i wonder if anybody thinks of me as the “soul of atomic tattoo”?
i doubt it…but it’s nice to think there might be at least one?
i mention it because of the hill country humidor, one of many of my san marcos haunts, and paper bear, another one of em. paper bear closes soon – i believe in march. i’ve shopped there since high school. shit, even as i type this i have two pendents hanging from my neck on sterling bead chains from there. the ufc has several pieces of jewelry from there, and several toys as well.
i think of the store fondly, but to me it had it’s own soul. the store was an organism. i thought of sundance records the same way – the soul of the organism that was sundance record was bigger than me or any other person that worked there, including the owner. when he moved away and left it to greg to run it was still sundance. even when i walked in and some twenty-something hipster working there called me “sir” unaware that i was former crew and had been shopping there since before they were born, it was still sundance. and when it closed and super fly sounds, another record store, opened in it’s place i was somewhat happy to see it was still a record store…but it wasn’t sundance. and san marcos knew this. and so now it’s gone after only around three years. sundance was in that spot for twenty-five years, and ten more prior on the square a couple doors down from where the hill country humidor is now.
the humidor is a place that, minus its “dad”, just isn’t the same, like freewheelin’ or sean patrick’s. when i was in high school a lot of my bike parts were ordered from trend bike source in austin, texas…but almost as many came from freewheelin’ in san marcos. and when al, the owner, passed and they tried to keep it going it wasn’t the same. the heart was gone. and soon it withered and went. i think it’s a boutique now.
likewise, the hill country humidor, last time i checked, was still there. but rob, the owner, who got me started on proper cigars back in 1992, is gone. his wife still owns it. other people still run it. but the guitars, and bikes, and more importantly, the man himself, are dead and gone. and without it’s soul it holds no magic for me. i smoked in there with my friend jennifer and it was cool to spend time with her but we might as well have been on a bench on the courthouse lawn. i haven’t been back in since, although i could honestly stand to change that.
on a smaller scale, the irish pub sean patrick’s is now neither owned by “sean” or “patrick” (they were real people, for all curious). shit, at least one of them would usually sit at me and shane’s table to watch ufc shit back when. but now they’re gone, as are we, and when i walk back in it just feels…stale. although, after seeing that red brick building boarded up with sky blue plywood all by childhood and adolescence, it is nice to see it still there, even if it holds no weight with me really any more. it did give me my friends ruth & kristen, so i can’t really bitch.
but with paper bear leaving all i really have left in that area is the taproom, and the punch card i started when i was unemployed in 2009 that has yet to be filled. once it is? we’ll see if i don’t just leave the square to the college kids and finally move on,