So, the other day I'm driving back from a friend's house, crossing the highway over the greenbelt and back into the city. The friend lives in a suburb at the southernmost part of town, not far, as the crow flies, but culturally leagues away from the heart of downtown. Many of the people I work with live out there and make this daily trek in to work. These 'burbs have everything you could want, a Target, Gold's Gym. It even has some of the things you'd find in the heart of Austin, some of the things that give Austin it's unique flair -- a Torchy's Tacos tucked into the corner of a limestone strip mall, next to a Costco. There's even a walking trail that winds around a grove of cedars. But still, something is lacking, you get the feeling (or at least I do), that something just isn't quite right. For one thing, it's too clean. The limestone exteriors of the strip malls are too pristine: they aren't weathered or worn. For another, with the exception of a lone retiree shuffling along the park path, there are no pedestrians, no kamikaze cyclists fighting for their share of the road. There are no siren wails or clock tower gongs, no jolly canines with tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths as they trot alongside their jogging partners. These things are the lifeblood of a city - they are what create the unique flavor of a place.
A suburb, on the other hand, is a fake city. It has the accoutrements, the facades, but no heartbeat. It is simply a manequin, a portrait, a reproduction. Not quite the city, but no longer the country, it is a limbo between heaven and hell, and a place where I could never live. In city or country, I could be happy; in heaven or hell, I can find my place, but not out there, not in fakeland. If I did, I'd probably go back to drinking and then die an untimely death.
