The Globe Coffee Lounge

The Wharf Rats are sober Deadheads, and we welcome them (we’ll have Ed Green’s show on). Meeting starts at 6pm, and I think everyone stays for as long as the Freak show is on!

You can read about it here, and btw, I believe~

so far today I’ve

cracked my head on the back door

dropped a full container of  black beans on the floor

spilled the cream when I was putting in more.

Call  if you need to make an appointment: 727.898.5282

If you want a wonderful tarot reading, Natty will be here from about 7.30 until 11 or so on Wednesday night. She is fantastic, kind, and accurate.

You can make a donation anywhere between $5-25 for the reading.

This year’s patrons’ art show will be from mid-November until the New Year. It will be a photography show instead of all media, but we can be pretty broad on the interpretation of photography.

I’ll post more information tomorrow about the show when I get all the details nailed down.

If you have questions, please email me at joellen@globecoffeelounge.com , or find us at the Globe’s facebook.

Gracias!

come join us, lots of chess playing, all levels and ages represented, starts at 8pm. Or 7pm. I’ve heard both!

by JoEllen Schilke on Saturday, September 11, 2010 at 12:38am

They were the upstarts, the unlovely buildings way down on the southern tip. They were no Empire State building, the building whose smooth stair railings were carved by my great grandfather. Nor did the Twin Towers have the deep gotham beauty of the old city hall swath they neared, they didn’t signal to the world the coming power of the USA and NYC as the scalloped top of the Chrysler building had. The Twin Towers didn’t have that turn of the century force of the Flat Iron building, cleaving the avenues.

Eventually though, they established themselves in New Yorkers’, and the world’s, mind eye. As a teen I navigated by them, everything was north of there, and if I wanted to find the Knitting Factory without getting lost (again…), they were there, inverted polar stars at night, guiding the way. And the thrilling tightrope walk across their divide endeared them to us all.

The first trip back to New York after the buildings were destroyed, after so many people died, after so many bad things happened to so many good and bad people, we drove. I was with my friend Margaret and her daughter, Amy.  Driving in along the southern bend of the city we held our breath, we had been holding our breath, we cried while driving, we could and couldn’t look, we had nothing to see and there was an invisible scar in the sky. It was hard to orient, the reference point was taken.

My brother, a big, strong man, who loves his friends strongly and whose heart aches easily, saw paper fluttering down from the Twin Towers where he was working, across a bridge, I don’t remember where. He has police and firemen friends, and his fear for them flowed through the phone.  A friend from college days died.   I can’t repeat often enough how loud the silence was there, nor how scorching the absence was, down where the Twin Towers were.

I hate calling that Ground Zero. It is a horrible, militant term, dismissive of its past, and eliminating any future. The people and the place were casualties in stupid, stupid wars, wars based on power and greed and fear. When I finally saw the hole, a year later, where the Twin Towers had stood, time cruelly tipped over, for it looked just like it did when they were being built.

No one has ownership over that day, or those memories, or that past, or any future. Anything done is temporary. Great buildings fall. Evil people, hateful people, sweet people, good people, they all die. Rivers dry up, or move away. Everything is organic on some level and keeps moving and mutating, maybe too slowly for us to tell, but everything does.

There are art openings and birthday parties and people going to work today. The best way to dismantle the hate of 9/11 is to live the bright life. It doesn’t mean the harsh reality is forgotten. It just destroys its ability to drag the world down with its darkenss.