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.

Back To The Top Where It Starts

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"

No Mames Guey!

Play Videos and Listen While You Read Through To Next Tune and then STOP. What is the THEME? I read it as she weeps. This one has something on it. "That is what I said." The strange bard retorted....

Sound Off….

10/18/2012

  I started thinking about a few things and kept having to remind myself, what I think are just my opinions. I am holding back, biting my tongue, not disclosing what I really want to say. I can do that sometime; I mean shut my mouth about certain things. \

  My shit, fuck it. I challenge myself to see how fucking honest I can actually be, yet there are times I don’t want to express anything. That’s a conundrum for a writer that is supposed to well, write, trippy like I know right?

  My friends, they seen this Pauley’s story of mine is how I let what’s bugging me out. Or I use it to discuss a topic I feel should be discussed. I can’t do all I’d like when it comes to affecting change and shit like that, but I can use writing for something positive, though right now it’s my issues with my kids.

  I didn’t stand up, got over my fears, and fought tooth and nail. People tell me I couldn’t because of I was sick, it doesn’t make me feel better. Another issue I want to let out, is how, actually never mind.

  I’m not sure if I’m having a minor mood swing , but it feels like it. I feel slightly discouraged, but I’m too stubborn to give up. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m a fucking coward, well sometimes on some things; but it’s this pressure only I impose on myself, to be more than what I am. I’ll admit something on the verge of being shallow; actually never mind on that too.

  I want a cigarette right but I’m not going to the gas station to buy a pack. I’m chewing gum and peeled and ate an orange. I’m drinking water and well, when it cools down, do a bit of shadow boxing and push-ups, whatever… This goes back to what I think and feel is shallow by the standards that apply to me.

  In order to feel strong and brave, I act like a guy and do shit they do to keep them steady. My friend John, he told me to thin out my arms and yet the physical therapist that I worked with me a while, she said mine are awesome and gave me that compliment. Basically what I’m saying about the shallow; fuck I can’t even say it. Give me a few…

  How much thinking do I have to do self?

  How much fucking emotion do I have to bleed self?

  Self, why are you talking to you?

  I don’t know but I made myself laugh. John actually said

“Don’t worry when you talk to yourself, do it when you start answering.”

  I just wiped my eyes and nose. Anyway to keep this Pauley’s related…

  The Gina in the story, she’s a lot like me but tougher when not worried. Right now I am. This goes back to wanting to be more like a guy that can fake it and by all appearances, aren’t fucking afraid. You know how I know this is bullshit?

  I know someone that was a Meat On A String that was dangling while he was being shot at and….

  He survived.

  With that I’m going to change the subject with…

There is a comparison association. Listen for it. "Return to Reading" me.


(Prepare 2 Glean.... .)

WHAT THE FUCK IS THE FUCKING ISSUE OF MOST NOT GIVING ENOUGH OF A FUCK ABOUT THOSE THAT ARE FUCKING TRUDGING THE SHIT TO KEEP US FROM FUCKING ANNIHILATION FROM GENOCIDE!?!?!?! I’M FUCKING SERIOUS!!! IT’S LIKE FEW EVEN REMEMBER WHAT A ZEALOT IS AND FUCKING DOES….

 ****Think Deep, always check your reflection, even with a mirror. That can easily be me. If I become an art student, I'm a step closer to fucking becoming Hitler. Think about it and ask yourselves back whatever was the fucking lesson of the day.****

   I didn’t stop caring and couldn’t tune out though it was best I did for a while. I still don’t want to read the names on the Department of Defense press releases or at least not until I am drunk to numb a bit and read thousands of them. I've read through them before to look for a friend, another Doc. My heart stopped when I read a name the was similar. It wasn't him.

"Doc, where ever you are, thanks for getting me away and getting me to be still under the stars in silence. I like your grandparents. You were a trip Mac. Drink To The Foam!" ~Cass

  This, I don’t fucking talk about with anybody, so consider yourselves lucky like  Aces of Spades.  A lot of my military friends, they moved on and for morale’s sake, it’s best to vent it quietly somewhere else. Me I got Pauley’s and I can say exactly what I think about, but right now?

Fuck right now.

  I’m listened to Church bells a few seconds ago. It was off Dropkick Murphys’ Meanest of Times and the song title is “Never Forget” St. Mary’s here in Boyle Heights, the bell doesn’t get rung anymore. Sometimes when I pass by and go inside to pray and zone, the organ is played. It sounds like Phantom of the Opera at times, but others praying with their rosary beads, their voices can hypnotize.

  I usually visit La Virgen de Guadalupe, she’s Mother Mary but for Mexican Catholics. I go hang out with her on my knees out of respect, maybe tradition and habit; and this on the bare floor. I go and chill.

  Afterwards, I got to the dark nook only lit by prayer candles, to see the other Mother Mary statue, with two other female Saints. Both those chicks are nuns and I bet you wouldn’t have guessed it, but I wanted to be a nun when I was 13. It didn’t work out. Anyway back to the story…

  One of the nuns is St. Rita that I have mentioned and she also dealt with stigmata, according to what I read about her. She was always in pain. I’ve been told I have “Emotional Stigmata” but it’s the bipolar thing. Whatever.

  Now to bring me back to home plate so I can copy and paste this shit. I envy and I don’t, what men hide and avoid, which is weakness. I know another infamous generalization, but Boys Don’t Cry which again is bullshit. I was asked earlier today in a comment, what is my fave attribute in a guy… I answered I didn’t know, but I feel it’s their trust to show their vulnerable side sometimes.

  The sun is gold right now at 5:48pm. In my room, the only sound is of me typing slowly and whispering the words you are reading, as I went. Outside, cars are driving by, a plane flying, and conversations in Spanish.

  It’s calm. I wouldn’t say also sad.

  I got to vent and sound off a bit so I regained composure and am holding my head up high. I don’t want to be more like a man at this moment anymore. I know women that are strong and not just physically.

  I miss the packs I belonged to but I am getting close to the dames from The Beauty In Me Women’s Circle. They consider me the writer of the group.

 I wonder why.

~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"