BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill

Subject: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 09:23 PM

In a crooked corner a half-dozen blocks from Wall Street and a similar distance from Battery Park and the water, there is an an ancient, ancient place. It has been on this corner since the days when its clients were Dutch farmers and tinkers, before there was a State to call itself part of, nor any Union. Its age shows in many ways -- the exposed beams, the odd style of layup of the large stones that make upo the foundation, the sturdiness, the oddly shaped entrance and windows -- all these speak of construction in a different age, when the things you had to build against were gales, and maybe leprechauns. The old place has the look of endless, determined, quiet, unpretentious survival to it. It is smaller than the many newer buildings that surround it, but somehow it seems deeper-built, more strongly made, as though it expected to be standing there offering drink and song to passers by long after the skyscrapers had been replaced.

Tonight, as you approach it, you notice the sidewalk is coated with odd lots of paper -- memos from disjointed offices, parts of contracts, shards of white dusty residue which has piled high along the curve. Although it is dusk, just now, and the evening windis coming forth from the broad back of the nearby river, you can still make out the prints of many, many feet in the pale white dust sprinkled everywhere along the sidewalks and curbs -- little round stilleto prints, treaded Nike waffle marks, the elipse of hand-made Italian dress shoues, and oddly, the large square, tire-treaded marks of hundreds of people wearing firemen's boots.

The stout and somewhat short oaken door is several hundred years standing, but it wings smoothly open on ancient, oiled iron hiinges as push it. Inside there is a fire in a huge hearth, a large stack of seasoned firewood nearby, wide benches along windows of leaded glass that look out on the street, large soft chairs here and there. Along one wall there is a pit of strange dimensions, brimming with a phosphorescent green gelatinous substance. Along one end of the bar, a row of potatoes neatly lined up, and above them, a series of silken thongs hung on pegs.

There are a few people sitting here and there in the tavern, each nursing his chosen drink. Several of them are weeping. Some of them are singing quietly to themselves. At one small table, several of them are striking up a beautiful barbershop rendition of "Roll On, Columbia, Roll On."

At the center of the bar, a large slate stands with chalked letters on it:

Welcome to the Mudcat East River Bar and Grille

In the Spirit of Friendship For All Mankind,
All Libations are Offered Without Charge Tonight

The fire crackles, and in another corner an ancient Silvertone banjo is plucking along an accompaniment. Behind the bar a well-muscled, generous wasted gentlemen in pristine white shirtsleeves with wrist-garters and a long handlebar moustache, rubs glasses patiently with an ancient dishtowel, and waits for you order.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 09:26 PM

Ahem --- "generous-waisted gentleman!! Sorry, LEJ!!!

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: GUEST
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 09:33 PM

I suppose he would be rather generous if he was wasted...that is better than being an asshole when he's wasted...I suppose...

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 09:53 PM

A small serious man enters, wearing a leather weskit, a bloused linsey-woolsey shirt, and old leather boots.

He goes up to the back wall and takes out a small tack-hammer and some tacks, and from inside his generous shirtfront, removes a heavy sheepskin scroll, whcih he proceeds to unroll. Holding the tacks in his thin, determined mouth, he tacks the scroll up by the corners, one at a time, tending to the level and plumb of it, and stands back when done to admire his handiwork.

It is an old and weathered notice, its edges work but its surface a clear pale shade of oak, and its letters strongly and clearly formed, the lines straight, but of varying widths on the verticals, horizontals and looped strokes, as if executed in a quill pen.

It reads:

 

PROCLAMATION

WHEREAS, in just Punishment of our manifold Transgressions, it hath
pleased the Supreme Disposer of all Events to visit these United States with a
calamitous War, through which his Divine Providence hath hitherto in a wonderful
Manner conducted us, so that we might acknowledge that the Race is not to the
Swift, nor the Battle to the Strong:

AND WHEREAS, notwithstanding the Chastisements received and Benefits
bestowed, too few have been sufficiently awakened to a Sense of their
Guilt, or warmed with Gratitude, or taught to amend their Lives and turn from
their Sins, that so he might turn his Wrath:

AND WHEREAS, from a Consciousness of what we have merited at his Hands,
and an Apprehension that the Malevolence of our disappointed Enemies,
like the Incredulity of Pharaoh, may be used as the Scourge of Omnipotence to
vindicate his slighted Majesty, there is Reason to fear that he may permit much of
our Land to become the Prey of the Spoiler, our Borders to be ravaged, and
our Habitations destroyed:

RESOLVED, THAT it be recommended to the several States to appoint the
First Thursday in May next to be a Day of Fasting, Humiliation, and Prayer to
Almighty God, that he will be pleased to avert those impending Calamities which we
have but too well deserved:

That he will grant us his Grace to repent of our Sins, and amend our
Lives according to his Holy Word;

That he will continue that wonderful Protection which hath led us through the Paths of Danger and Distress: That he will
be a Husband to the Widow, and a Father to the fatherless Children, who weep
over the Barbarities of a Savage Enemy;

That he will grant us Patience in Suffering, and Fortitude in Adversity;

That he will inspire us with Humility, Moderation, and Gratitude in
prosperous Circumstances: That he will give Wisdom to our Councils, Firmness to our
Resolutions, and Victory to our Arms;

That he will bless the Labours of the Husbandman, and pour forth
Abundance, so that we may enjoy the Fruits of the Earth in due Season: That he will
cause Union, Harmony, and mutual Confidence to prevail throughout these
States;

That he will bestow on our great Ally all those Blessings which may
enable him to be gloriously instrumental in protecting the Rights of Mankind, and
promoting the Happiness of his Subjects;

That he will bountifully continue his paternal Care to the Commander in
Chief, and the Officers and Soldiers of the United States;

That he will grant the Blessings of Peace to all contending Nations, Freedom to
those who are in Bondage, and Comfort to the Afflicted;

That he will diffuse Useful Knowledge, extend the Influence of True
Religion, and give us that Peace of Mind which the World cannot give;

That he will be our Shield in the Day of Battle, our Comforter in the
Hour of Death, and our kind Parent and merciful Judge through Time and through
Eternity.

Done in CONGRESS,

this Twentieth Day of March, in the Year of Our Lord One Thousand Seven
Hundred and Seventy-Nine, and in the Third Year of our Independence.

JOHN JAY, President.

Attest.

CHARLES THOMSON, Secretary.

PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED BY HALL AND SELLERS.

The strange little man nods, content, and wanders back out into the cooling evening.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Peg
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 10:45 PM

A bedraggled, gypsy-skirted urchin whirls in, her hair gleaming with a six-day-old patina of chalk-white dust, her eyes agleam with the reflection of souls, dreams, hopes, futures, all smashed, shattered, burned to bits, her chapped hands the pale red of apples exploded on the sidewalk, her shoes torn from walking upon war-torn rubble.

In a voice parched as desert, broken as the heart of New York, trembling like the nerves of those returning to work in Washington...she asks for water. Cool, soothing, a sweet silver draught to nourish a throat shredded by screaming...the bartender adds a sprig of fresh mint, winks, slides the tall cylinder along the bar where it catches its own twinkling image in the bar's mirror, and the two metallic-coloured glasses are like magical futuristic, towers in a miniature landscape...then she takes hold of the glass and the landscape shimmers and dissipates and is gone.

She drinks. Her tear ducts fill again. Impossible, to think they had dried for a time.

She drinks.

And sits in the corner.

And sings.

We Shall Overcome.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 10:48 PM

Monday nights are never really high-volumes for taverns; but people from time to time trickle in anyway, attracted by the soft yellow light and the sound of unaggressive, friendly music. The room slowly begins to fill and LEJ is kept busy handing out tequilas, Bordeaux, and Glenlivets up and down the bar. Through some invisible sense of synchronization people are taking turns singing, never barging in but always knowing as though by telepathy who should go next. One sings "Home In That Rock". Another sings "Down By The Riverside" and gets a merry backup from the tall stranger in the corner, wearing high brown leather boots and plucking the old Silvertone. "Amazing Grace", "Enniscorthy Farewell", "Abide With Me", "Poor Wayfarin' Stranger", come one after another in a gentle series of brave voices joined in a kind of ambient benevolence, lit by the fire's gentle crackle, as the evening wears into night.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 11:04 PM

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 11:10 PM

(That was beautiful, Peg O' My Heart!)

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Mrrzy
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 11:18 PM

A hat atop much long hair comes in. A dashing hat; it goes around to one end of the bar and asks for a decaf Irish coffee - no Bailey's, no mint, just in case that's how it's made here. Some may notice that no music escapes the lips under that hat tonight, unless the song has nothing, nothing, of religion, or patriotism, or other ideals divisive of humanity. Others may notice little holes being drilled in the whipped cream by tears falling from from the eye less hidden by the hat's jaunty angle, in the moments before the coffee becomes part of history, like the past week, like the past 2 decades and more. After all, you can't let Irish Coffee get cold, or you miss the whole point.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 11:27 PM

Someone starts singing "He Ain't Heavy -- He's Me Brother", and the whole room chimes in for a chorus or two. That fades out and a few people are weeping still, but instead of sobbing alone, they are reaching out to each other and providing comfort to strangers whose burdens have grown too great this night; sometimes exchanging places after a while, the weeper becoming the comforter, providing a shoulder and an embrace of support when they find that the shoulder they were crying on is now overcome.

Different songs strike people's fancies --"Saint James Infirmary" gets a smattering of applause because it is delivered in especially poignant tones. Someone else is struck with the notion of singing "Rockabye Sweet Baby James". No one complains at the choices; there is a tacit understanding, this night, that the eart has its reasons not to be gainsaid by any protocol.

The Silvertone plucks along behind some of the songs. Some else has a small concertina and plays it when it fits,.

Small edges of an unsupportable grief and loss seem to recede sightly before the softer, insistant and gentle light of shared human attention and affection.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 11:29 PM

Are you going away with no words of farewell?
Will there be not a trace left behind?
I could have loved you better
Didn't mean to be unkind
You know, that was the last thing on my mind...

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Ebbie
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 11:39 PM

A middle-aged woman sighs tiredly as she takes the proffered glass of deep red wine glinting in the firelight and sinks into a soft chair. She scans the room slowly as more and more people wander in. Her tightened jaw relaxes. She knows that there is no perfect place to be, these days, but this is where she needs to be. She drinks deeply.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: wysiwyg
Date: 17 Sep 01 - 11:42 PM

A Sugar Dog sighs soft in her sleep, turning over to settle once more.

~S~

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: SINSULL
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 12:35 AM

Another slightly bedraggled middle-aged woman wanders in, places a dented tin of warm cookies on the bar and apologizes "It was all I knew how to do". Then she wanders out again.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 12:50 AM

The man staggers in, staggers from weariness and not from drink. He pulls off the slick, black protective coat and drops it on the floor by a barstool. A small cloud of cement dust rises from the coat, and the man drops a fireman's helmet on the heap. He pushes the goggles up on his forehead, revealing a youthful pair of brown eyes surrounded by pink flesh, contrasting with the powder-pallor of the rest of his visage. "Beer" he says.

He drinks deeply, as the others at the bar pause to glance at him. He puts down the cold glass and licks his lips and says "I'm going to need another." And the bartender recognizes the voice and says "Joey? Joe Scampinetti?" and the fireman nods, and the bartender says "Thank God you made it!" And as if they all of them knew him, the patrons raise their glasses in his honor, and Joey says "no" and turns to look at them, and the tears have made dark rivulets down his cheeks, and he says "no, don't drink to me. There are so many who didn't make it. My best friend is still underneath the Tower." And their eyes look down, and Joey says to the bartender "you know him. We play pool in here every Friday night..played pool." The dregs of the beer drain into his throat. "He and his wife have a baby." And Joe Scampinetti picks up his coat and helmet and says "no, drink to Tommy and 250 guys like him. And drink to never letting it happen again."

The patrons raise their glasses, and Joey steps out into the street, where a gray rain begins to spatter on the sidewalk and pool in the gutters, and to carry its freight of concrete dust to the East River, and the sea.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 01:23 AM

A small serious man enters, wearing a leather weskit, a bloused linsey-woolsey shirt, and old leather boots.

What, no trousers?

Losing trousers is the least of my worries, when so many have lost so much more.

All I have to give is the tune this old instrument has in it. All I have to say has been said before.

So we'll just say it again.

And to those no longer with us, our thought turn anew.

LTS

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 09:45 AM

As it happens, he WAS wearing moleskin breeches to just below the knee, and calf high stockings, and some plain cotton boxer shorts, too, Liz. I just was focusing on other parts of the story...

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: MAG
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 10:39 AM

I'll be back after work -- hope y'all are still here then

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 11:36 AM

And I wasn't? Read it again.

LTS

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Mrrzy
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 11:54 AM

The hat sings along with Amos, but skips the verse about You got reason's a-plenty for going.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 12:26 PM

The quiet sailor gazes out the window, reflected on a window accross the street he sees a skyline with a gaping hole. A song comes to mind..

Rise again, Rise again, Like the Mary Ellen Carter, Rise again.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Noreen
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 03:50 PM

From a large, soft chair by the glowing fire, a gentle, soothing voice begins singing almost imperceptibly, then strengthens, just as a glowing ember being breathed back to life...

When you're down and troubled
And you need some loving care
And nothing, no, nothing is going right...

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: MMario
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 04:25 PM

On the sidewalk a figure turns away from the door. His wanderings had brought him to the stoop of the MudCat Bar and Grill several times during the day - but he could not yet manage to turn the knob and enter.

It is still too soon for him; he is not yet at the point where he can detach himself emotionally from recent events - and still reserved enough that he will not inflict those emotions on his friends inside.

But he glances in the window as he walks away yet again - smiling at those he can see inside, because he truly believes there is no better memorial then to continue to live life, and remember with joy. And as the notes of the music inside fade into the distance he finds himself humming along.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 07:44 PM

A small blonde woman sees him turning away, and pursues him down the wet, dark sidewalks.

"Excuse me. I wonder if I could ask you for some help."

The large, broad shouldered gentleman in the Renaissance cape turns around at the sound of her small, gentle voice, and his chivalrous instinct comes to the fore.

"Of course! What can I do for you?"

" I wonder if you might have half an hour or so to spare with me., I have been through a very hard time, lately, and I need a shoulder to lean on. And I am sitting in that little tavern down there...", gesturing at the distant puddle of lamplight on the sidewalk, "and feeling very alone. And I would really appreciate it if you would just come and sit by me for a while and talk, or let me talk, and help me remember songs....I can't seem to think of any!"

He is taken aback; but her deep blue, saddened eyes, tear-streaked face and determined energy are more than he can deny. He offers her a smile, a small bow, and his right arm, as he turns back toward the distant tavern.

"I am at your service, as soon as you tell me your name, and what sort of libation you might prefer this e'en, fair ladye!"

She smiles up at his towering, protective,helpful face.

"I am Ilke. I enjoy a small glass of akvavit from time to time, when I am feeling sad!"

"Then it shall be three akvavits for us, this evening."

Their shadowy forms are dappled and briefly illuminated by the window's lights as they arrive at the ancient oaken door, swing it back once more on its oiled iron hinges, and find a small table just past the concertina player, who is squeezing out the refrains of "Long Long Trail A-Winding". For some reason some of the light stays in their faces as they begin to make friends.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: MAG
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 08:43 PM

The chubby woman out for her daily constitutional on her bike pulls up outside the tavern. She is very shy with strangers, but, looking through the window, she sees many old friends -- just what she needs. Softly crooning "In the glass I saw a strange reflection; was that lonely woman really me?", she pushes through the well-weathered door into a cozy, warm, and comforting room, lit by the mellow glow from the fireplace. Double tall latte, please - no sugar. She starts to collect hugs from everyone present.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 09:49 PM

The Silvertone has been joined by a second stranger, tall and lean, carrying an old Dreadnought. They are singing thirds in clear, sweet baritone.tenor combinations, sliding alng the runs and chords in a quiet corner, evoking nods, and smiles of knowing from the other tables and nooks here and there in the tavern...

"Show me the country where the bombs had to fall,
Show me the ruins of the buildings once so tall,
And I'll show you, young [one], with so many reasons why,
That there but for fortune go you and I, ... ."

Now and again the door swings open admitting a gust of damp evening air, still warm, and another dazed, tearstained soul wanders in, accepts a free drink and a hug from a stranger. Each finds himself or herself a seat, and one by one, each finds some song coming to the surface of an aching heart, and sings it in the spirit of the tavern, in the warm moist air of the river night, in the deep center of a city which is still weeping.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: MAG
Date: 18 Sep 01 - 11:29 PM

Woooh, Death
Wooh, Death
Won't you spare me over for another year?

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Mrrzy
Date: 19 Sep 01 - 09:19 AM

Looking up from the next Irish Coffee, the head under the dashing hat feels a song move through it, another gentle lament for the fallen... but the lyrics have vanished again, back into the gloomy, gloomy cavern of mind, with its now-stilling waters of fear. A spark of hope therein reflects the candles blowing in the wind from the opening door without...

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Mrrzy
Date: 19 Sep 01 - 01:16 PM

...All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are o'er
All the good times are past and gone
Darling, don't you weep for me...

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 19 Sep 01 - 05:47 PM

Another couple in the front of the room, swated at a small table, is holding hands. He is lanky, a thin man in his late forties; she is perhaps ten years younger, with tenderness in her features but care gently etched on her face. The man is graying at the temples, but his eyes are deep, alert and young. He has brown hair, otherwise, and a tanned, somewhat lined face. They ar elooking into each others' eyes as though each was finding therein some long journey from which they did not wish to return.

They start singing together, the two of them in harmony, their minds are friends who have lost friends, their hearts with the wounded, but their hands and voices intimately entwined...

Oh fare thee well, I must be gone
And leave you for a while.
Wherever I go, I shall return,
Though I go ten thousand miles.
Though I go,
Though I go ten thousand miles...

A waiter clears their old glasses and briongs them two more tulip shaped glasses of Chablis, quietly slipping back to the bar so as not to interrupt their song.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 19 Sep 01 - 09:51 PM

As their voices fade into an endless quiet stare, a tired, wrinkled overgrown hippy in a wrinkled tweed coat and baggy trousers stands up and raises a tankard of brown ale. His hair is long, his eyes steely ut puffed with the residue of grief and perhaps abuse. He looks neither up nor down, but into the middle distance, and he sings in a full, rich baritone with just a trace of Midwestern twng:

There'll be a time I hear tell
When all will be well
When God and man will be reconciled
But until men lose their chains
And righteousness reigns
Lord, protect my child

He sits down, sips from his drink, and takes a large, wrinkled handkercheif from his pocket, and buries his weeping eyes in white linen.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: GUEST
Date: 19 Sep 01 - 09:58 PM

holy halucinating harlots
the mudcat cafe is dutch and not jewish?
i'm out of here

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: kendall
Date: 19 Sep 01 - 10:07 PM

A nearly bald old folkie, a throwback to the 60's sits with a double "Duggans Dew O' Kirkintilloch". Unable to raise the energy to sing, he just mumbles over and over, " The Queen had them play The Stars & Stripes Forever", And,"They dont ALL hate us by God"!

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 19 Sep 01 - 10:10 PM

The weird, scrawny, cross-eyed punklet, sporting pierced lips, nostrils and eyebrows with glass baubles inserted, beats a hasty retreat immediately after opening the door, his blue, green and red hair spikes bobbing frantically as he turns and runs back out in search of a hard session of Ecstasy and acid rock. His ragged denim vest, riddled with little spikes of shiny chrome, has a black skull spraypainted on the back, supported by the letters "F - -k Everything, Mannnn".

No one notices.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: MAG
Date: 19 Sep 01 - 11:54 PM

Pete Seeger's arrangement of the Ecclesiastes quote rises from the cyclist -- bike still firmly chained up by the door --

To everything, turn, turn turn ...
There is a season, Turn turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven ...

thank you all for being here.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: GUEST,micca at work
Date: 20 Sep 01 - 07:06 AM

Enter a small bearded bespectecled figure, armed with a round metal hipflask with both Toxic and Biohazard labels on the outside, he takes a swig, and passes it round , taking a perverse pleasure in the looks of astonishment and horror that pass rapidly over the faces of those that accept, he sings briefly ,but with great sadness

" You are like the Wild Geese ,love
You Fly where ere you will
where ever the Wild Geese take you love
My arms will hold you still"
He mutters something about "loss and seperation from those we love" and exits clutching a hankie and his misted specs. Leaving behind a stainless steel tankard on the table.. for which he returns later..

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Diva
Date: 20 Sep 01 - 07:23 AM

Only to find it has produced twins......bit of a huzzy that Grail!!!!!! I'll have a large malt....Islay preferably and I'll just go and sit over there in a corner and add my voice to the chorus's

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: SINSULL
Date: 20 Sep 01 - 10:44 PM

Wait a minute! Did anyone check his VISA? He isn't due here for at least a month. Biohazard? Did we learn anything over the past week? Somebody grab the "bearded bespectacled man" for questioning. Careful where you grab - he is wearing only a book! This could get ugly!

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 20 Sep 01 - 11:32 PM

A Man comes in with his boy. The lad is turning over a coin in his hand. On one side a dove with an olive branch, on the other side four hooded horsemen and the letters WWW III.

"Can I flip it Daddy?" "Not yet son. Wouldn't be prudent." "Awww Dadddyyyy" "Soon son soon......"

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Troll
Date: 20 Sep 01 - 11:51 PM

A large-waisted man with longish hair under an old gray cap , a scruffy white beard and a cane limps in, sets down the guitar case and orders diet Pepsi.
He sings tenor harmony on some of the choruses but mostly he sits with his eyes closed and listens.
A lull comes and he starts into "Danny Boy" but cannot get beyond; "though summer's gone..."
His head bows to his chest and his shoulders shake as he weeps, silently, as if the sound of his tears falling would shatter his soul like crystal.

troll

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Lyrical Lady
Date: 21 Sep 01 - 02:14 AM

Hearing the sound of soft, weary voices, she enters from the dusty streets and take a seat beside the weeping man. She places her cheek against his soft grey beard and gently sings "Art thou troubled, music shall calm thee".

LL

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Amos
Date: 21 Sep 01 - 11:54 PM

Thank you, kind Lyrical Lady.

Throughout this ancient safe retreat, the power of music and the gentle persuasion of free booze has combined to create a kind of glazed benevolence, a shaken, bruised heart which still remembers the deep rhthms to which it always marches -- the drummer Music, the bright fife of Humanity, and the constant companions of good thinking and right acting. For better or for worse the people in the tavern are gravitating, in their sorrows and pains, back to their truest centers once more, knowing that there is always the future in which to make things better.

Warm winds from the winding river blow around the door, the sounds of scores of large dumptrucks hauling rubble from the ruined Towers, can be heard, but so can the sound of the softest tear falling on a table in the old tavern. So, too, can the sound of the music -- just now, the old Silvertone is plucking out, "Folllow ---- Follow --- Folow the Drinking Gourd", an old, old song sung those who continuously seek freedom.

The stars wheel into position slowly in the sky above Manhattan, and the music continues its endless rolling lift across the centuries.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Chip2447
Date: 22 Sep 01 - 12:23 AM

The long haired, grey bearded, renaissance hippy orders two pints of the house's finest, drinks one and leaves the other for those that never made it home on Tuesday.
He finds a secluded spot in a corner and tries not to think about the thousands of times that the pipes will play Amazing Grace in the days to come.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: MAG
Date: 26 Sep 01 - 01:28 AM

The cyclist has returned; she pulls out a portable and calls up the Midnight Special archives from September 15.

Nobosy's singing right now, she says; this 3 hours is really really good ... we can just listen for awhile if it's OK with y'all.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Mrrzy
Date: 05 Oct 01 - 01:31 PM

Well, things have been quieting down - the Hat looks around, who else is still here? Faint music is heard, a harp, perhaps?

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: Chip2447
Date: 05 Oct 01 - 02:28 PM

The Grey bearded loon is here, still contemplating the day that the world changed.

Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat East River Bar and Grill
From: MAG
Date: 05 Oct 01 - 04:59 PM

The cyclist returns after a few more spins around the block, just 'cause she likes the place.

I had a ninety minute wait in the Philly airport, just for the security line. Not that I don't want them doing their job. I also want the government to put the same money into trains that they have been putting into planes lo these many years. Not to mention the highway system. I had a sweet time at my --- 35th --- HS class reunion, and yes, I did round up my old Tri-Hi-Y club to sing "Let there be Peace on Earth" like we did at the Sing-off back then.