... as "country" and have no old-fashioned mannerisms or accent. With my co-workers I feel as out of place as if I am from a different country, and my silence and discomfort, I think, speaks more for my differences than anything. This is a disease not many ought to catch. Now that I am here, I know I can't be content without seeing my beloved Rasputina et al. every few months, without the Indian food I have come to crave, and my choice of coffee houses and libraries every day, but I will never really be happy here. Sometimes I hate the city, but let me specify: Dallas. New Orleans is still Mecca, and Houston is somehow like New Orleans to me, but Dallas is a cold-hearted, titanium-covered city. One apparently antiquated quality of mine is to be considerate to others. I am practically indecent and impolite compared to my predecessors. I naively compare this city to NYC for its rudeness, though I am sure I could never survive there for one day. Why, with all of this, I am ...
Tonight is the night of the vampire.