beowulf

Back in the nineties you could smoke in bars in nyc.

There was a sprawling basement in the lower east side. Middle of the block on the north side of one of the avenues. A? B? Is there even a First Avenue down there? I can’t remember. There’s Sixth avenue which is like a river splitting off the West Side. I think maybe Lexington Avenue is what would be Forth. Fifth Avenue that far south is the forgotten tail of the famous Fifth Avenue shopping or fashion district up in Midtown or perhaps further up. Broadway cuts through on a diagonal. There’s a Second Avenue. There is the Bowery which may be related to Third or what would be Third. It is concerning that I can’t remember. Trauma?

The club was called Beowulf and Sweet Lizard Illtet played there a bunch. The ventilation was non-existent. Your eyes would sting. Your lungs would ache. Don’t know if we yet cared how our clothing must have smelled at the end of it. Emilio fucked up his knee jumping off the stage there. Gus Henningberg, our lovely and troublesome at-times-manager got him with a rock star knee doctor who probably did the best anyone could.

One night after the show Tia Palmisano who had yet to evolve into Tia Sprocket came up and was begging me for twenty bucks for dope. I wouldn’t give it to her. I sucked. Told her I couldn’t bare to contribute to such a shitty practice or something of the sort. Not that I would always give a junkie money for a fix when they’re sick, but that one was a bad call. Being dope sick when you aren’t intending to isn’t going to help.

We’ve spoken once or twice over the years since then. It’s been nearly seven since she left the planet. Went flying. Transitioned. Left a mark. May have even apologized for it. She probably didn’t remember it. She was upbeat and excited about new songs. Playing guitar.

Did we talk? Did we talk on the phone? When was that? At one point our friend Nick Flood who is a magical irish cat who manifests and shares wealth of various sorts wanted us to collaborate.

Tia was a couple of years older and an order of magnitude more bad-ass. We first knew her from Gut Bank with Alice Genese and Karen Kuhl. And Mike Korman who mom famously complained about all the noise we made next door. Almost can’t describe it. Gut Bank. Three streams of music emerging from three local cunts, dripping into the Hoboken gutter, rolling down into the sewer, merging and arising like vapor out of grates in the street.

She taught me to be proud of being from Hoboken. As a teen, new yorkers were making me feel inferior.

Well maybe that is enough eulogizing for now. Emilio and Elaine’s dog transitioned today. Bajah. She was like sixteen. He was hoping Emilio was that they both all three were hoping that she could hold on until he got home from tour which happens tomorrow.

And Boo’s dad, Al, died in his ninety-ninth year.

20/07/2024