polished west side (30s and 40s crowd) and a local-friendly east end (my pick).

We walked down the cozy west side, turning to hit a bar my friend Leah recommended called The Cat’s Pajamas. This was the rooftop bar on a block of three bars that seemed interconnected. The rooftop has fun colors, wacky furniture (swings as bar seats, jetskis to sit on, tables made of surfboards), and a big basketball arcade game. Too bad it was a Tuesday and we were some of the only people there. I can tell it’s poppin’ on a weekend, though. Noor and I swapped stories and sipped margaritas.

After a drink, we tried the bar next door called Wiggle Room. Thankfully,

This is where I stopped giving a fuck. I’m going to finish this night with a bulleted list, write my Current Fixations, and move to the next issue.

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