Dive bar queen

A tribute to the liminal space of the Dive Bar…

If you ever want to conduct a fascinating study of the human condition, look no further than the dive bar. Throughout our dating history, my husband has taken me to some of the shittiest places imaginable. Probably to test me, no doubt. He sometimes forgets that I’m expensive looking on the outside, but deep down, I’m a cheap piece of trash like the rest of ‘em. And more than that, I’m a keen participant-observer of social realities. I love me a good dive bar night out.

I can’t help but find the ambiance charming in an unpretentious, lived in kind of way. Do I want to die a slow death in another chain restaurant over a kale salad and a $16 mojito while top 40

drivel plays out the speaker? Not a chance in hell, my friend.

I like everything about places like these. The grit and the weariness. The sticky-tables, torn upholstery, and lingering smell of tobacco from years past still clinging to the walls. The bathroom stalls filled with quirky graffiti and a light dusting of coke on the toilet paper dispensers, for good measure. The uncomplicated drinks. If you’re like me, you might even get a violent case of food poisoning from taking a risk and drinking a caesar made with room temperature Clamato juice. This particular incident occurred years ago in Trail, BC. But it rests with me just the same.

In any event, I still find myself drawn to shit holes and the hodgepodge of characters that come and go from them. It’s such an interesting milieu. The way people come and seamlessly unload their struggles from the outside world into this one place. I like the older patrons the most. The decades of lived experience etched into their unbeautiful faces, the real problems they’ve encountered and the way their eyes twinkle as they let go in a more relaxed environment. No matter where I am, I always seem to make a friend or two. I find the reciprocity in these interactions more authentic to life.

So I guess this currently alcohol abstinent pregnant lady is trying to say… long live the dive bar. May they always be around to provide a refuge for us all.

Following the river

Here’s to another year of not resisting the natural flow of life. As things inevitably get busier around me, I work on tidying my mind. I sometimes catch myself thinking, there must be more. But now I recognize the inherent resistance in this. That persistent feeling of lack I feel is less about the world in general, and more so tethered to my own self-concept. Truth be told, I’ve always felt like something is missing inside of me, so I’m always chasing this unknown thing. Like I have to do something to make my life more meaningful than it already is.

But when I follow the river, I see that it carves the entire landscape beautifully without getting in its own way. And onward we flow…

Sunday Spotlight: “From the rind to the seed Palestine will be free…”

Ben Haggerty (aka Macklemore) continues to demonstrate that he’s one of the few celebrities with a soul…

The song Hind’s Hall 2 is his latest release in support of Palestine, with all proceeds going to UNRWA. In this track (with a brilliant opening verse by Anees) he continues to call out the genocidal powers that be. What I appreciate the most in this song is that he makes room for several Palestinian voices, including the gorgeous harmony of the California Palestinian Youth Choir. He’s not afraid to put his own ego aside and use his platform for good by amplifying marginalized voices. That’s something I’ve always really respected, and this track is no exception.

When it reaches his verse, he goes hard and doesn’t disappoint:

Long live the resistance if there's something to resist

Had enough of you motherfuckers murdering little kids

PC for a minute I was trying to be a bridge

But there'll never be freedom by pleading with Zionists

World screaming, "Free Palestine"

We seen the manual we know how you colonized

You'd be surprised by how many fucks you actually really don't give

When you take away the power of the all-mighty dollar sign…