Thursday, September 20, 2012

love letter 9/20/12

D forest

This week we want to send a shout out to bartender Kyle Dreas. Kyle has been with us for six years now and has been a rock, to use one metaphor, or a root, to use another, or roots rock reggae, to use yet another. Thanks, Kyle! We love and appreciate all you do.

This weekend,

No Cover Friday
5pm Josh Meyers
Watertower (bluegrass)

Useless objects (psychedelic bluegrass)
Zumba $8

Sentimental Sounds (big band). Free

Private Party

Stealth Hippo, Host Band $5

Free form yoga lead by Nicki Viera w/ live music by Melissa Ivey, Adam DeGraff and friends. Donations accepted for local charities.

Baby Boogie, bring your kids into dance!

Salsa Dancing (lesson at 8pm, Sabor de la Calle at 9pm) $8

What's that? You've been wanting to learn to salsa, but just haven't yet for whatever reason? Do it! Best time investment ever...


D flower

Extra Credit: Here's a beautiful poem by our friend Truck Darling...


Puffing on Camels as we cut through
the wind, with valiant defeat, I
forsake a model of absolute control

for a model of absolute love. I am
a man who loves life & wants to live
in dignity, but I’m limping with spurs

in the midst of another declinist panic
while Hail Mary book sales bloom like
algae in the summertime. Holiness is

what unites us, not distinguishes us.
Our diversity as humans is what we hold
in common. Hold me, I’m crapping alone.

I’m ripe for the illusion of resolution
in this delicate social ecology where
I’m shy on testosterone-drenched

bleachers. My whole lyfe has been
performative until now. To embrace
my self portrait as victim is to deny

my agency. The Dorito dust settles &
I’m dirty rich in love, having rehearsed
what is right with me. Restore my vision

just enough to form a glowstick cortege
in the cruisy wooded district, a halo
at the mixer. Blanching & the needle

dances on justice’s plethysmograph. He wore
a camelhair wifebeater. He was a forebrother.
He won the Magnet Award for Nursing Excellence

when I was whiskered with blood. He ate locusts
& said, “Honey, we know.” Dorito-tan Brother,
sleepwalk with me tonight. God knows what

just happened to the other broken. You
cannot make it better with the lights
turned on. Fold your heart open again

like a suitcase of clothes. Stuffed
with pageantry & peacocking, the vast
ethical grey area stirs to life. It’s

a terrible love & I’m walking in starlight.
Because we live a dream anyway,
because this is New York.

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