Pauley's Tavern and Pool Hall

Daydreams to cope with sometimes take on lives of their own....

al·le·go·ryˈ (aləˌgôrē) noun

plural noun: allegories

   "A story, poem, or picture that can be interpreted to reveal a hidden meaning, typically a moral or political one."

   “An Allegory is a form of extended metaphor in which objects, persons and actions in a narrative, are equated with meanings that lie outside the narrative itself.

The underlining meaning has moral, social, religious or political significance of abstract ideas as charity, greed and envy.

Thus an allegory is a story with two meanings, a literal meaning and a symbolic meaning.”

   Yes, I looked it the f*ck up and with that you know what is needed to be known to understand what the Pauley’s Tavern and Pool Hall book series is about.

  Oh I should add that the censor is pretty much off most of the time. PG this story is not. PG13 neither. R yes; but beyond that?

Shhh....

Now some background info on the place ”The R*tards" go to play.

(Pauley’s term of endearment for his patrons that don’t act their age, especially when sh*tfaced.

Think about what "r*tarded" means, then how it's used in every day language to be an insulting description.

Just like calling a child a "b*stard", some words should be questioned as too f*cked up to use like they're whatever.

"Wh***" is another one with an edge, and yes these words among others will be questioned, but you as readers decide the fate of these words as they apply to your personal vocabularies.)

   Pauley’s Tavern and Pool Hall is a sort of 'speak-easy' name for The Iron Horseshoe Tavern established back in 1974 by Paul "Pauley" Kelly.

It’s called this to keep what are now known as 'hipster' invaders away, and its whereabouts only known by word of mouth.

Is it elitist?

Perhaps.

Or it is about self preservation and preventing as long as possible, their haven from being taken over by those that do not honor tradition, nor would uphold Pauley's Code of Conduct.

  New folks are welcome, as long as they can respect the School House Rules and don't complain when Lucy gets unplugged; otherwise foos are getting their a*ses expelled!

   Over the years The Tavern has become a home away from home club house for old timers and mostly blue collar roughneck man children with its latest motley generation currently in their 30’s, give or take.

Some married with children or divorced with visitation on the weekends.

They have bills to pay, money to save, jobs to not f*ck up in order to do both.

Occasionally these a*sholes may brawl and Pauley’s shotgun Grace taken out to dance, with Jukebox Lucy playing the soundtrack; but overall the place is mellow on a weekday afternoon.

   The crowd that made The Tavern its watering hole is loyal and there is a sense of kinship between the boozer drunks.

Stories this tavern has no lack of thanks to the antics of the patrons, which also include my own.

   I wrote myself in as a character using my real name because all this stemmed from a daydream I had, to keep me company while I went for long walks with detours, in my new town of residence;

Boyle Heights, California.

   Though home for me will always be my beloved

East Los Angeles, Califas

   One day I thought of a man that didn’t exist to help me move on and let go of the past, by focusing on the existing hope of the present and lessons learned.

  Perhaps it was my way to prepare myself mentally for the future because I don't have much to my name other than my imagination.

 “Mikey, Jacob, Bobby, Joe, Paul, Davey, Alex, Dennis and Lou”

   Names of made up men that are a close knit pack of pals I will never forget.

They all represent an aspect of the men I have known, both in the good and bad; but they are human, even if fictional.

They are part of the details to the symposium full of zanies.

   This story experiment at times is a sort of open love letter to men that have shown their integrity even as they also try to get things right.

These men are strong but also weak.

Happy but still stressed.

Hopeful but discouraged at times with what they feel is out of their control.

It’s a mix we all endure, but with them; I feel how unequal men still are when it comes to expressing their feelings on it all.

How do I know?

I'm a daughter of one that expressed them regardless.

   The women in this saga also are shown going through their own life roller coasters and attaining their triumphs for they too are strong and capable.

It’s just with them, the way their stories are told is different.

How different?

The goal is to show we could use a little bit of understanding from the fellas.

With their stories, I hope to tell men that not all of us are their enemies or psychos, that more often than not, there was an issue with communicating and emotions go on edge.

We can be worthy of trusting and also respecting.

I hope to tell, we can have our bad days too, even if our hairstyles look nice; and we don't always know what the f*ck we're doing either.

We do know we could be wrong also.

No really.

Women are capable of knowing they can be wrong. Getting us to admit it, now that's something else.

*cough*

I want to show the men I was able to reach through to, women can be their friends as well, and shoulder part of the old burdens that say a man must bare these alone.

Even as women, we can relate and be more than arm candy hood ornaments, "Honey can you bring me a beer?".

  But this is to reassure the males that are willing to read, they'll have a place in what is usually considered female terrain.

  Yes this is a quirky soap opera Spanglish novela, for a subculture of those that bought in to what a friend called:

"The Rockabilly Retirement Plan for Punks, Skins and Goths".

And what was surprising, the guys did get in to it as much as the gals. I mean, how can I write an open love letter to men, if I don't include what matters to and interests them?

  From the serious like Erectile Dysfunction or even the car not starting and being already late for work.

To the "Are you f*cking serious!?!" and the latter said in two manners.

One with enthusiastic glee like they scored, and the other in BOHICA despair.

Espeakin' of which....

This is a bedtime story dedicated most of all to Our Troops and 'Docs' green side or civilian; for I do know the power of a reality break, if not reading oneself asleep.

And this because I want to "Play It Forward" and yes I do mean play.

  The man I would spend countless silent moments, wondering about his happiness and safety; he was the life lesson I needed to get me out of a bad place; even as I felt helpless knowing which bad place he was headed back to.

This Army Coptor Doctor ridding one of Anansi's spiderweb threads, tied to the foot of a Dragonfly Dustoff back in Stan; reminded me why being able to control your focus, makes dealing with difficult things, easier to cope with.

The chaos will still be there, it's how you allow it to affect you, that makes a very important difference.

You either learn how to hold on and fight or you don't. That "don't" had been my concern for him.

There was a reason his story began to stand out to me.

"Yet for me that also came from the desert, compassion I also knew how to show...."

  Eyes like his and lack of smile, you don't forget.

He had the face of many that aren't returning all that well; but his face comforted me when it would look silly; but haunted when it was a stoic with unintended, resigned grace.

  So this allegory that aims to be a cult classic, does have its soul, as that odd daydream of mine, found a life of its own.

And it became a Shoretale Fable of Therapy in Motion and thinking up the answers that become the solutions.

It's all just rhyming for the reasons, that carry us through the seasons of change.

Suggestion: Look up Grandiose, Ostentatious, Pretentious, Narcissistic, Delusional, Self Absorbed Motor Mouth, but most of all Ironic Catharsis. Thank you.

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Copyright ©2017 Rev. Mother L. G. Flores. All Rights Reserved.

Heaven Please Bless All That is "Pauley's...." and May No Harm Come To This Therapy In Motion, Adult After School Special, What Happens Cuando Nos Ponemos Las Pilas, Mark In Miles Stones, for This Dreamer and Music Maker Shake, Rattle n' Roll!

Amen.

"Siempre Fiel En Lagrimas Y Sangre"

Dream a little dream of me…
By L.G. Flores

Frank Sinatra
“I get a kick out of you”
1/29/2013 11:19pm

  Today was good though I’ve been up since a bit passed four in the morning. I wasn’t able to sleep much; I was worried I’d over sleep and miss my appointment. I had a dream that was full of symbolism I did my best to make sense of. This time it was about Gladys, the waitress from Denny’s off Imperial where Mikey and the guys go to sober up after drinking and shooting pool over at The Iron Horseshoe… This wasn’t the first time I’ve dream of a Pauley’s character…

Isham Jones
“It had to be you”

  I have seen Pauley himself. He was the captain of a boat that was going down the rivers that were once the freeways of Downtown LA. It was nice seeing waterfalls over the over passes. What I found strange was that he only gave us on the boat a couple seconds warning we were going to go underwater. I thought of the children on board before I took a deep breath that I thought I was going to let go and swallow water. Something that gives me anxiety in real life which is why I don’t swim.

Helen Forrest
“It’s always you”

  Well we only went under for a few seconds. All of on board were wearing wet gear and Pauley takes us to the bank of what looked like black gravel sand. Everyone else is getting out of their wet gear and are in swimsuits and trunks, drying off while I was still in my jacket and trousers as was Pauley in his yellow slicker… Weird thing was I was completely dry. I’m not sure what that meant but Pauley had a kind smile.

Glenn Miller
“Pennsylvania 6-5000”

  I’ve had not quite dreams but I’ve seen Mikey. I’d have to look for the picture I found online of how I imagine he looks like. Its his brown eyes, expressive eyebrows and dark brown hair that stand out in contrast to his medium light skin. When I seen the picture of the man, I would gaze at it. I know I was daydreaming on my bed and I was falling asleep but he didn’t go away. I liked his hair without grease. What was strange, I could smell the scent of his hair, his skin, even the liquid softener in his broken in tee. I liked his smile too…

Louis Armstrong
“In the mood for love”

  Thinking about Mikey… I’ve gone to bed with the covers over my shoulder and I’m on my side. I look at the wall and pretend he’s under the covers with me. I replay my made up conversations and thinking about him…

Larry Clinton
“A study in green”

…his chest comes to mind. He’s a carpenter, construction and he carried heavy loads at times over his shoulders. He’s not muscular, has a bit of a thick waist from the beer he drinks but his pecks are there. I imagined him with a fur patch and a happy trail. That’s me remembering Clinton that was muscular but I liked feeling the texture of the hair on his chest. I like this mental imagine of laying my head on his chest and he’s brushing my hair with his fingers and I just close my eyes and take his scent in. I imagine this closeness and feeling at ease listening to his heart beat. Is it nice in real life? I’ve forgotten, I don’t remember if I’ve laid my head on a man’s chest like that.

George Gershwin
“Rhapsody in blue”
 

  I set out to describe the sweet moments of falling in love when I’ve only known it in short instances that were long ago and far in between. I suppose what I’m doing is describing falling in love with my ideal. Making love to him in my mind was interesting, especially the first time when it wasn’t awkward and comical. Yeah I had to keep it real to life, first times that at times are the only times, don’t have the choreographed beauty as it is on screen. Right now I’m thinking of when it was slow and caring. The soft moans and gasps for air.

Billie Holiday
“Can’t help lovin’ dat man”

  I like his ungreased hair, a bit scruffy on top and in the back. No gunk or stickiness, just soft dark brown hair. I wrote him as the type that feels tingles up his spine when his neck is kissed and earlobes nibbled on and that excites him even more. He’s imagined as the type of man I’d gladly massage his back, but I rather feel his weight on top of me. He’s also imagined as the type that softly and slowly kisses my neck and shoulders, dragging his bottom lip… then looking up to smile and gives me a smooch then returns to what he was doing. I think if I write this right, other women would dream of Mikey too…

Louis Armstrong
“Dream a little dream of me”
1/30/2013 12:31

~L.G.Flores

 

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Copyright ©2018 By Rev. Mother L.G. Flores. All Rights Reserved.

Heaven Please Bless All That is "Pauley's...." and May No Harm Come To This Therapy In Motion, Adult After School Special, What Happens Cuando Nos Ponemos Las Pilas, Mark In Miles Stones, for This Dreamer and Music Maker Shake, Rattle n' Roll!

Amen.

"Siempre Fiel En Sangre y Lagrimas"