101 Get-a-'bout alley...

“Brushes with Waits-ness”

My submission: 1997, I was running a coffee house on Sunset Boulevard near La Cienega. He walked in while I was behind the counter. Tom was with a coupla’ guys and waited in line, lookin’ a little restless.
I believe I did an fine job of concealing my giddiness, and kept a stone face. Then Tom moved around the people and approached me,
“...is there any other place around here besides you and Starbucks?”
I answered, “nope, and Ben Franks is now the ‘one that got away’.” (‘cuz, ya see, Ben Franks, which was next door to this location was mentioned in his song 'The One That Got Away'. It had closed and become a “Mel’s Diner”…oh, how clever am I)

He growled at me drug back to his place in line. Up until this I would say it was perfect Waits form. But then he approached the cashier he asked for a non-fat decaf cappuccino. That was unexpected. Yet, I still tackled and pushed the 19 year old working at the espresso machine outta’ the way to prepare it with my own sycophantic pride.

I had to document this before it slipped from whiskey soaked memory cells…

Am I an art-fag?

Yes, I did hit the fetish balls when they were peaking out here (97-99) and I still recharge at Bar Sinister from time to time. You may be like me, I grew up (‘round 16yrs –20yrs) going to “Mixed Clubs”, straight/gay/dance. I embraced the irony of The Dead Milkmen's release "Instant Club Hit", and skimmed around the "art-fag" persona.  They did’nt apply the term “Goth” at that time. Sado-Masochism was oh so “oo-la-la”, and the mainstream treated movies like “The Nightporter” and bands like “Sisters of Mercy” as some sort of failed experimental performance art.

Now when I go to Dungeon or some other joint like it, it’s kinda’ like watchin’ the kids play on your front lawn. They’re so cute and they put so much into it. They have dusted off the old Bauhuas vinyl and make BDSM as common as massage therapy. I don’t know why, but I’m proud of the little posers. Is it wrong when an LA fetish bar feels like your living room? Not in décor, but just in comfort level? I mean, it’s as close as I can get to a misty southern church at midnight or my old front porch. (Yeah, that's what dry ice reminds me of)