"We didn't mind his drinking and checking out the ladies," said a Galeria 409 patron. "But we drew the line at him singing Hank Williams. We had to escort him out the door."By Juan Montoya
(We were reminded of this post by an old friend and he asked we repost it just for fun. Here goes.)
First things first.
Last night, I attended the "Noche de Peña" shindig at Galeria 409.
While I was there, I ran into a lot of friends, including Laura and Adrian Foncerrada of La Mision (El Hueso Del Fraile now), and other literary personages. We joshed it up remembering old friends and times.
Did you know that La Mision was the name of a cafe/restaurant the Foncerradas opened in Southmost when they first got here? Adrian's Dad was also present and we spoke for a bit.
I was loud and jocular after three (or four?) glasses of vino tinto, a delightful concoction (two grapes, gently bruised) which the gracious (and vivacious) hostess filled to the brim. I had learned of the event through a friend (which shall remain unnamed for his safety), and after having watched the Cincinnati Bengals stage an unbelievable comeback against the Pittsburgh Steelers at the Palm Lounge (the old one with the Native American cartoon and the cockroach colony), ambled over to the Sportsman Lounge to take in the soccer game between America and Atlante.
Can you believe that beers at the above-mentioned establishments (now only at the Sportsman) still cost only $1.50? When you're short on coin, or haven't a farthing (as former city spokesman Bill Young liked to tell people who wanted to borrow cash), you can't beat the deal with a stick.
After the America 1-0 win over the hapless Atlanteans, I was headed for another part of town when I called my friend to inquire of his whereabouts. He was with family and suggested I check out the wine and the music at said Galeria. Being only two blocks removed from there, I walked over and entered the restored building.
The owners had done a marvelous job on the old building. The original brick remains and the wooden floors and high ceilings convey a look of antiquity that serve the gallery/performance salon well.
The performances hadn’t started, which gave me an opportunity to mix and rub elbows with other visitors and assorted dignitaries.
The owner (manager?) was friendly and Adrian introduced me to him. It's all a haze, but if I remember correctly, he had a pet dog with some type of issues, although it was hard to tell exactly what. Maybe it was just old age. Nonetheless, it was passive and non-aggressive. I, for one, am not overly friendly with strange dogs, or for that matter, horses. We keep a respectable distance from each other.
The salon was full as a group called “Long Time Coming” launched into what can only be described as sanitized country or folk, with Grateful Dead tunes and guitar duets.
I am partial to hillbilly and bluegrass and the tunes were infectious so that (after four glasses – OK maybe it was five – of vino tinto) I was chumming it up with the hostess and singing Hank Williams songs by the entrance (and the wine).
“Why don't you love me like you used to do? What makes you treat me like a worn out shoe? My hair's still curly and my eyes are still blue. Why don't you love me like you used to do? Ain’t had no loving like a kissin’ and a huggin’ in a long, long while. You don’t get near’r of fur’r than a country mile…”
Well, you get the drift.
We were having a great old time until I moved my glass over to the lady who was about to pour me another (would that have made six?) and the owner (manager?) sauntered over and put an end to my bacchanal.
The modern day Circe behind the table withdrew the cup, but alas, it was too late. The wine had had its effect and even Ulysses couldn’t prevent the conversion. I had become a pig.
Anyway, I do believe an apology is in order to the owner (manager), and to the Foncerradas. It really is a nice joint they have there. Next time they have an event, don’t miss it. But stay away from the vino tinto.
Oink.
10 comments:
Juan, it still looks like the scumbag Rene Oliveria after a night on the Merlo, and can't find his way to his car.
Beer before wine, you'll be fine, Wine before beer, sick for a year good luck Juan.
Don't apologize. You are not one of those people who sip the Galleria cheapo wine and have no idea what they are looking at. You drink cheap wine and wonder at the world around you and make comments. Meanwhile, the rest of the "patrons" just come out to see and be seen. You are the artist, Montoya, and without people like you the Galleria wouldn't exist. Give them nothing, especially not an apology. Life is taking place on the sharp edges of Btown while those well-padded and well-fed "patrons" are all feeding off your blood. Give them nothing. Give them nothing at all.
Runn, Runn, don't stay at functions like these! Cheap wine and people who are even cheaper. They wanna be seen and wanna see - that's all. You were probably the most cultured person there. I am so sorry that you were subjected to the strong arm of the alcohol policia. You do know that you were the most interesting person there, right? Everybody, even the Fonceradas want to be at the right place at the right time. You are the one who makes everything happen and they diss you. Screw them - they have no idea that you are the one person that makes Btown interesting. I am with you, Bro.
The people that go to these events are chupacabras - they feed off the blood sweat and tears of artists like you
Hey Montoya, no apologies needed.You came, you saw, you drank. (God-awful wine, if I remember correctly at previous occasions) Good for you. You give back more to this overly-pretentious-yet-still-an-awful-backwater town than anybody else has ever done in their entire lives and you are not afraid to speak the truth. Keep on showing up at the hoity-toity parties - tell the powers that be that they are wearing no clothes. I respect you and your writing.
WE need more of this Montoya being the only real person at the party.
How dare you say your sorry. you are an artist. A whole lot more than those people who were drinking the rot gut wine. "OOH, let us go to the galleria and see who's there." LA-DI-FUCKIN-DA Do not apologize to the people who have no clue. You belong they don't.
Innocently you went to the wrong place like a new born. Instead of going to the toilet they use a diaper. Walking around thinking their shit don't stink and drinking cheap vino. Wrong place, wrong time...
8.23
It seems like you have been there and done it all, you have survived OK.
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