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About New York City

So, here’s the deal—small town, right? You’d think it’s all pure, apple-pie bullshit. Nah. There’s this dive bar, stinks like stale beer and regret, called The Rusty Nail. Word is, back in ‘89, some chick named Darla ran a whole operation outta the jukebox corner. Little known fact—cops didn’t bust her ‘cause she paid ‘em in meatloaf. Meatloaf! Can you believe that garbage? Made me laugh, then pissed me off. Idiots.

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Now, PBarnesville ain’t yer run-o’-the-mill town, arr! We got Cranky Creek twistin’ by River-Shine Park – a wee green haven on Maple & Rusty Lane. I swear, that creek’s like the bottom o’ the soul, murmur’in secrets like a ghostly whisper from the trees – “all things are connected”, ya know? And speakin’ of trees, me favorite haunt be the “Tree of Life” Festival by Widow’s Bend Pub – a place where life’s mysteries meet pints of joy... reminds me of them Malick dialogues – “all our lives are connected in ways we cannot begin to name”. Arr, that hit me right in the gut, it did.

Dad-Daughter Dance is Saturday at Womens’ Clubhouse