A jumble in time.
Wandering out of my cave at night like a stray cat, possum, or raccoon I am liking it. Last night we went to a local pub with an open bar. The Local Peasant – Woodland Hills Restaurant & Bar. It was open to the street and lots of fresh air. We were on a mission to find a pint of Newcastle beer. Yet all the pubs we visited once a few years ago, no longer carry it, or Bass for that matter. So, we settled to an Irish Mule, an Irish Stout and a Hefeweizen beer. All from microbreweries that have taken over the beer scene. Youngest son got the best darn cheese sandwich on sourdough bread I ever witnessed in my life. I try not to eat past 6 PM due to a nasty esophagus. Yet I was tempted. Then something rumbled in my heart and brain that reminded me of something. I was back in New York hanging with the band Detox. Maybe since Human’s death and talking to Tony Malone I am still grieving the guy and a scene that I just loved through and through.
One nice thing about documenting a scene is what is there to affirm memories. I like that best.
During the day it was so hot, and the subway shook the building where we were staying like a California earthquake. At night on top of the building we watched the businesses close down and open up again modern-day-speakeasies. The limousines drove up and out walked the rich old men and their tall, gorgeous models. It was a shocker but right before our eyes.
From Flipside Fanzine # 47. A Washington D.C. Special with Ink Disease and Flipside.