A Late Night Drink In The Big City

A rarity for me is closing a bar at 2 am on a Monday night. It’s just one stiff scotch on the rocks and a Jukebox playing all the right tunes while relating well in conversation with a buddy. The light is low and the crowd thin. The woman working the bar, well into middle age, is friendly, welcoming, and in no rush to close. Low light mixed with Victorian décor appropriate for the somewhat well maintained historical building provides a setting one might find in the imagination of Tom Waits or a Hollywood set designer. At least that’s how it appears after midnight.

There’s a peaceful calm in the late night hours of downtown. The hectic vibe of city traffic, people rushing to beat deadlines, and meter maids just doing their job is nowhere to be found. The games have been played and it makes no difference whether or not the home team won or lost. The air is clear but heavy with humidity. A streetlight reflecting off rapidly passing low clouds with a moon glow background creates a dreamy affect. I feel a nice calm enhanced by the right amount of alcohol. I sense no distraction as time passes in an arrested moment that I’d like to hold onto.

At some point creativity makes an appearance. A witty comment, a funny story, a silly expression, and I’m comedian in the eyes of a friend and a bartender. After a pause, a good idea appears and I nod, commenting to myself, “Yes, that’s what I’ll do!” But really it’s a non committal, “I’ll think about it”. An interesting looking woman bathed in shadowy light gets my attention. I entertain the thought of introducing a hello but I think, “There must be a problem?” What is a woman doing alone in a bar past 1 am by herself on a Monday night”. I avoid making any kind of contact and save myself from certain doom. I mean really, I never go to bars to meet women.

An older elderly sort of lady appears and I receive an introduction. She’s the owner and lives in an apartment above with a garden like balcony that looks like it belongs in the French Quarter of New Orleans. I bid a compliment and she thanks me with a smile.

It really is late. Conversation is tempered with laughs as we talk of triumphs and missed opportunities lost to a rash decision or savvy competitor. Of course the topic of a woman’s mysterious behavior always enters the conversation at some point. A guy just wants to enjoy a drink with friends but when a woman says she’s, “Fine”, you know there’s a problem. Laughs follow and the thought of another drink is struck out by the sound of closing time.

Morning comes too soon for someone who can’t sleep late. I think to myself, “I really ought not stay out to 3 am”. It’s out of character for me. I don’t feel too well but it’s nothing a greasy lunch won’t cure. I think, “Honestly, I don’t need to drink. It’s a waste of time and money.” Oh well, I guess it’s a shame I had a good time.

Kind Of Like A Tibetan Thangka

Since my last post I’ve shaken a pesky cold and am on the up and up. Neon therapy at the Tall Texan, late night drinks at Warrens, and a party with friends at the Modern has made for a busy social week. The edges are smoother and the bumps in the road don’t seem so bad as I made an appointment to replace a CV boot, a couple of bushings, and rotate the tires. There are hold ups and pit stops along the avenues of our decisions but in the end I don’t mind walking when I can’t find a nearby parking space.

The piles of stuff that surround me in my single room studio garage apartment are being thinned out. A box shipped to Europe, Chile, somewhere in Nebraska and beyond. A trip to a consignment store, a donation or two to charity, and a sale on Craigslist to young hipsters that love the cool retro look.

Stacks of vinyl with grooves spiraling to a center point silently contain the rhythm and moods of another person’s art that’s taking up too much of my living space. With needle set upon vinyl I watch its journey to the center point only to be cut off by the dead wax and forced to retreat back to start all over again. Kind of like a Tibetan circle of life thangka. I suddenly feel the urge to travel again.

An Afternoon Note

It’s been a year or so since I’ve fallen ill with anything but the last week has hit me pretty hard with a pesky cold. I think all of the running around for work coupled with a dose of burnout got me down. I really am tired of my current situation even though I really have nothing to complain about. I just need a change. The kind of change I’ve mentioned and have been intending to make over the last 3 years or so. I’m just not sure how to go about it.

With no real plan or direction I figure I’ll be on my way to somewhere in a two or three weeks. That’s the plan. Between now and then I’ll tend to car maintenance, dentist, bills, etc. etc……

At this moment I’m sitting at Antidote with a stuffy head and a shot of caffeine. A woman just sat down across from me in a low cut dress with “Feminist” tattooed across her chest. I have a hard time understanding the tattoo culture. I guess if a person is certain they are always going to think the same and never change then a tattoo is probably ok.

I’d say a bit a travel, especially some hiking/walking, would be good for me right now. But just for a little while. I’m considering the idea of a change in my approach towards the way I make a living. My current method isn’t really getting me anywhere beyond the parameters of what I’ve already done/accomplished. My approach is carefree but kind of limiting in certain regards. I swing from one extreme to another in what has become a predictable fashion.

Aside of a two month stint at a Nordic Center in upstate New York I have not worked for anyone but myself since the summer of 2004. Hard to believe it’s been 8 years already! The crux for me is that I don’t want a Mon-Fri 9-5 with a 2 week vacation. I think a steady predictable routine would drive me nutz. I’m also not too crazy about working for anyone else.

All said, I’ll probably hop a plane overseas and put off making any real decisions for the time being. That’s generally the pattern I enjoy falling back into. I always feel like I'm moving forward when I'm out and about but eventually I find myself returning back to where I started. It's the picking up where I left off that's getting me nowhere.