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"

Getting Away On the Metro Part I

metro-gold-line.jpeg

Press Play To Listen To James "Getting Away With It (All Messed Up)" For The Soundtrack

  As I'm getting older the songs that keep me company have evolved. A song like this I picture myself riding the train I caught at Union Station. Sitting down by a window and looking out of it and wondering about those I care about and one that caught my eye.

  His face and name have changed over the years, he never sat next to me to travel to our destination where our only real limitation is catching the last train in time to get back 'home' wherever that is for them, and for me that I wonder if it would be us living together one day under the same roof.

  Would I ever live with a new name and face that kisses me goodnight at the end of the day and kisses me good morning at the start of a new one?

  Would he be happy living with me and seeing me in a candid state whereas before he only seen me on the Metro light rail platforms?

  He seen me dressed in clothes that show my sense of style but not uncovered where he sees my skin. Would he want to touch me to feel how warm, soft and smooth it is?

  Perhaps in the future, that is open wide. But back on the train, we have our long conversations focused on what the other had to say, not the driving rules of the road. Would we be lovey-dovey as the change of the season that Autumn will bring with it a chill in the air and rustling of leaves changing their colors?

  Perhaps if I should be so fortunate to be shown affection out in public where he's not hiding me. Actually, that's part of the thrill he feels showing the world I caught the train with him.

  Perhaps I would be in a new phase of my life where the trains took me far away from the moments I would look out the window with tears in my eyes listening to my songs of lament and remembering the failure to launch with yet another not meant for me.

  Or was it I wasn't meant for them?

  Yes, I wasn't meant for them. I was meant to complete my own little family with someone else that considers me the one to share his life with. Be with him during good times and those that are tough. It sounds like I'm decided.

  I've chosen to move on from those old songs of lamenting in an open view silence where I've been told by someone that has seen my body language was familiar to them.

  "Don't cry over him, he's not worth it and you'll be happy again."

  I don't know who this stranger was, but they knew without me saying a word. This elderly woman riding the Metro with me had the wisdom I needed to listen to.

  Whoever he was, a stranger understood he wasn't worth my tears. Whoever he was, he's who the train I'm riding on left behind. If we pass each other by, I wouldn't want to say hello and smile. Too much time was given to them that proved he truly wasn't worth it. So who is?

  This song carries me away to a here and now as I prepare to put myself back out on a limb where the sweetest fruit is. It feels out of reach and yet the limb supports me to get closer to the fruit to pick it.

  I want to share my prize of giving romance another chance as I continue to prepare for one particular round-trip where I take the Gold Line to its very end. There my friend will pick me up and drive us to where I can find the answers I need.

  I recenter and know as I feel secure, I've caught my breath and I'll get to tell him about on the ride back home how I'm not down for the count. I got up and even as tired as I've felt, I did, in fact, catch my breath to where I'm not in panic mode. I'm making sense and I have more self-control to see things through.

  The ride back home on the Gold Line after the long drive, the beginning of the process that seemed too far off in the distance of time not yet met, I'll meet up with. Looking out the window those I care about will be on my mind, but so will the one that caught my eye. I'll think of all the hope gathered between them and the ones I care about that at the end of 'it' all I'll agree it was worth it once we're reunited.

  And as my ride ends with the train stopping at the station close to my home, I leave with my hope intact and the pain that was, a bit more stayed behind as the train keeps going back on schedule for others to take and it help tell their stories.

  What stories will I share with the one that caught my eye that I told about those I care about and wonder everyday how they're doing; and if they think of me as I think of them?

  Whichever they are, chances are they'll hear it as we ride the train to wherever we are going together, and I'll feel heard as I hope they will as well.

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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"