Friday, June 23, 2006
this is the end. . .
is how the subject line read on the electronic correspondence I recently sent to many in response to some devastating news:
The Back Room to close
I continued thusly. . .
. . . of a legendary era. . .
The month of July will bring many changes indeed, my brethren.
And like you, I wept upon reading the news.
The sad demise of The Back Room gives rise to the inevitable question of "Now where will those that still adorn themselves in ripped-up and sleeveless Molly Hatchet t-shirts go for entertainment and a couple of pitchers of cheap swill after slaving all day for The Man?"
That is a question for the ages, and not the focus of this correspondence.
We must reunite our forces for one last time, and with the last cheap tequila shot filled gasps of our dying youth, we must solicit sexual favors from strippers who are celebrating just getting off the day shift with enough cash to score a bump before hitting the town.
Just for the fuck of it.
It is the only thing to do. You know it is true. Just admit it.
Change is envitable. Accepting it does not have to be.
There are other much bigger changes in store for me, and my sweet family.
As I type these words I am looking down on an envelope which contains a copy of a contract to purchase a house. We are scheduled to close on July 7.
With an optimistic northwards look I will sadly be leaving behind my beloved South side after living south of the river since that sum'va'bitch Reagan was in office. They said he was a nice man and all, maybe his advisors were confused.
Our future new home lies to the north, near the edge of the city but certainly not sprawling on its fringes.
It's freakin' cool.
As Marley sang, "don't worry 'bout a thing, 'cause every little thing's gonna be all right"
- The Good Doctor Polymer Noyz
|
The Back Room to close
I continued thusly. . .
. . . of a legendary era. . .
The month of July will bring many changes indeed, my brethren.
And like you, I wept upon reading the news.
The sad demise of The Back Room gives rise to the inevitable question of "Now where will those that still adorn themselves in ripped-up and sleeveless Molly Hatchet t-shirts go for entertainment and a couple of pitchers of cheap swill after slaving all day for The Man?"
That is a question for the ages, and not the focus of this correspondence.
We must reunite our forces for one last time, and with the last cheap tequila shot filled gasps of our dying youth, we must solicit sexual favors from strippers who are celebrating just getting off the day shift with enough cash to score a bump before hitting the town.
Just for the fuck of it.
It is the only thing to do. You know it is true. Just admit it.
Change is envitable. Accepting it does not have to be.
There are other much bigger changes in store for me, and my sweet family.
As I type these words I am looking down on an envelope which contains a copy of a contract to purchase a house. We are scheduled to close on July 7.
With an optimistic northwards look I will sadly be leaving behind my beloved South side after living south of the river since that sum'va'bitch Reagan was in office. They said he was a nice man and all, maybe his advisors were confused.
Our future new home lies to the north, near the edge of the city but certainly not sprawling on its fringes.
It's freakin' cool.
As Marley sang, "don't worry 'bout a thing, 'cause every little thing's gonna be all right"
- The Good Doctor Polymer Noyz
|
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