Mid-1980's. This is NYC where one could find little refuge from the power-hungry, cocaine-frenzied traders, the big-haired girls of Bensonhurst, or the life-destroying effects of the gentrification plan of one fascist mayor. The sights of junkies & homeless, & the smells of urine & fermenting garbage of the city were often too disgusting to describe, but this was my home -- for what seemed a very long time.
Downtown Beirut -- no, not the war-torn capitol of Lebanon. Downtown Beirut bar from the outside was little more than a graphiti-strewn store-front painted, originally, black -- the little, plate sheets of glass covered in years of soot, tobacco tar, beer & a multitunde of alien substances allowed one to see only ghostly, blurred images within. With the door closed, one could only just hear, over the sounds of the First Avenue traffic, music coming from within. Uninviting, yes. This was only the scene from outside.
Stepping inside the door, which would slam shut behind you with a crash that jarred over the sound of the juke box, you would be immediately assulted by the loud music, the darkness interrupted only by flashing xmas tree lights, the closeness of the graphiti-strewn walls accentuated by the closeness of the people inside. The air was thick with the smell of stale beer & sweat. The people, a mix of neighborhood artists, freaks, & skin-heads.
When I'd first found Downtown Beirut, it had a very dangerous reputation causing the suits & the Bridge & Tunnel people -- those who lived in the outer boros, Jersey & Long Island -- to tread past quickly in fear. Bad drug deals, wallet-snatching girls & skin-head beatings were the experiences of most who'd come here, but these people came only once. I had, in time, become a near-nightly fixture.
It was here where I would meet some of the most incredible characters who've passed through my life. And it was here where I would experience some of my more bizarre & intense memories. Some of these experiences had involved hallucinogens or over-indulgence in cheap beer or wattered-down vodka, but most were when I was completely sober.
Of all the places where I have lived, I believe I'd lived more in that cesspool NYC, than I had in all the years, in all the other places, combined.
But wait....
Downtown Beirut -- no, not the war-torn capitol of Lebanon. Downtown Beirut bar from the outside was little more than a graphiti-strewn store-front painted, originally, black -- the little, plate sheets of glass covered in years of soot, tobacco tar, beer & a multitunde of alien substances allowed one to see only ghostly, blurred images within. With the door closed, one could only just hear, over the sounds of the First Avenue traffic, music coming from within. Uninviting, yes. This was only the scene from outside.
Stepping inside the door, which would slam shut behind you with a crash that jarred over the sound of the juke box, you would be immediately assulted by the loud music, the darkness interrupted only by flashing xmas tree lights, the closeness of the graphiti-strewn walls accentuated by the closeness of the people inside. The air was thick with the smell of stale beer & sweat. The people, a mix of neighborhood artists, freaks, & skin-heads.
When I'd first found Downtown Beirut, it had a very dangerous reputation causing the suits & the Bridge & Tunnel people -- those who lived in the outer boros, Jersey & Long Island -- to tread past quickly in fear. Bad drug deals, wallet-snatching girls & skin-head beatings were the experiences of most who'd come here, but these people came only once. I had, in time, become a near-nightly fixture.
It was here where I would meet some of the most incredible characters who've passed through my life. And it was here where I would experience some of my more bizarre & intense memories. Some of these experiences had involved hallucinogens or over-indulgence in cheap beer or wattered-down vodka, but most were when I was completely sober.
Of all the places where I have lived, I believe I'd lived more in that cesspool NYC, than I had in all the years, in all the other places, combined.
But wait....
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment