121802 #human Jim Linneman is going on with his chums about his favorite topic, local music. A bumper sticker from the third year I lived in this town, "Live to Ride 95th Anniversary," is yellowed and peeling off the wall. There is one pretty lady here, showing a small crescent moon of her back. I swear I recognize the bartender from somewhere. Riverwest White sucks but they were out of Eastside Dark. Yes, it is Wednesday but instead of going to the Roda I came here because when I stepped out of Rochambo onto Brady, the rain and the christmassy lights hit me softly and I had to go have a beer with Glenn. I thought about Up & Under, thought about the Tasting Room, but eventually I had to come here, to see if he would show up. Here by the open stage. Here by the dark wood. Here by Jim Linneman who never remembered me. Here by the pool table in the back room where Sara used to be, where sloppy scruffy Chris used to be, where Julia the raven girl was and where Kathy with a K was, where any number of perfectly lovely, funky, sad, shapely, perfectly glowing people used to be. And the huge old tree trunk chair that's such a great idea but really isn't very comfortable to sit in.