The teenager in the green tracksuit has found her niche. The dude with the
wobbly walk, probably due to his stomache, has found his niche. The
college going, shorts wearing girl walking with her visiting mama has
found her niche. The grey haired athletic looking man, lounging down the
path has found his niche. Even the damn geese quacking and wobbling around
have found their niche.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here drinking. I know I have things to
do, important things, responsible things. But I’m craving some
drinking tonight. Some loosing of my mind, some careless smoozing, some
carefee boozing. Yet, I know, when the bar closes, I’ll make my way to El
Sobrante, my home. I don’t particularly like that place. I have a home,
yet I can’t call it home, if you get my drift.
Some women have unbelievable voices. You hear this voice on your left,
“fucking A, grunt frunt”, “Japanese is totally hard, I’m takin a class
now”. I turn around, thinking it must be some nose-ring toting, long
haired punk. Bu tno, it’s my bartender, just chatting it out with some of
her regular customers. Gorgeous too, really cool. She has a sweat-shirt on
that says “Pretty girls make graves”. That’s totally bitching, man, I say.
It’s the name of a band I used to be in, she says.
This bar is different. You gotta visit it when you’re in oakland. They
have death metal playing right now. To top it off, they have a kickass
movie playing on their screents “Once upon a time in Mexico”. No sports
for me, thank you ma’am. Oh no, wait, that movie’s done. They’re playing
“Dawn of the deat” and the music just kicked up a notch, screaming and
teeth-scratching-on-guitars wise. The amazing bartender with the throaty
voice is telling me this place is not all thrash metal.
She says wednesdays, this place is packed with girls. Hmm, I must’ve sent
her a vibe, Hey yo, lookie here, I’m on the lookout for girls or something
like that. 4 to 1 she says to me.
She proceeds to pull out a smoke and drags on it. Can I smoke? Sure you
can, not legally, but yeah!. I’m in heaven. This place is totally empty
and I’m in heaven. I’m smoking in a bar in
neo-liberal/health-conservative, environment conscious Bayarea. I can’t
believe it myself. Hallelujah for rebelliousness.
It’s called the golden bull. The bar. I believe it’s on 14th street
downtown. Ok, I’m going to the billiards table. I’m not good at it, but
they seem nice.
Some one just worte a paragraph on one of my index cards. This is what it
says in all CAPS.
My friend, it’s the peace that passes within
there’s no cause, and there’s no end!
Repent for my sake
Cause I know not the end.
There’s this guy who’s been tracking customers around the bar. I was
hoping he’d give me some skank for a tenner. But then again, I had a
feeling he’s a copper on the prowl. He shows up. I thought he’d screwed
me, but he shows up. He acts like he’s the owner of the bar, but whatever.
The girl with the gorgeous voice seems put off by the whole deal. She
seemed like a girl one could hang with.
I kinda like this whole japanese-b-flicks with live heavy metal moment. It
flows and gives meaning to the whole evening.