Monday, December 13, 2004

Liquid Denizens

Thought I'd throw in a quick entry about the "Liquid Den", a bar whose Monday open mic night is frequently graced with my and Joe's presence. It's your basic hole in the wall dive bar, complete with more code violations than a house built by a corrupt blind contractor with one arm. The walls have some ancient blue paint that would probably be several shades lighter if somebody took the time to fire-hose the walls of their impenetrable grime crust. Apparently this particular dive couldn't afford a liquor license, so they serve beer and wine only. There are various pieces of furniture strewn about, some metal folding chairs, a few tables, and a multitude of busted, moldering couches that appear to have been dragged back against their will from the curb. In spite of (or perhaps because of) the preceding, the Liquid Den is a fantastic watering hole. However I believe its charm stems chiefly from the colorful clientele (many of which seem to be on loan from a local asylum).

One, who calls himself Conan, or Human, depending on who he's talking to, performs Gothic poetry. It's all very ... surreal would be a polite word I suppose (read: weird). Imagine, if you will, a man a couple inches under 6 ft, with unkempt (at best) hair, a stained black t-shirt with dragons on it, and filthy jeans. He also has a communication barrier. Not that he doesn't speak English. It's just that it seems as though if the conversation was a teeter-totter and you're up high in the air, he just jumps off his seat and wanders over to play on the swing. Whenever someone is doing a comedy bit on stage, if something the comedian says happens to remind him of his German friend whose father was a personal bodyguard to Adolf Hitler (this is something he actually said the other night), unfunny comedy segues into dysfunctional storytime. He can also be counted up to offer up little intellectual gems like: "Well, of course, because he's a descendant of his father".

Another, I'm not sure his name, it might be Davey, is a skinny dude with a goatee. He usually occupies the pool table, and certain things have been said by Liquid Den regulars that lead me to believe he has spent some significant time in prison and is a little touchy about it. I learned recently that this man, with the worst ADD I've ever seen (that he likes to talk, or more accurately shout, about when no one is listening), has two daughters, ages of 8 and 14. And apparently has a job. Who hired him, I do not know. He often laughs really loudly at something no one else probably heard, and likes to yell out comments while people are onstage that sound suspiciously as though he may possibly think that he is whispering (he is not, not by any stretch of the imagination). If he's not heroically drunk or ravaged on some wacky (as yet unclassified) drugs, then he has a medical condition that has not been discovered to this date.

There are a few other functionally challenged denizens of the Liquid Den, and perhaps I will spoon-feed your eye-sockets with more descriptions at some future date.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

aw man that place sounds fun!!! christmas in rochester is soon!!!!!!!!!!!! cant wait !!!
<3 paige

December 14, 2004 at 2:34 PM  

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