An Open Letter

Dear I Love You So Much Wall,

Hey, dude. I love you back. So much. This is why I had to write this letter. I appreciate you as a reminder of why I loved this city so much when I moved here. It’s random acts like this that make Austin so fun to live in. Often, Austinites, absorb anonymous acts of creativity as their own, openly, and with great enthusiasm. To be honest, the bro side of me was initially like, “That’s so lame. Ha. You love dick so much.” But, that’s not really me, man. That’s not me. I really think this is awesome. 

Unfortunately, your location near the popular Austin tourist locations on South Congress Avenue transformed you into, my fair wall friend, a hot spot for yuppie out-of-town and local yuppies to take their photos. Something like this shouldn’t bother me. Hell, people take tons of pictures in front of that frog thing Daniel Johnston painted on Guadalupe. They take loads of photos at Mount Bonnell or Downtown in the early mornings. Austin is a photogenic town. For some reason, I feel really uneasy when I watch people run up to to you and ask strangers to take their picture or when I see people taking couples’ photos in front of you.

Does that not bother you? That everyone else has taken their picture there? You literally say the same thing every time. Everyone’s picture reads “I love you so much.” Everyone knows what you are and where you are. Perhaps, I find it lazy, and I don’t like lazy when it comes to things as important as couples’ photos. I get frustrated with the lack of creativity in people, and as I watch giddy individuals and groups gather at this wall, I watch a little bit of you, my dear friend, die. A piece of you is taken every time a member of the roaming hoard of Texan yuppies comes to South Congress to inject a bit of bohemian kitsch into their dull lives.

People like me, who actually frequent the area because I live here, have to watch something that I would have liked to have done with my future wife and you become less and less important. The whims of a sweet, artistic soul that created you are now just another cultural commodity that this city offers that is getting sopped up by the tasteless, cultureless dinner roll that are groups of Texan yuppies.

I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for the people that work at Jo’s that have to share a wall with you and have to put up with questions about you. I sometimes feel bad for this city. It’s too nice for its own good. 

I should just get over it. 




2400 S. Congress Ave. Austin, TX 78704

There are few places that draw so much simultaneous love and hate in South Austin than the H-E-B on Oltorf and S. Congress.  The place is fantastic! It’s a colorful place where homeless people, hipsters, blipsters, the upper-middle class yearning to be poor and normies can consume the vast selection that our American way of life affords us.  From the shaky man in the parking lot asking for change to the over-make-up’d cosmetics department lady, this H-E-B is a big part of my life.  From week-to-week, I joyfully make the half-mile drive to it like [insert movie reference here].  I get in and get out relatively quickly.  I spend anywhere from $30 to $45 and I’m set for the week.  (That’s what she said to the last two sentences. HEYO!)

However, the practice of dragging ass through the same H-E-B for the past five years, past the produce, past the butcher, past the hired Asian actors that pretend to cut sushi, past the out-of-place beer and wine aisle, gets boring.  Every time I go back, I am resolute in saying, “I will not COME BACK!”  But, like a fool, I do.  No matter how inconvenient that death-trap of a parking lot is.  No matter how many times I run over a runaway Mexican kid.  No matter how many times I realize that the cart bays are in the most inconvenient places.  I ALWAYS GO BACK.  It’s the familiarity.  I tried the Wal-Mart around here once, and I almost threw up.  It was too sterile.  I need danger.  H-E-B offers me that danger.

I know I can head to other places and get exactly what I need.  I know that they are cleaner, offer more amenities and probably offer a higher hawttie-to-dewd ratio than this H-E-B can.  It is overrun by families and old people.  But, where’s the fun in that?  Does Central Market have COLA CHAMPAN?! The greatest beverage known to man! NO! IT DOES NOT!

The whole purpose for this is post is to proclaim that I found the most perfect parking spot in their lot.  It was one of those spots that lies right in front of the exit and sits directly beside the handicapped spot.  I almost took a picture, but I’m sure I would have been hit by a car if I didn’t keep my head on a swivel.

This was the reason H-E-B gave me to come back today.  Next time, will I get that spot?!?!  This one beautiful experience outweighs the awful ones by a lot.

The leftover and marked down Valentine’s balloons were a sight.

The fact that I could buy Heineken and Muesli at the same store without really putting any thought into how stupid that combination sounds is GRAND!

Even though I almost killed a tyke in the parking lot, it was a great experience.  Great experiences keep you in situations that are all together not that great for you.  They also set you up for the next great let-down.

To being let down,