Larking

The Lark Tavern
453 Madison Ave, Albany NY
January 29, 2008, 5:58pm

Physical surroundings:
I am at the Lark Tavern, sitting in a rather uncomfortable booth. The booths are red curved rectangles with very little cushion on their wooden surfaces. They have straight backrests that pop out a little at the neck so you kind of have to curve your body to fit into it. When my foot taps the table, it wobbles.

I wouldn’t be sitting here if I wasn’t meeting my friend Jared. He likes Lark’s booth seats. Next door to the Lark Tavern to its right is a Laundromat. On the left is a Mexican restaurant called El Loco. I wouldn’t consider The Lark to be in a rough neighborhood. It is close to Delaware which, as you go towards the Price Chopper (known as “the Ghetto Chopper”), the neighbor hood gets somewhat sketchy.

I have spent a lot of time at the Lark watching local shows, mainly for my friend Jared and bands from Rev Records like The Sense Offenders, Sergeant Dunbar and the Hobo Banned, and Laura Boggs. I participated at an open mic once here.

I am comfortable here because it is a comfortable atmosphere. The people who work here are friendly: they don’t seem to have any judgments or expectations for anyone who walks into Lark. The lighting is dim so it is kind of a darker setting and I like it. I kind of like not being seen so clearly because sometimes I feel more comfortable being faceless. As to why this may be I’m not exactly sure. In another paper I wrote about being faceless while reading at open mics and it applies to this, I like being a stranger. I like to sit and observe, and think and never say a word until I read out loud to people who don’t give a damn about what I’m reading because they don’t know me. Also, I’ve been there so many times that it is a familiar spot for me. I was comfortable the entire time I sat here.

When I started writing in public places (Red Square, the bus, outside…) it was awkward. I’m so used to it now that it is very every day for me. I probably started writing everywhere last year due to the fact that if I didn’t write to release, I would have gone crazy. Whenever I would go to my friend Jared’s shows, or to an open mic at Red Square I was 97% of the time by myself. I didn’t want to just sit there so I wrote. If you aren’t already working on something, you write what you see. This is what I did. During my second semester of junior year, I had an amazing academic schedule: Creative Writing, Modern Poetry, Reading and Writing the Autobiography, and 19th Century American Literature. I was writing so much in each of those classes and out of them that I couldn’t stop. I also needed a healthy release from everything I was feeling from last year.

It is unnecessary to go into why. I was emotionally off for over a year but writing about everything and everyone became my savior. Each of my classes taught me how to write in different styles and forms, particularly my Autobiography class which focused on writing scenes and using the senses. After that I became obsessed with writing as clearly and specifically as I could so that it would be alive. I became addicted to writing and sometimes, no matter where I was be it during class, the bathroom, walking or in the midst of a conversation I literally had to stop what I was doing to write.

Writing kept me balanced because I couldn’t. This is why I have no problem writing in public and don’t feel uneasy because I literally wrote everywhere. And now? If I don’t have some type of paper on me—a receipt, a bus schedule, a pamphlet or a notebook—I feel naked and imbalanced. I need to write.

Now, over a year later, I’m okay. I am as balanced as I could hope to be. However, I have no problem dropping whatever I’m doing to write. If I had to say I was a writer I would say that I am not. I am an apprentice writer. This term coined is from Rebecca Rule and Susan Wheeler’s book True Stories: Guides for Writing from Your Life. It means that I have nothing published and am still learning.

People watch:
For now I am alone. There aren’t that many people in this room, they are off to the side. Mostly young males speaking in low tones. This affects me in no way. I am more comfortable around males as it is. The place smells like a mixture of beer and nachos. A couple sitting in front of me is splitting an enormous plate of chips covered in cheese, I think it’s sour cream, olives, maybe jalapeno peppers? The girl keeps laughing at her boyfriend, at least I think he’s her boyfriend. Her laugh sounds like a low vibrating noise like some kind of kitchen appliance warming up and picks up in pitch with a few “huh-huh-huh’s.”

She’s bundled up in a loud, neon green puffy jacket with a gray fuzzy scarf wrapped around her neck. Her hair is cut right under her ears, a light brown? She is facing my direction and her boyfriend’s back is facing me. He is wearing a red beanie and is wearing some kind of black coat. She has a wide mouth. I know this because she won’t stop smiling at him with her tiny teeth that make her mouth look even larger. She kind of has a classic look to her, soft? That might be the word. She just looks soft. And she chews with her mouth open. Nice to witness. She keeps saying things but I honestly have no idea what she is saying because it looks like she is mouthing everything.

There has also been a waitress walking around. Interesting attire. She just came over to me. She said to me, “Hi Honey can I get you anything? Would you like a menu?” I told her no thank you and not yet (I wasn’t hungry and I knew what I was going to drink: Blue Moon). She said something like she’d be walking around if I needed anything. I think. Anyways, I don’t know how tall she is because I’m sitting down but I think she is a little shorter than me (I’m 5’7ish). Her hair is brown and somewhat wavy and hangs past her shoulders. She is wearing a black skirt that hangs half way between her knees and thighs. Her legs are thick and covered in dark stockings. She is wearing short black heels. There might be a buckle, I’m not sure (I was going to check later when she came back but I forgot to). Her voice is low, not raspy but it has some texture to it. Kind of like a purr? Not gurgling, just texture. I’m not really sure how to explain it. It’s weird but pleasant. Friendly. She did smile at me when she first walked up to me, no teeth showing.

Anyways, she is wearing a sleeve less, low neck line—pretty much cut off half way up her breasts—hot pink, dull top. She is wearing a matching hot pink bra which rises above her top. Her breasts are small, like clementines but fitted to her body. Her waist is thick and I think because her shirt is so fitted it gives her waist a curve. It emphasizes her middle which puffs out a little. She has tattoos on her left arm, maybe flowers either on her wrist or shoulder.

I’m not really sure what anyone is saying other than directly to me because the music is loud (Hendrix’s “Fire”), people are speaking softly and I’m caught up in my writing. The girl reminds me (I seriously do not know why) of Lucille O Ball because she has this classic, soft look to her and if I had to compare this girl to anyone it would be Lucille. As far as the waitress… not anyone that I can think of. She seems very everyday with her friendliness and that’s about it.

Five Senses:
The colors I see around me are mostly brown—the floor, the seats and chairs. The room is dimly lit, so definitely a darker atmosphere. I know it is night time outside (I walked here). The most color comes from the stage, which is located at the back of the room. It is low, one step off of the ground. The stage lights are on so the stage has a kind of yellow, light glow to it. Rather bright. Its wall is beautiful. I’ve spent many hours hypnotized by its shiny silver, hot pink, gold, green, blue streamers, hanging at a length from wall to ceiling. The ceiling might be higher than ten feet. I’m not sure. I’m only guessing. Light reflects off of the streamers and they move ever so slightly, little soundless ripples. Well, probably not soundless. I imagine they crinkle but I wouldn’t know because I am not near them at all.

The room is warm, pleasantly warm but my hands are cold. They are usually cold even if the room is warm. I have poor circulation. On the table is a small ice bucket, except instead of ice there is a ketchup bottle and a white salt and black pepper shaker. The bucket is cool, rounded with a thick line wrapped around it like an embedded thin choker in its thick neck. The bucket is smooth but still has a slight resistance kind of like very, very, tiny, tiny bumps on it that have been sanded down. Something like that. I’m trying to explain it but I’m not sure I’m doing it very well.

I haven’t been listening to the sounds too closely because I’ve been so into writing that I zoned out. When I was listening, I heard Hendrix’s “Fire” and then some woman singing. Actually, it kind of sounds fuzzy. Not static like, fuzzy. A low fuzz made up of everyone speaking quietly. The atmosphere still reminds me of Red Square. It makes me think of sitting at a table at Red Square watching people perform at open mic—music performers of jazz and various acoustic acts—waiting for my turn to step up to the stage and quickly present two poems, going through puberty while I speak because I get so nervous and then fleeing the stage. Usually I’d go outside and have a quick smoke (when I used to), walking in circles or kind of hopping from one foot to the next or I’d just leave.

Other notes:
This is what I wrote down: I came here early because I am meeting up with a friend for a drink. Thankfully it isn’t too crowded. Push past two doors, bar to my left, two round tall tables to my right, a jukebox right after that. The room narrows creating a separation from the bar and the sit down area.

There are two men sitting at one of the high tables, both of them tall and thin. One guy has a small sparkly earring in his left ear. He looks like he just shaved or something. Very smooth. I didn’t catch his eye color, but he has some very thick eyebrows. Very dark too, like a dark chocolate except it is hair. He has an abnormally large nose. Very large. It looks larger then it might be because he has small features: a small, thin mouth, small eyes, small ears. It’s a very large nose. He’s middle aged. Older then 35.

His friend might be a little older than me, so older than 21. I didn’t stay in the bar area to get a good look at him. I pretty much remember that he has blonde hair that sticks up in the front and a very shiny nose. The owner Tess is here. I don’t know her personally but I know her by sight. Medium height, medium build. She has brown wavy hair that goes past her shoulders with random pink and washed out red stripes. Whenever I’ve seen her she is smiling. Her clothing is dark (I only saw her once when I came in).