And we're off...did someone say, bar crawl?

Ramblings Post #249
Do something different. Start the new year off with a bang. Let's try not to make those just words and phrases. It's time to hit the gym, cut out the sugar, and focus on the next step we're taking to get where we want to go. But...changes don't just go one way. Change the things you do to enjoy yourself, or at least try. Because you never know what you might enjoy. But if involves spiders or heights, keep it to yourself.

One of my old partners from back in the day hit me up a few days ago with the idea for a start of the New Year's Bar Crawl through Castleberry Hill to start off 2014 with a bang. I reminded him that this, first, is not New Orleans and second, although Atlanta appears to be in the south it really is just less north than a lot of places, as evidenced by the cool breeze that has a tendency to pop up this time of year. He swore it would be fun, sent out an invite on FB, and low and behold the party was arranged for Friday night.

Castleberry Hill, for those not from Atlanta (and those from Atlanta who only live in the suburbs) is one of the cities hot new districts, with lots of small restaurants, bars, wine shops and lounges. Whereas most clubs in Atlanta strive to be Super clubs - with massive dance floors, vast rooms, and crowds pressing to get in, this area is at a different pace. Most of the spots are the size of large Starbucks. They are neighborhood spots, designed to attract the residents of the expensive condos and town houses that they were placed near. But, it's still developing so, for a couple of the stops planned, it was not a hop skip and jump, but a fairly long little walk.

 Know this, cold as it is had there been as much as 1 mph of wind, I would have stayed home.

Instead I dressed semi-warmly, on the idea that I would be in and out all night, found some gloves I knew I had and headed out to the first stop, a spot called Smoke Ring. It's a chic little BBQ spot at the north end of the district, all woods and rustic, but very open and bright. And bereft of any revelers. I was the first to arrive. Please note that at this point I was twenty minutes late. I contemplated the idea that if nobody showed up by the time we were scheduled to move onto the next spot, I would simply order dinner and go home.

A few minutes later people started showing up, in droves. What I thought might be ten people at best
quickly turned into a group of twenty to twenty five. Spanky popped up, as well as few Game Night originals, and some shots were quickly ordered. The original plan was to show up at the various spots, well, invade might have been a better term at this point, get a libation and move on forty five minutes later. Although late starting, the crawl proceeded right on schedule, pulling out in a long line of chilly participants at eight forty five sharp.

The next stop was a little burger+sushi spot called Bottle Rocket, a brisk two block stroll south. It's a perfect little neighborhood spot, if say, you're hanging out with a friend or want a quick jaunt out with the significant other. If you're in bar crawl, the previous use of the word "little" is very appropriate. After stepping in for a few minutes and getting a feel for the place, I decided that my time would be better spent on the sidewalk, meeting people not with our party. While a few of crawl members who had missed out on a drink at the first stop got a quick one, I met with members of the band who had just played and few other fun characters.

Because of the growing crowd, a newly met trio and I decided to ...er, scout ahead, yes, that's it, scout ahead at our next stop - The Pearl - to check things out. This is was probably the best spot on the route to eat, as a delicious aroma of seafood greeted us upon entering. We got some drinks, and then settled into the semi-private room in the back to wait for our comrades, who when they arrived a few minutes later now probably numbered closer to forty. We caroused, we met new revelers, we probably all told multiple lies.

Now, more closely bonded, my trio and I made our way south one door to the 255 Tapas Lounge, the spot where many years ago I figured out that there is no such thing as a quick jaunt out.  This another spot that was ready for us on arrival, opening a second bar in the back in preparation. Moments after my arrival, the bulk of us finally swarmed inside a large warm tent keeping the back patio habitable. 

Blu Cantina, formerly M Bar was the next locale, and it was conveniently located right next door.  Upon entering I realized that they'd only changed the name, and nothing else. It was and still is the about the size of a two bedroom apartment. And since it was already kind of full, our arrival only cranked things up to crazy. It was here Spanky found some guy...I have no idea of his name...some guy willing to buy shots to infinity. At one point I think he bought fifteen shots, one for everybody she pointed out of the crowd. This meant it was time for me to move away from the bar. Because the place was so small and our crowd now so large, the atmosphere suddenly seemed a bit more "rowdy" for some reason. This is the one spot I was happy to move on from.

Our last stop was next door at the Spinning Pie, a spot that looked for all intents and purposes like a scene from a old school rap video. All that were missing were bomber jackets and rope gold chains. Seriously, two dancers on the bar and camera and we would have all been on BET. Maybe it's just a Friday night thing, I don't know. Here though, I dialed it back and shared a pizza with some fellow revelers - old school FAMUans - to get my mind right. And because we it was the last stop, then, in the small space near the door, Spanky and her gang of friends made a dance floor appear. Ah, grand attempts at recaptured youth. I finally abandoned them to their grooving the night away probably around 1am or so, which is not to shabby for an old man.

I like stuff like this, new and different things, which involved exercise and camaraderie, with the nip with new friends and old serving as the carrot to entice us all. When I have more time in the Spring hopefully I'll be able to do this all again.

Barkeep, I'll need some hair dye and the address of a good barber. 

Once again it's....oh, my back!

Ramblings Post #247
There is a theory, that one day, if things happen like in the movies, someone will invent a time machine and go back and change everything so that the world is a better place. There is another theory that this has already happened, and how you remember history IS the good version. I should also take a moment to point out that time travel pretty much is impossible, planets moving, starts moving, excetra. Please, continue as you were.

You can't really ever go home again. You can visit the house you grew up in, and roam the same streets but it will never be like when you were a kid, when the streets were more magical than treacherous, and the house was peopled by your parents, who in your mind you thought could protect you from everything. And just like you can just go home again, you also can't just be "on" again. Oh, no, no you cannot.

You see, last night my RP threw what used to be the annual end of the year party, an informal extended drop-in with food, drinks and fun for all. Because he's got a kid now his place was out of the question, so we had the joint at another friend's house not too far away. Well, not too far away on a map. In reality, I made two turns and I may as well of been in the wilds of Mississippi. It just felt far! Nice house though.

We hadn't done it in a while so it was a slow start crowd wise, but as the night wore on people I hadn't seen in ages rolled through. They were as happy as I was to see folks, have a few drinks and catch up on the life the don't put on Facebook since the last time we crossed paths. Cards were played, dancing occurred, food was eaten. It was fun. Hadn't done that in years.

Today however, my back and the associated muscle group attached have decided that last night was a total fiasco and should never be attempted again. Ever. This isn't the result of imbibing either (I didn't drink) but just standing up for let's see, I got there at 7:30pm and left at about 3am, so roughly seven hours. I'm stumbling around my house in slow motion, bowlegged, and at a 70 degree angle. And since I mistakenly didn't go grocery shopping last week - holidays and all - my fridge is almost bare of things that don't involve 45 minutes to an hour of prep time. On the upside it didn't matter, because after that big glass of water...or the other big glass of water, I went to lie down for a second, and woke up a few hours later. As of this posting I still haven't eaten today.

Double bonus, there are two parties tonight and its raining, and I hate driving in the rain. Plus my RP is having a fish fry tomorrow. Then next week is NYE somewhere. My social calender is packed for the first time in ages. Provided I can walk comfortably in a little while.

Never thought I would miss the peace and quiet of studying. But I need to get back out there if only to pop up and say hi before heading back to the mental trenches.

Barkeep, let me get two Aleve and tall glass of sweet tea. And a bowl of your finest peanuts.

Vanquish the Night

Ramblings Post #234
Giving advice is easy. Because from the area of detachment, because from the outside looking in, there exists a clarity that can't be seen from the angle of involvement. It's why companies hire consultants and why people go to therapists. Or ask friends. I get asked for advice a lot. I generally try to let people talk themselves into a circle, until they can see they're own answer they've been actively avoiding. But even with the best advice, there lies a problem. The person giving it isn't involved. 

I attended the first night of Spanky's birthday festival, held at the midtown super club, Vanquish. I had never been to Vanquish or it's sister club, Reign, before this event. I arrived around 10pm. This is my stream of consciousness BB message to Spanky, as stood in the line...something I used to never do.

Really? You've got me STANDING IN LINE? No RSVP Line? There are bars I can see from here with no line, no cover. Isn't this just the best? All this Atlanta going on, we the black people crush into one spot. As though we'd been trained. The term 'ridiculous' comes to mind. Funny, were dresses always this short? Any you need the email to acknowledge the RSVP? They have no list. And there goes $20. And you got to be [bleep] me. This is it? This is the whole thing? Oh, and I have no idea where you are. Upstairs bar? Nope. Main Floor? Too crowded to tell. 

I'm getting old.

There is something about going to the club. The cover charge, the nasty looks because I look interested but I'm not the male model she wanted to pay attention, the long wait at the bar, etc. Clubs in Atlanta have gone from glitzy to relaxed earthy and then back, so I've seen it all. And it's not that I hate clubs, I've had some great nights out and about. It's just that now I can only really take this kind of experience, this wanna be glam over the top party, in small doses. So keep that in mind when I reading this.

Vanquish. From the back corner by the DJ booth. My spot.

So, then. Vanquish. Super club. Midtown.

The club is basically one big room, with a bar in the back and front left wall. It contains what looks like furniture from your aunt's house in the middle, and sleek magazine style furniture in the glass enclosed "private" areas. And an upstairs bar with a glass window wall that overlooks the dance floor of the club next door. And a sound system that vibrates your soul. And a light system that might cause seizures. And a tiny little dance floor the size of a kitchen.

If you go back to my stream from earlier, this is what I meant by the 'this is it' comment. From the way I've heard people talk about it, I expected movie-style accoutrements, with women in cages hanging from the ceiling, or people breathing fire on little podiums. Mermaids in a glass tube, waitresses on stilts, tigers, shark tank under the floor and paintings happening on balconies as the party raged below. Um, maybe I expected too much. 

Spanky's party was in the back corner, and I'm going to be completely honest, once I got there I found a spot and sat down. The place was packed, I mean what is the occupancy rating packed, and I really wasn't up to having to fight my way through the crush again. From my perch on the couch in the back corner, I saw everybody I needed to see. As the people worked there way over to wish Spanky her happy birthday, I said hi, gave a hug and promptly sat back down. Spanky had purchased a bottle for the 'table' and it came with various juices - orange, cranberry and pineapple. If you mix just those three together, they're awesome. I was content. I gratefully watched the purses.

Waitresses in little black dresses. DJ was alright, good mix of new and old school. Comfortable couch. I was set.

And that would have been the end of it, snuggled up in a corner trying to avoid brain damage. But as the night wore on, the crowd thinned and the DJ kept going back in time, one of Spanky's girlfriends (who I'd never seen before) popped up with the birthday girl's ex-paramour in tow. I don't think he ever really went away, but that's another story. He sprawled out on the couch next to her as I watched from across the table. (I found out later she'd asked the girl to go find him.) The music was too loud for me to hear, not that it was my business, but I was expecting the worst. There was some conversation, some pointed looks, then he just got up and left. No yelling, no hint of animosity, just got up and walked away, didn't even look back. And Spanky dissolved into tears.

It was nice to see her girls rally around her as she got emotional. A few minutes later her crew took charge and walked her out, the whole scene happening as though I was the season finale on one of the many reality shows that now infest the city. After they'd loaded her into the car in and disappeared, and I walked one of the other girls to her car, I called to leave her a message of encouragement. I was surprised when she answered her phone, but by then she'd fallen into subdued defeat.

It was a bad end to a tolerable evening.

Should you go? Sure, it is an experience you need to have. If only to know why you wouldn't want to go back. There was a time in my life I would have enjoyed this... in small doses. You might be in the time period of yours.

Barkeep, hey barkeep....hey! Man, forget this, I'm just going down the street. 

Gimme a Beat!

Ramblings Post #198
I don't go out anymore. I got out of the habit going to school at night, and now I've gotten comfortable sitting home at night watching TV and playing video games. You would at least think I would be reading or something productive, working on one of my projects. But no. Anyway, the truth is this house is kinda empty, and the city is teeming with life. So here we go. Again.

Atlanta, despite reports to the contrary, consists of more than Waffle Houses, strip malls, chicken joints, circular highways and gentleman's clubs. There is a bit of arty crowd here, with the High Museum, a symphony, a branch of the Savannah College of Art and Design and that eclectic little district known as Little Five Points. And once a year, the good folks at Jack Daniel's sponsor a show called Art, Beats and Lyrics. And no, I didn't go just for the free Jack Daniels.

They held it at The Compound this year, one of the ATL's hotter clubs, which has undergone a major renovation since the last time I graced their doors. Originally it was three installations with a open air garden in front, now the first buildings have been combined and they've added a lot more couches and polish to the whole thing. It was rather impressive. Like out of a music video impressive.

Art Beats and Lyrics is the kind of show I would have to had dragged Sporty too, but once she got there she would have been like 'cool'. I've been a few times, met a few artists - some of whom's art now adorns my walls - and had a very good time. It's a combination Art show, mini-concert and party. There are little attractions, like the light graffiti wall you can "paint on" and a visualizer of some kind I didn't want to get into to do something(?), and this interactive thing hooked up to an XBOX Kinect. Spaced throughout the venue are the art installations, some adorned with price tags (didn't see the artists this time though) from up and comers with proper art names like Kaz, Hebru Brantley, Doubleyoo, Dres13, and A Squid Called Sebastian.

Oh, and free Jack Daniels.

Here are a few shots from show. I like how it all wasn't one style, but an good mix.

In the end though, I got "Ritz crackered".

This is a reference to the old Eddie Murphy joke where he compares not having sex long period of time to not eating for a long period of time, to the point where if someone gave you cracker, that same cracker would be delicious, possibly the best tasting cracker ever. Maybe even a Ritz cracker.

Now, because I had not been going out as of late...to pretty much anywhere except a friends house or two...I forgotten something very important about this city. I believe author Dan Jenkins put it best, in saying "That if in Atlanta on a Friday night you can't meet a woman you'd leave your wife for, then you didn't leave the house." What that boils down to is that there are some very attractive women in Atlanta. But in my many years of going out, I had developed a more refined taste. I needed more than just a cute face, I needed personality, intelligence, a sense of purpose, etc. A whole woman (.i.e., Sporty). But at ABL, it was like I hadn't eaten in months.  And then someone put a whole sleeve of Ritz crackers in front of me. Have I been out of the game that long?

In the end, good night out. True, I was home by 10:30pm...on a Friday...in Atlanta. But baby steps man, baby steps!

Side note: The show goes through DC on November 16th.

So was a good night out. I realized I'm little too old to be doing this regular. I got other priorities , other things I need to focus on. Shole was fun though. Maybe I'll just dabble a bit.

Barkeep. Yes, I will be have the Jack and coke. No, not in the cool pre-mixed bottles, but in a glass. Age has it's privileges.

Friday Night, just got paid...

Ramblings Post #176
Things change. The only constant is change. And that which once was becomes what it will be, which by virtue of time is always in flux. Except for Twinkies and love. Then its every man for himself.

There was in time in my life when Friday meant something.

We got free donuts at the job. I would pop up at the Happy Hour given by the spot of the minute. I could relax at a Game night with my people. Or at the bare minimum, the promise of the hot (or lazy) weekend.

But no more. I chose to go back and get my education, to better myself, to increase my depth. And so for the past few years, Friday has been more a gateway to more intense studying. All it really took was one long “after drunk” - not a hangover, but still feeling out of sorts - to tell me that heading out and drinking on Friday wasn’t the best possible plan if I actually intended to graduate. So, many a Friday I would pick up a book to get my reading started before my Saturday homework periods.

But this time, one of my old partners was in town celebrating her big four oh, the spot wasn’t that far from the house and it started early enough that I could swing in, commiserate and be out in less than an hour. I know this plan, and the outcome. But that trick NEVER works! This time for sure.

Her gathering is at Mingles, a fairly new little eatery in downtown. I get off work at seven-ish, get there around seven thirty. I’m just gonna dip in and say hi to a few folks, whoo whoo, figure I’d be out by eight or eight thirty by the latest.

Only I’m the only one there.

Mingles via BBerry...from our lonely perch.

So it’s me and the birthday girl at the bar for an hour and half. She’s quietly working up a slow fury and I’m trying to not look like a complete and utter ass by getting up and walking out. We’re in an odd little dance. It’s not helped that besides her group, there are five other....much more well attended... parties going on at the same time. Mingles is a small place, essentially one big room, and as she’s watching for her people to arrive, this isn’t lost on her.

To keep it lively, she keeps pointing out the patrons as they enter, and commenting in a fashion that can only be deemed as both evil and hilarious.

“She can’t walk in heels. She how she moves.”

“How do you do that? Have dreads from the sides but have bald patches on top.”

“If she sneezes, she’ll pop out of the dress. Give me some pepper, its about to be a show.”

Even as I both laughed and felt a little sad for her, she reminded me of the other aspect of night life I had missed, and why I don’t go out as much any more. A lot of the women she talked about, and she talked about a lot of them, where in their "Friday uniform" - mini skirt or mini-dress, heels and makeup. And they were looking nice.

Very nice.

When two of her girls finally did show up, I reminded her about my Saturday morning class and headed out. I got home just in time to have wrecked the whole evening. I tightened up my opening statement a bit, an hour or two, then hit the hay so I could get up early to work on it some more before class.

The moral of the story? I guess is that there is a lot beauty out there. In mini-skirts. But I’m focused, trying to keep my eyes on the prize, and so all that is out of my focus right now. And Mingles ain't even the hot spot!

Barkeep. Water. I need to keep my wits about me!

Just like riding a bicycle

Ramblings Post #76
If you've been doing something for a while, you tend to get good at it. I've been at the current job for seven years and at this point, I can condense five or six hours of work into two intense hours. You do learn it and know it. But I've been hanging out since I was ...well, let's just say I've closed out my second decade. I've had my good time, some of your good time, and I'm borrowing against someone else's good time. And so though I've been away from the "game" for a minute with school, when we lace'em up and hit the hardwoods, I'm still hitting three's from the top of the arc. Rebounding still not so hot.

I hadn't been out and about in a long time. With work, school, studying for school, sleeping and the occasional bathroom trip, I really haven't had the time. I'm guessing Sporty and I would have been Monday night or Sunday night regulars had she still been in town. But with three weeks of the kicking it until I head back to the legal gulag, it was amazing how fast it all came back to me.

Friday night at 5:30, I'm still at the office messing around when my RP calls from 5 years ago. By that I mean: There is a party happening somewhere in Atlanta right now or in the next hour, this is the host, here is the address or some directions and... go! We hadn't saddled up and rode like that in a while.

So I run by the house and spiff up a touch then roll out to the Christmas party for an Atlanta law firm being held in the event space on the 50th floor of 191 Peachtree Tower. Which means things haven't changed all that much. Back in the day the invite would be a mansion somewhere or an invitation only spot where my name would somehow end up on the guest list, so the only thing that has happened is that we've gotten older.

The spot is nice, the usual crowd is in attendance and apparently women can smell the legal on you. I wasn't there 10 minutes before I'm chatting with a few chicks and getting the look from a few more. I want to say I worked it like the smooth player that I am, but the reality is I'm so out of the game I put myself on the bench a few times that evening, not sliding in like I know I can when confronted with a possibility.

Saturday Sporty hits me and surprise, she's going to be in town the week of Christmas. Which is like WOW. I'm not sure what's going on. But I do know it means I have to clean up the house like for real. And just when I was going to break out and do the little bit of shopping (I'm a college student, and I'm broke so the operative word was little) .

Saturday night was....how can I describe this? Long? Tiring? Interesting? Saturday night we had the annual "Come as you are" Cocktail party. We invite our folk, we gather some toys for children and have a nog to celebrate the passing of another year. Okay, we gather up as much alcohol as we can, crank up the beat and let it all hang out until we can't take it no more. We're closing in a decade with this party, and it just keeps getting bigger. Then the Cowboys beat the Saints and the night is just looking all spectacular! I also broke a personal rule and went out for the third night in a row. I'm getting too old to keep doing this, and a while back I said that three nights in a row was just showing off...but here I was again.

Out at the "Mansion", we set up the DJ booth, iced down the drinks and got started around 8pm. I was still serving at 3am. I know we don't do it as often as we used to, but I need to talk to RP about the good ole days when we'd shut it down around 1am just because.

At this point I'd like to ask God why he sends them all at once.

So I'm at the party and who should pop up by...let's call her Swift. I've known Swift for a while, about my age, from NY with a noticeable accent, and apparently...really into me. I ran into her last summer but we were just passing ships in the night. So she pops up a Christmas time. She and her buddies stayed until long after the set was over, hanging out and dancing and all the other after party futzing around that happens when the party's over but you want to play that one more song, or do that dance you hadn't done in a while. Swift seemed like suddenly she was interested instead of our normal flirting and then "see ya" we normally do.

So like, what's going on? I mean really going on...

I think I'm reading way too much into anything right now. I'm suddenly missing the mindless intensity and attention to detail of law school, and that's saying something.

Barkeep...Tall glass of Ice Water. Make it a double.

Nights out in SPACE...

Ramblings Post #74
They don't miss you until you're gone, and you don't realize how much you had until you've wasted it. None of that applies here. After a long semester, and a longer final (Ha!) I'm back on the scene with a gangsta lean...temporarily. Until January I'm back in the game, just hoping to get in a few reps and maybe score a TD or two without having to resort to the trick plays. We'll see. Until then...here we go!

So, for the first Friday in three months that I don't have anything to do, I put on my spiffy and head out to Serve's birthday party. She's holding it with S-to be-named at a little spot on the Southwest side of Atlanta called SPACE.

It's the Space in SPACE...which isn't all that much.

SPACE is one of those spots that frequently pop up in Atlanta. I'd been to Rathbuns and Krog bar and a host of other spots that 125 years ago, or 5 years ago, used to be something industrial and so it has lots of raw space. And if you polish the concrete floor, seal the windows and put in some heat and A/C, then stick in a kitchen and bar and you turn around and you've got a restaurant/lounge. SPACE is exactly that. All that's missing is the "authentic" Atlanta Heritage Building concept, in that it "used to be" this specific historical spot. That and it's missing decent parking.

The evening starts off funny. I'm picking up Slim, who suddenly no longer is. We spend fifteen minutes at her house because suddenly nothing fits anymore. Then because the eVite says the party starts at 7pm, we breeze in at 8pm...and are an hour early because the party doesn't really start until 9pm. No worries, the spot has food and bar so I figure we can amuse ourselves for an hour. So I ask the waitress if the bar has any whiskey worth talking about. She doesn't know but goes to check. There selection is piss poor, so I order the basic with some Sprite. Then, she looks me dead in my eye and asks seriously: "Do you want them in separate glasses?"

That became the joke of the evening.

Slim and I argued over her bad instructions until S-to-be-named showed up and went over what the evite was supposed to have said. We then all decided that somewhere else in Atlanta there was a birthday party happening that Slim had agreed to be at, and that they probably were very salty with her for not showing up.

Then came the next great joke of the evening. SPACE was hosting three seperate events that evening, the birthday party I was attending, a second birthday party in the back room and what I guess was a third birthday party. There may have been a fourth event, I really wasn't paying attention. But what are the odds, as it turns out the party in the back room: I know those guys. And the chicks with the third birthday party: I know them too!

I go to one spot and run into three events where I know someone? The term Atlanta is too small quickly comes to mind. That or I know entirely too many people. So I spent the evening bouncing back and forth from party to party, seeing a great deal of folks I hadn't seen in ages. The space, as most spaces are, was laid out improperly to maximize the crowd flow, but then that's great for meeting people. It was a pretty fun night.

I almost got my swagger back. Then i remembered I hate that term, so I decided to get something else back.

Barkeep...first, I want the liquor and the soda in the same glass....okay? Now....

Atlanta 2009

Ramblings Post #39
I once left a message on Spanky's phone that consisted of me running out the allotted time (and it must have been five or eight minutes) with me simply repeating the word "Chicken" over and over, with different pronunciations for variety. I think I might have been mildly deranged. This memory has just about nothing to do with the post that follows, but I thought it needed to be said.


I miss Atlanta

Which is an odd statement for me to make, considering I live in Atlanta. And I don't mean I live in one of the many far flung suburbs of the jewel of the south, so far away that technically you only visit Atlanta every so often, but still can claim it. No, I live inside of I-285, or as we say "inside the perimeter". I can be at the back of GA tech, midtown Atlanta, in less than 10 minutes if I get the lights.

Like most places I have ever lived, it's one of those towns where exciting things are happening if you know where to go. There are festivals, concerts, they show movies in the park at night, there are a thousand little bistros and boutiques, there are classes you can take and plays to see, plucky little live bands, performance pieces and and art enclaves and cafes and it's just a vibrant city that just feels alive. And for the past eleven months I haven't seen any of it, my days consumed with work, my evenings with school and my weekends with studying. And by going part-time, I have agreed to do this for the next three or more years, nearly eleven months out of the year. Which sucks.

And since the many varied reasons I agreed to attend law school: I needed a mental challenge, all my friends are lawyers, I'm tired of my job, etc and so on, don't really add up to a love for all things legal, that last kick of what made me finally bite the bullet looms large.

I went to law school partly to help me forget Sporty.

Which sounds trite, until you consider how many other things in my life (and probably in yours too) that you initally started for the weakest of reasons ( I was bored, it was Tuesday, I had a ton of peanut butter and goat cheese, etc) but later came to love and to eventually master. Looking at my classmates, I begin to believe I made one mistake however, as I was already behind the curve in so many other aspects of a complete life: only just bought the house, single and apparently staying that way, no kids, no real investment portfolio. etc. And when I consider the time and energy that will be needed at the end of the "educational aspect" trying to get established....

...let's just say unless fate and an accident happens, my mother shouldn't look forward to grand kids anytime soon.

I think a lot this comes from that upcoming birth milestone which I when I was twenty five seemed like a million years away, but no I talk to women in my age group who have kids in college, and my mind kind of twitches. Let's just say I'm not where I intended to be, geographically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally....fill in any more -ally's you can think of. And the focus I'm going to have to give law school is going to cripple everything else for while.

Which puts getting up to the curve of where my life is supposed to be that much further off of the makeup schedule. At least before, when I was behind the curve, I was having so much fun I didn't really notice.

*sigh*

Barkeep, i need to sip from the fount of wisdom, and sup from the well of peace. No? Do you have whiskey then?

A Weekend Out - Second Stage

Mental Rehab Post #8
Sitting around the house ain't gonna fix nothing. The problem is you have to want to be fixed and I think I'm still just going through the motions. But my acting is getting better, and the I'm starting to find the shadows again. Ah the stage.


Last weekend I spent prepping, then attending and then recovering from a single party. What can I say, we does it big. 500 people at a house party may seem like an end all be all to you, but if my instincts are right the fellas are already scheming up the next function.

One of the signs I'm getting old is when I think 500 people might just be too many. I say we keep it to a nice level 75 or 100, but then I don't usually have full control of the guest list.

This weekend was the second in getting my mind back to right...well, the appearance of getting my mind back to right.

Friday was the Jack Daniels event, a fusion of art, music and whatever else was happening in that room called Art, Beats and Lyrics. With free Jack Daniels. I got there right as they were starting, and maybe next time I'll read the invitation. Although apparently I wasn't the only one, as there were three or four kids in line when the invite specifically said "no one under 21". That fabulous the rules don't apply to me mentality.

Inside they had those annoying fake guitars setup and apparently you could tap the keys in feel like a rock star for three minutes. Oh Wow. Then I walked through the smoke wall and things picked up.

The room is huge, although the last time I was in the same room with a Old School Saturday event I promise you it felt much much bigger. Back then it felt like an aircraft hanger, now it just feels like a barn. On little three corner stands they've got art setup by local artists. And it's some good stuff too.

Soul Brother #1 and then some.

Blackstar and his pieces.

I chat with a guy whose artistic moniker is Blackstar about a few pieces and even see about some commission work. He's got some colorful pieces which will offset the black and white I have from other favorite artist, who oddly is setup in the next space. I can't spot him, but I know I need to holler at him to see I can pickup a few more prints.

A few of photo exhibits looked good. I get a card before I realize I'm fantasizing about a mundane activity that's not going to happen. I keep the card anyway.

The Race Card

The set is nice. Gentlemen Jack Daniels for the free-free, a nice set of art, some good artwork on the walls too, they got a live band coming on later, with a DJ and break dancing to open. It's a throwback kinda festive and you can just chill.

Only I can't I've promised to meet on old college buddy who I haven't seen in years for drinks a little later. So although the JD thing is looking live, I slip out a side door and whip down to the Ultimate Bar on Camp Creek Parkway. For those who are unaware, the development on Camp Creek is North Atlanta development finally come to the Southside of town.

I get there and my first thought...seriously...is that Dugan's went upscale kinda moved to Camp Creek and setup shop (It's an Atlanta concept, sorry. I'll explain later). I run into my old buddy and we share a few beers and talk noise to chicks at the next table half seriously for the next two hours - he's married, I'm in recovery. Then I accidentally try to pick up the 20 year old waitress who has three jobs. Don't see that one happening though for a variety of reasons. Nah.

Saturday is a little reading and a little me time. Okay, a little wake up and then fall back to sleep on the couch time until I have to go catch Schmoopy for brunch. Afterwards I think brunch might not have been the best idea, as I end up back on the couch. Way too much food. Okay, the fact that it's 95 degrees in my house and maybe 85 degrees outside might have had something to do with it. My uncle is supposed to helping me out, but when you're getting help you're at the mercy of their schedule. That and his AC works. So really once I got back to the house I'm laid out sweating like below decks on the Amistad. I didn't even bother to call looking for trouble. Which I understand I could have easily found. Stayed in.

Sunday...I cleaned up. Did a bunch of Laundry. Watched a Jack Lemmon movie on TMC (that is a great channel). Did my "homework". Forgot to eat until almost 8pm. Talked to my folks a little bit. Then talked to God. Yeah, thought about Sporty. Can't help it.

Still got a long way to go.

A Weekend Out

Personal Rehab Post #5
I'm starting to not like quiet times, for in those quiet moments I start to ask that question that will probably plague me for the rest of my life: "Why wasn't I good enough?" It's one of those things that will pick at the back of mind quite possibly until it drives me mad.

This post is about my first major rehab outing. It's a little lengthy.

Well I'd spent a few weeks in relative seclusion, eschewing outings and get togethers and generally trying to pull together a semblance of cool before venturing back out into the wilds of social Atlanta. It's been a long strange trip and since I've apparently got to get back on the trail I started with an annual event: my RP's birthday party.

RP is short for Running Partner, which in the parlance of area is people I run around with. In your area, it may phrased as your hang out buddies, your chums, them folks you know, or friends. I ran into him when I moved to Atlanta and we just got along, so it's like that.

The birthday party is an annual event consisting of fine mix of ...er...well, it's a social gathering that...er...um... it's a huge party with about as close to a Circus atmosphere that you can get to before people get naked. One year we shut down his subdivision throwing it. I mean it's huge. Rough estimates put the usual crowd at 200-250 people, and this is for a house party. At a single house. My RP know a lotta folk.

Enough background, in food prep my RP said he would be doing everything the night before. Because sitting around all day Saturday waiting is less than a desirable activity, I volunteered to cook everything that morning. I happen to like grilling and so I offered to spen Saturday morning burning a little something. I bought the supplies, marinated the meat overnight, got my extras and showed at Event Site Zero at 9am. I've been having trouble sleeping lately so this was an accomplishment.

I cleaned the grill. Which apparently had never been cleaned.


I watched them clean the pool.



I keep saying we threw the party because only two days seperates my birthday and RPs, so usually it's a birthday party for us both even though I recognize I'm the undercard. Second billing at your own birthday party you say? How awful? It's a matter of opinion I guess. Wait, wasn't my birthday last month you ask. Well, yes it was, but this is the first free weekend we've been able to schedule, and since we've had it up to two weeks in advance, a little later isn't the worst thing we could have done. In the parlance of our situation, RP is strategic, I'm the tactical.

So I cooked. I cooked the chicken, I cooked the chicken...the hotdogs, the wings, the ribs. From roughly 10am to 4pm I worked a little outside cooking magic. Almost burned my hand a few times, didn't have all my usual grilling tools (used a kitchen fork and one spatula), wings didn't want to cook right taking for freaking ever, damn coals died down before I was all the way done. Man, it was great to get back out there again.

Handy tip: When grilling the bird - get the chicken fingers or tenders. They cook up so fast and easy it's scary.


So I got there early and cooked all day. Then I went home and showered and headed back out because I was also tending bar, which is another of my fine talents. Yes, I was gonna work at this joint to. There is a method to my madness, a trade secret or two that I won't go into but let's just say it works very well for me.

With your normal crowd of 200 I'm in good stead. I mix up Apple martini's and Cosmopolitans, keep the beer in a side tub so it's serve yourself, create fruity little mixtures that put a smile on the pretty girl's faces and get a chance to chat while I'm serving. If we start at around 7pm, I'll generally get a crowd, then a lull, then a second crowd, another lull and so on until I'll shut the drinks down around 1am. At which point it's down to the folks who actually came to party and not just spectate, which is a pretty fun crowd. And whereas the bar might be closed to speed people in the mindset of leaving eventually, folks we know can always "find" a drink. So we've got a plan.

So I start setting out the drinks. People who ain't seen me in a minute tell me I'm looking good, lost weight and all that. A few of my female friends give me a hug and we joke a bit. My mind isn't on other things.

And setting out the drinks. A few women I hadn't seen in a long while invite me to their party next week, another girl tells me about another party she wants me to go to, I'm steady pouring the drinks and talking, even doing some flirting on automatic. Getting the old mojo back to working, ya know?

And setting out the drinks. And setting out drinks. Wait a second, what the? Where is that lull I was counting on? Now we'd thrown the party at Event Site Zero because it's a large house on 12 acres (plenty of parking), it has a pool and a jacuzzi, game room downstairs, and the owner is cool. 12 acres sounds like a lot, hmmm? We ran out of parking. RP's current head count of the crowd is somewhere near 400. Or 600. He's lost track. People at the bar are telling me they parked at the Fire Station, which is a good half to three quarters of a mile away from the front gate (never mind the additional walk from the street) and I have two assistants helping me serve. Your selections have boiled down to: "Light or dark, which one do you want?" It's getting crazy.

Faces blurred cause I don't where they claimed to be.

When I was younger, we would throw a party and before too long we'd run out of liquor. We were broke and trying to have a good time. Now as adults we have a party and before too long we run out of chaser. Very few still have the cojones to bring just a bottle or two of juice. I try to anticipate this, but my expectation was considerably fewer people. So at one point have a single bottle of cranberry juice my co-bartenders and I are passing back and forth between the three of us. Madness.

As I said, normally one would shut the bar down around 1am. I had somebody go find RP and I told him we were shutting it down at 11:30. At least we never ran out of ice. The bartending gig went from fun aside to a South Geogia version of the Bataan Death March only with liquor and girls in bikinis in a mere matter of hours. Okay maybe not that bad because we did have some cuties. But I'm sweating like I'm in a sauna and praying that we run out of cups.

After that I guess the party started getting good: I hyped up the impromptu swim meet. Spent a hot moment in the hot tub (okay, I got in and the women didn't get out - and the water was hot. Technicality). Walked around in my footie socks and told people it wasn't my house for no reason at all (women kept offering to help me find my shoes). And at 2am I somehow got into an oblique discussion with a very defensive vegan republican with a me complex.

Okay, it wasn't all good.

Not sure if I'm up to an event where I don't have something else to focus on though. Truth be told that's pretty much what made this work. A whole night of concentration of other things. Without the distractions, well...I'm not sure.

All this for that hollow feeling at the end of the night. But then I'm working on the outside. Inside ain't gonna be right for a while.

Barkeep. Water. Yeah, I'm getting back but it's a step by step process.

Another Saturday Night

So last night after a nothing day my folk call up and say let's go to Old School Saturday. I hadn't been in like forever...at least a year...so I was like cool. Only this chick is like let's not go till late. Well the doors open at 9 and she don't want to go till like 11:30. So I'm skeptical this even gonna happen.

I kill the evening, run up to Five Guys for a burger, futz around the computer, etc and so on. Shower and shave and I'm ready at 11:00. Then she gets lost on the way to my house. So now she's running late, and we got to pick one more person - Slim - who keeps calling talking about she's gonna fall asleep if we don't get there soon. Slim and I both have cars and why we waited is beyond me. We scoop and end up rolling up to the spot - The Westin Hotel - at like midnight or twelve thirty.

And I remember why I don't go Old School no more.

Old School started out of the remains of First Friday. When those idiots took a cash business to court over who got what and the judge asked to see the books... well let's just say that was the end of that. A few of the guys who were a part of that group got together and started this new gig, Old School Saturdays. All the music is at least 15 - 20 years old, no new stuff. When it started you could hold it in a restaurant...and not move a bunch a tables. Then they moved up to clubs...now they get the ballroom at the local hotels. And pack them. Wall to wall. Seriously.

So when we got there it was again wall-to-wall and the line was wrapped around itself. At 12:30am. For a party that ends at 2am. And they're charging $20. And there are two guys in cream gators and bowler hats. And a chick at least 300lbs in short shorts. After that it gets less pretty.

I am not feeling this.

So we hang out for a minute then say fuck it and hit the hotel bar get a few to hang out for while, only... they just had last call ON A SATURDAY at 1am. But the waitress is all college girly like we're closed but you can go up to to the bar on 73 and get a drink, they're open till like 2 at least. So we say cool, and wander over but something looks fishy. Wasn't this hotel hit by a tornado like a few weeks ago? The bar on 73 - the Sundial - still doesn't have windows! I check and the front desk is like the Sundial is closed.

I am so not feeling this.

So we hang out so more, talk about folks as we sit in the lobby and call it an evening. We didn't stop for breakfast or go no place else or nothing. Oh, and dropped my wallet in ole girl's car so I'm stuck like chuck till she calls back.

Great weekend. Whoooo. Not feeling it at all. Hey, I like the guys who run it...and their motivation is to make a few bucks so more power to them, pack'em deep! But they just need to call me when they're next thing starts. I'll run through that.

Barkeep...hey! What do you mean last call was thirty minutes ago?

Blackout?

I did a quick poll of the my fellow workers in the office, and a few of them are going to participate in the National Blackout that's going on today. My online buddies have already admitted to not being compliant.

Which makes the whole thing pointless.

I've gotten a little tired of the historical black leaders, the theoretical president and vice-president of Black people - Jesse and Rev. Al - who fifty years later still want to march and boycott to show strength. They worked then. In specific instances and under specific circumstances they were very effective in showing the power and solidarity of a people disrespected. But just as we set the tools of the that day and age aside in lieu of new tools, so we must do the same with these.

Should we never boycott or march again? Sometimes the old tool is the best tool for the job, so there will come a time when they are most appropriate. This is not that time.

Current estimates set the spending power of the target group at 2 to 3 billion per day. Real money to those whose minds are consumed with small thoughts. To put it in perspective, the US government lost 9 billion dollars in Iraq last year, lost as in "we don't know who we gave it to - we don't know where it is now. That was 9 billion in CASH. Not credits or monies paid toward or contracts promised... billions of actual paper dollars. And nobody's that concerned.

Last year Walmart had billion dollar sales on SINGLE days.

A famous congressional anecdote goes that, "a few billion here, a few billion there, and pretty soon you're talking about real money" when discussing funding of bills and projects.

The amount we're talking is a drop in the bucket. To small minds a billion or two is ridiculous money. To the people whose minds we hope to change, it is pocket money. The stakes have changed, and the rules of the game must change with with it. The people with purpose must wrap their minds that the world has change. They dream of being Martin and leading the people, but even brother Martin would realize that those things that once worked so well need to put aside for other times.

And let's not get started on the modern March, which we turn into throwback road-trips and excuses to miss work. I listened to students boarding the bus for Jena with hardly a clue as to why they were traveling.

And since the whole project not a unified effort, it's effectiveness is questionable. Wholly questionable.

In an economy with a large number of people living check to check, stockpiling supplies for a few days really wasn't an option. It's payday Friday for a large number of Americans. Children need things and sales start today. The black American icon Denzel Washington's movie debuts today, and opening day receipts are crucial.

And a number of people enjoy the nightlife. The nightlife at black owned businesses.

Which gets me to the crux of my point. The vast majority of the people joining the protest generally tend to focus their dollars at black owned or black focused businesses already. So those businesses are the ones that will suffer as we cry into the wind.

And what was the point of that?

If we must make a statement, then let's make it. But let's find a new approach, a new language, a new tool to get our point across.

Barkeep - Do you have any ripple?

Back in Stride again...

Man am I glad it's Monday. Straight from a four day parley and getting back to work is refreshing.

Thursday night - Vino Libro in East Side Village & Leopard Lounge.

Vino is a wine/tapas bar that looks so damn comfy. The chairs are low and the drinks are strong. Leopard was well, Leopard on an Thursday. Wall to wall and damn fun.

Friday night - Chivas Studio & Strip.
Chivas Regal gave away free drinks, with live music and gourmet food. And nobody came. If they had fifty people in there I would have been surprised. But the drinks were strong plus. Strip is done by the way...they almost had more security than patrons.

Saturday night - House party
Ten minutes from calling it a night, a got a call with directions and walked in on a phat party down off Campbellton Road. The bartender had on red hot pants and fishnets, they had trays of food left, and a stripper pole in the basement.

Sunday afternoon - House accident
It wasn't planned, but over at my partner's spot we ended up getting a little foolish. The Cowboys won, the folks got a little raucous and fun was had by all. Except ole girl who swore her booty was 39, until we broke out the tape measure.

It was that kinda night.

Barkeep - Water. I've been drinking for four days.

The FAMU-TSU Atlanta Classic - Day Plus 2

In that middle, you just knew I was gonna be reporting in from the field diligently.

Suckers!

Friday - Went out for drinks with co-workers in preparation for the massive hangout. Went to a seedy bar in Marietta around the corner from the job where none of the chairs seemed 100%, they served $4 beers in little teeny ass cups and everybody smoked. Sorry, I associated smoking with herb, and that in turn leads to some chick giving me head.

This didn't look like that kinda spot. I hung out for an hour, but something wasn't feeling right. I got the house, took a shower and had to lay down.

Saturday - Got the call to ride out early, but didn't make it. Showed up at the game and realized that my master plan - buy the cheapo ticket and run into folks - was extremely flawed. I used to say if I went to the dome it was Club Level or better, and now I remember why. Since the dome closed the bar on the 50-yard line, going to the games hasn't been the same. And my age group has upgraded. Afterward, the game (which FAMU won with a blocked field goal in the final seconds) I stopped by a friends house for her family reunion, then stopped by another friends house for his belated birthday function.

Sunday - not a damn thing happened. Sporty was working her second job, my girl called me back over to get some the grub they missed at the FR, and I wrangled with my lack of satellite.

I did however cook a nice steak and baked potato for dinner. Damn that was good. Chocolate pudding for dessert.

Well, that was it. Maybe I am getting old, this used to be a lot more exciting.

Barkeep - Scotch. Glenfiddich. neat.

The FAMU-TSU Atlanta Classic - Day Minus 1

Thursday...Dateline - The Hennesey Event.

What if you gave away free top shelf liquor, free gourmet food, and hot new entertainment and nobody came? It looked like it for a moment, when I bopped into the event and lo and behold it was nearly EMPTY. The little girls in sundresses were stopping me when I had a drink in hand to ask if I wanted another. The bartender was pouring the drinks so strong I had to ask her to lighten it up a bit. Okay it started at nine, which was little funny, and ended after midnight on a week night... but the kind of folks they invited were the kind that could call it in on Friday if need be.

Funny moment this cutie in a black lace dress makes eye contact with me for few seconds, I smile back and tell her that her man is very lucky...you should have seen this dress...and even as lean back this dread locked brother steps in. I'm not paying attention but I look back that way a few minutes he's got his celly out getting numbers...oh kay. I don't say anything, it's not my place, I don't even know her. But we make eye contact a few minutes later and apparently she felt she had to explain herself. She comes over and tells me it's not what I think. I assure her I have an open mind, and ask her the question I ask all women..."Are you happy?". Oddly she then asked me my sign. Maybe I should have asked her age.

From there with the crowd looking considerably better, after Chrisette Michele performed, I breezed over to Leopard Lounge.

And the girl told me it was $20 to get in if I didn't want to wait in line.

Pay money? To get in the Leopard on a Thursday? Or stand in a line? Are you fookaying kidding me? I had to go to work the next morning....actually, be on the track the next morning...so I demurred.

It feels good to be back in stride...

I skipped Shout (which I heard was horrible), the Grape (I didn't need to see everybody the first day), Noir (it was that or the Hennessy thang) and Verve (which I also understand was light, but it was Thursday..Friday is there night.)

Barkeep, get me some gin and tang...I'm feeling frisky.

The start of something big.

If you go out in Atlanta, you generally want to go the hot spot. The spot where everyone is or wants to be. The place where everybody wants to see and be seen. Where there is a line of folks waiting to be part of the IN crowd.

I generally have been there and am gone long before that.

I did Fridays at the W for Jazz before you couldn't breathe up in the spot.
I did Twist before they started charging.
I did Compound when the original promoters made Friday's hot.

Old School Saturdays? Back when they could have it in a restaurant.
Leopard Lounge? First time I went they had twenty folks.
Verve? They hadn't even finished construction.
Strip? Back when you could move.
Barleys? Before they put the band in on Fridays..
The Mark? Two club names ago...

Don't get me wrong some of my haunts never made it, some stayed on the low, others are still threating to blow up.

Why is that? Why do I get there like the advance scout team? I want to say it's because I'm always on the cutting edge, looking for the next great hangout or spot, ahead of the curve in style and fashion. But...

...that's not true.

I guess I'm just adventurous. I've been to Atlanta's Latin Clubs, Rock Clubs, Swing Clubs (the sex swinging), the Blues Clubs, and I guess I've just gotten lucky. I tend to like a spot before it gets crazy. Or rather before people show up expecting it be crazy, which is a whole different group from the people who come to have a good time and crazy things happen.

It's tough to explain.

Which spot is next? I couldn't tell you.

Barkeep, I'll need the Knob Creek, with just a dash of spite. Don't bruise it.

I used to be on the edge.

Let's see, in the last ten days I was invited to BED for cocktails and magazine launch (didn't go & I don't remember the magazine either), to a mansion party for William McCray's new TV show, Obnoxious (didn't go, forgot), a "soft" promotion for a club re-opening (it was slow), a hot Christmas party ( that Ruffin fella throws a party ), a private Christmas party on Saturday, the usual slew of club dates - Thursday at Django, Old School Saturdays, Red Tie at Einsteins, Barley's billiards live music or Friday, M Bar on Wednesdays, Urban Soul Cafe ...and countless NYE parties.

There was a time I would have hit nearly every thing listed here...okay, I might have missed one of the NYE parties.

I wish I could pass along the words of wisdom, but my new junior running partner, aptly nicknamed "Bait" is getting me back out there. I'm getting older and chasing them around the club has never been my thing, I need to draw them in to the sparkling personality. He's new to the ATL and seems to be stunned at how much is going on and where the truly live stuff is...for free.

As a side note, I usually don't pay for anything. Most nights in Atlanta, somebody somewhere is giving away the farm for free to put the word out, and since I'm hooked into the word I usually know about it. It's a vicious circle - you kinda have to be out to be able to get invited, but since they're only inviting folks who come out, they're really only moving the circle around. I'm used to a) complementary valet b) no cover - guest list c) free drinks d) free food e) hot,loose women and d) a complimentary gift bag for coming through.

Don't you wish you knew.

I think I'm ATL nightlife spoiled. Every party is hot or I know where the next one is. Or I've seen these chicks before, let's roll out. I've gotten to the age where all the phone numbers I didn't call back, women I ignored or whose name I forgot is starting to catch up with me. Atlanta is big but not that big.

I'm starting to see that familar edge in the distance...do I really want to go back?