NEEDLING

HAVING A QUICK DRINK BEFORE CLOCKING IN

Was just getting home from work and called Sean up responding to his message on my telephone machine to tell him that I would be checking in early this evening being that I gotta work early at the hotel tomorrow opening the house and closing it basically playing the aubergiste without the pay or the glory… when I decided to go on outside and grab a quick beer before nightfall.

A beer in a bar, that being one hundred percent different than a beer at home, both being good for what they are, for different reasons, having their pros and cons, both being enjoyable and absolutely necessary for the survival of the species.

I loly’d on down to the Follies… the Zorba having switched gear from Ringard to hip electronic cool people and in so doing raised the price of a beer, the Giraffe Puzzle being too far away and up the hill for just a single drink, the Bar-Hotel having been closed down by the city – with a socialist mayor no less – the Deux Chapeaux being a place I prefer to go accompanied – also it’s up the hill and then down the hill which is okay for going there but harder for coming back home – , the Timbeau Elephant, once my regular drinking hole, being too dark and rough drunk for a single drink… I was left with but a single choice, Les Follies.

So up the Belleville way I went to check in at the bar and order a demis from the local Follies bartender. Chairs spreading out onto the sidewalk three rows thick with people flowing in and out of the place. After my second glass, or the second half of my two part pint, a band of French rockers started playing. They were good. A mix of punk, rock-n-roll (they even did a French version of Jim Morisson’s “Whiskey Bar” though that wasn’t so good…), rai, Spanish guitar, all loaded up with some good sarcastic lyricism a la French. The usual musical cocktail for these parts, but these fellows were beating the rhythm good and healthy.

I was thinking. Things are good for me here in Belleville. Like I like it to be. Good mix of people. All kinds, all colors, all types, multitude of languages, all ages. You got your twenties crowd, sure, but that’s not all… others also, older others, and younger others on the terrace with moms and dads. Open French-windows out onto the sidewalk. People coming in and out. Kids running around. Rockers rocking shouting sarcastic lyrics. People drinking beers, shooting pastis, smoking fags. Nobody hiding from nobody. That’s just the way it is, the way you see it. No showing of I.D.’s to get into dark closed-in places so you might have the right to have a drink shamefully while cops roll around in their copmobiles on the streets just waiting for you to forget you can’t take a tall boy outside… get yourself thrown into the paddywagon. Closed windows, closed doors, walls shut in and confined into plastic air conditioning…

Here nobody cares. The place is open, come in if you want, lean against the car parked on the street if you want, loiter about on and off the sidewalk, bring your own booze as long as you don’t sit on the café’s chairs, or just continue your way to the next place if that's your demon... Be Free... Shit…

Long Live Belleville!