I wrote this long beautiful piece on an endless party at the Cafe NELA last nite. It was gorgeous, that piece. Then Facebook froze and the words dissolved into electrons so fuck it. Good party though. Great even. One of those parties that will flash before your eyes.
It was kinda like Al’s Bar
was but without the out of control berzerkness, puking and sexual tension. You know, old people. Fun old people, though. The guy next to me even fell off his barstool, right on his back. Wham! Thought he was knocked out. But he was just drunk. You could tell he was drunk because he said he wasn’t drunk. Not even ouch. Just I’m not drunk. That was Al’s Bar to me. Also, instead of the patio they had a whole glaucoma-free back yard with lawn chairs and booths that used to be where the stage is now. No photo booth, though, and even if they did I doubt anyone would fuck in it. Unlike Al’s.
But like Al’s, this had none of Raji’s
heroin chic. But like Raji’s, this place was comfortable. And like the Anti-Club
, it has a big open space out back. And like Mr T’s
, it had Duley. Though he wasn’t bouncing anybody here. Just playing drums. It happens.
Duley Toledo kicking out the jams.