I remember when this used to be the cocaine hub of DC.
Well, that was when you were five blocks over and one storey underground. Couldn’t be more different now. But I come here, and I see that old sign there hanging on the wall, and, if I get tipsy enough, and squint my eyes, I can almost see the old place. If the lights are low enough, and the music stops, I can almost convince myself that I’m at the old bar. I used to sit over in a forgotten corner, in the dark, drinking Jack and Coke like the world was going to fucking burn up any second.
Continue reading ‘We Used to be Underground’
Everything in life disappears, sooner or later. Youth, energy, love, dreams, hope, and erections. Oh, and Malaysian airplanes.
Continue reading ‘2014: The year of hide & seek. By Monkey!’
Man, I blame so many people for all the bad shit that’s happened to me. The evil of my parents, the ingratitude and downright vicious usury of my idiot friends in high school, ex-lovers who are fucking retards for leaving me, and whoever was responsible for Galactica: 1980.
Seriously, though. Sure, family, friends, and lovers all betrayed me and left me alone in the horrific wilderness of my life…but what the fuck was going on with Galactica: 1980? That’s my only real question after 39 years on this planet full of horror and suffering. And no one can answer it. There is no answer. I don’t think there ever will be.
Continue reading ‘Peeved’
I figure that I can’t die until I’ve lived longer than the following people:
- Jesus Christ (33 — success!)
- Mom (46)
- Mohammed (62)
- Dad (69…uh…dude)
- Siddhartha (80)
I tried to play pool in Bethesda, MD on Sunday. I should have known better.
Continue reading ‘Pool’
Like most normal, sane people, I had put high school behind me. The worst years of our lives, really, no matter how much you try to sugarcoat it. When the 20th reunion party planners contacted me, I was a little bit alarmed that (a) 20 years had passed and (b) those fucking assholes found me. My first reaction was the same kind of shock and horror I felt when they dumped pigs blood on me at the prom and… No, wait. That wasn’t me. But, still. I sympathized with Carrie in those moments. You get them, girl. You get them for all of us!
Continue reading ‘Reunion’
I’ve spent the past few years bemoaning the gentrification of Silver Spring. How the town has lost her charm, her spice. How our dive bars have died. How we’ve been colonized by hipsters, transplants, neo-yuppies, armchair liberals, and the saccharine, mindless masses of salary serfs and condo owners. How we must endure the herpes-like sores of places like Firestation One and 8407.
Continue reading ‘The Golden Flame’
Silver Spring’s historic dive bar, the Quarry House, is dead. What it used to be, that is. The old Quarry House.
It’s taken me six years or so to come to grips with this.
Continue reading ‘Quarry House’
I set out to review The Nest, a slightly off the beaten path yuppie hangout in Bethesda, MD, but then I found myself with the same problem as when I tried to review Fire Station One in Silver Spring. The Nest, while obviously a great date spot if you’re into that noisy herd of transplants thing, is, essentially, boring. Yet another overpriced and soulless watering hole.
Continue reading ‘The Nest’
I have a dream. I’m going to move to New Orleans and open up a DC-themed bar. I’m going to call it “In Session” and set it up somewhere posh where we can pick up tourists and commuters. For all the expats, it’ll be a true home away from home.
The first thing I’ll do is raze any historic buildings that are in my way and then build a faux-French Quarter style building that is, somehow, cold, brutalist, and unwelcoming.
Continue reading ‘In Session’