I miss Shiner Bock. I miss Austin circa 1988. The heat and humidity of the summer nights sitting with us out on the front porch of Bianca’s house just east of the drag as I gulped my first Shiner Bock. The cock-ca-roaches squirreling around the miss-key-toes under the buzzing glow of lighting-bugs. Captain Quacks still existed, and Einstein’s jammed out “pew-pew”‘s and gobbled up our quarters.
I miss the mornings of sitting on top of the shelter at Mount Bonnell watching the sunrise and hearing you explain why somethings, like the morning licking the honeysuckles, smell so good.
Damn I miss those days.