by Sandra Beckmeier

Sitting on the Curb

Greetings and salutations "From the Couch." First chants first. I wanted to clarify the definition of this column because of comments from someone who gratefully read the last one but didn't understand my use of the sofa as a platform for art. So for the sake of clarification, "From the Couch" has nothing to do with having sex or watching television. Let your imagination go crazy if it needs to, but my intention here is to call upon diversity, unlike most network programming or what we know as traditional heterosexual encounters.

A disclaimer for racking the networks: my opinion does not include The Simpsons, Beavis and Butthead, or Seinfeld. These shows not only entertain me, but make life bearable while dealing with a yet to be determined angst that surrounds much of what this column addresses -- which is usually what the media, generally speaking, would rather forget.

If you've ever spent time wondering aimlessly around heavily populated urban areas you've already experienced the vibe that is the lifeline of street culture. After living in New York City, I doubt there is another that compares to the deep density and heat that melts inhibitions like the vibe in the Big Apple. Austin has its own thang, but sadly wears a veil of liberalism, and IH-35 still segregates "us" from "them." Recently however, people have started to talk about the separation more openly. Sometime in the future people will be less inhibited to cross-over because of the plans brewing to give the East Side a face-lift. But is this superficial action or will the newfound wealth that is generated be spread evenly so everyone can benefit? Time will tell the whole truth, it always does.

Multi-culturalism is here! Multi-culturalism is here!

I dig downtown, but Sixth Street bores me during the day. South Congress has a lot in the way of coolness happenin', as does the flightpath area. The bohemia of it all would make any thrift-shopping coffee-hound like myself quite thrilled to be alive. Plunging deeper into the observation I land in the area of Austin where I feel more at home. Starting south of the river all the way to Fiesta on 38th is culture -- in many flavors. Everything is naturally cohesive at the landmark grocery store, for it's about buying milk and living closely on the dairy isle. It doesn't matter what kind of milk is purchased, because it all taste essentially the same.

For a great excuse to get sleep deprivation on purpose, check out the Victory Grill on E. 11th Street -- and yank-in some energy from a traditional late night jazz jam. You'll also find the Kovak Theater at the Victory, and down the street is the delicate East of Eden Culture Cafe. Eve looks like she's been there, and left no signs of wrong-doing. Quite the opposite, and if you peek inside the hand-painted window it's easy to imagine what closeness feels like while experiencing a performance in the space.

If you like lots of funkiness like I do, there's lots of it splattered in splendor along Manor Road. Cafe Armageddon, The Manor Road Coffee House, Candy Factory, and the Planet Theatre are all within walking distance. It's food for the art-starved, a condom for the curious, and the people who hang-out there are friendly.

"I fear the unfamiliar." -- Marge Simpson

I know a few people who live or lived in the ghetto. I have a friend who lives on the street everyday. Her name is Dee, and she is the most giving person I've ever known. She is kind and compassionate, deep and understanding -- she can see straight through what has traditionally been my "tough" exterior. Dee lives on Congress Avenue, riding the bus during the day for a change of pace. She fondly refers to life on the street as living outdoors, and always wears a smile when I see her. She is unique with her pattern of living, and is one of the most focused people I've ever met in my life.

Last Thanksgiving I wasn't invited home. Instead I decided to spend it with Dee, who reminded me of the difference economics can make for people, unlike her, who are forced to live outside. I felt shattered by the back-turn of my empty family, but Dee reminded me of what it's all about -- that I could have invited myself, and at least I was sitting with her eating something.

The streets are a far cry from where I grew up, or "bringing up baby" in suburbia. Someone once suggested a poor life is a boring one, but Dee taught me life is what you choose to make it. Beautiful or hopeless, light combined with darkness, taking opportunity or riding on top of chance. Suburbia is not exactly a picnic in an amusement park, but by growing up in middle America, at least there are more options.

There is nothing superficial about the ghetto or life on the street. It's reality in purest form, and Austin shaman/artist Ariel once suggested that "people who live in the ghetto are empowered because they haven't been castrated by capitalists or fascism."

Deep

There are so many distractions that can pull us away from who we really are, or aspire to be. As a young girl my dreams were about boyfriends, cheerleading, and looking pretty at school. It was all that was expected of me, and the only dreams I had. But boyfriends turned to memories, I never really cared about doing one of those herkie-jumps the right way, and make-up always made me look much different than I really am.

In the ghetto however, there is a subtle form of power that everyone can benefit from, and it's not greedy or selfish. This power Ariel spoke of comes from the pull that wears the need to survive-and survival of anything you didn't ask for is a beautiful thing. Read something by Victor Frankl and you'll know what I'm talking about.