#68 "Make Your Wish" In Color! August 9, 2013

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I am not a writer.
When I started writing these blog posts almost 5 years ago, it was really just to showcase the drawings. I was only posting the drawings on Bookface before posting them here, and in Bookface there was no description of the drawings, how they were conceived, or any information at all except the number of the drawing. We didn't even name them on there, it would just show up one day as "Tim & Jeremy's Mind on Loup #68!!!" Usually with three exclamation points. When number one hundred was posted, I used all caps. No one cared.
As the blog posts seemed to get longer and longer I also started thinking about them differently. Originally, I would make a couple comments about the drawings themselves, but then I started thinking about the restaurant more. Since these drawings are all done in the restaurant, during the operating hours of service, I thought that it would be more fun for my 8 regular readers to get a glimpse of life within the restaurant.
The Loup is, after all, a strange and magical place. It has been at 105 W. 13th St. since 1989, and was conceived a decade earlier in a different location also on 13th St. Since that time, it has become a neighborhood staple. Regulars know they can come in any time for comfort food and strong, delicious martinis. It is a safe haven for artists and celebrities, who know they can show up and dine unmolested by tourists or people looking for autographs. And then there is the literary aspect. When the restaurant was first opened in 1977 by Bruce and Roxanne Bethany, they decided to court the literary community. They decided that if the place was full of writers, the rest of the world would follow. They were right. Writers of all types have haunted, and still haunt the walls of the Cafe Loup. From Salman Rushdie and Christopher Hitchens' wild late nights, to young unknown poets struggling to buy a pint, the restaurant has been a comfort zone and meeting spot to an entire generation (or two) of New York literati.
Of course I had no idea about any of that when I walked through the doors in 2002 and handed someone my resume. For me, it was off a convenient subway line, it was in a cool neighborhood, and it was a on a block with a bunch of other restaurants so it was easy for me to walk up and down the block dropping off resumes. At the time, I had been unemployed for months and so I would go out every day looking for jobs wherever I could. I was cold-calling places, like the Loup; I was going on mass cattle calls that I found in the back section of the Village Voice, and any other method I could think of to get a job; any job. So when I got the call from the Loup, I was just happy to get a call back. I didn't care if it was a Village Institution. I didn't care if it was a Writer's Bar. I was just happy to get a full schedule and the ability to pay my rent. It wasn't until much later that I realized the respect and admiration the people of New York felt for this little restaurant. I was always a little jealous of the regulars because they had this incredible place to go night after night and interact with all these interesting people. Later on I realized that I was not only part of that, I was helping to continue the tradition of making it people's favorite spot. Cafe Loup was my regular bar, and I got paid to be at it. It was a wonderful revelation, and even though I do have some favorite regular places outside of the Loup (aka work), I still consider it my regular place.
I went off on that tangent to let you know about the restaurant a little, although I am sure I have written all of that in some form or another throughout this blog sometime in the past. The original point of this blog post was going to be me going on a self deprecating rant about how I am not a writer, or how I don't describe myself as a writer. I write this blog out of a weird compulsion to continue writing about these drawings in relation to the restaurant that they were created in. It really is compulsory in that I have no motive, I have no goal in mind for the drawings or for the text that accompanies them. Tim and I have talked about making them into a book someday, and maybe some of this text could be included somewhere in there, but that is not the motivating force for me to continue writing. The truth is, I don't know why I keep writing these things. I think it might be a way of processing the work experience and trying to convey it in a clear and concise manner that helps me understand my past 13 years at this establishment. Not that it is important or even very interesting. Maybe I am trying to defend to myself my employment at a place for such a long period of time, even though working at the Loup has given me the freedom that I moved to New York for in the first place. I needed a place that was steady where I could work while pursuing my other interests, which have been incredibly varied in the decade and a half that I have called New York my home.
So, when you read these posts, I hope you enjoy them, but also know that I am almost writing them as a diary that I might look at some day to help me  remember this time and place in my own history. I always say that in an ever-changing world, at least the Cafe Loup stays the same. I sincerely hope that it stays the same forever, but I know that it won't. Some day it will be a Duane-Reade with a Starbucks kiosk in it, and the Cafe Loup name will be in every mall in America as a "New York style French Bistro." Then, you and I will be able to come back and read all of these blog posts and remember a time that was, of people that were, and a special place in the middle of it all. And we can all laugh at all of my typos, run-on sentences, and basic inability to write in the English language. Until then, I'll see you at the Loup!

#57 "Happy Hour at the Cafe Loup" In Color! May 8, 2013

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For those of you who have never been to the Cafe Loup, this is almost exactly what it looks like from behind the bar. There are some small differences in real life, but what you are seeing is essentially what Tim and I see from behind the bar on any given night. A couple of obvious differences are that there are never any flying logs, and we don't have a helmet connected to a giant tube that is connected to the ceiling that gives you booze straight to the dome-piece. Other than that, it's your typical night at the Loup (although most likely a night in the winter months as there is a coat check girl hidden away in the coat room). The customers are typical generic bar customers, that could be found in any bar in the country. Let's appraise them from left to right, shall we?
Two wolf fathers (probably in finance) discuss the days highs and lows while their pups fight on the floor. These guys definitely come in early in the evening because the kids have to go to bed early. They drink martinis or other such drinks with high alcohol content so as to get the most bang for their hard earned buck. Next, (not counting the coat check girl) is the loner who is oblivious and confused. He stands behind everyone at the bar, looking uncomfortable and contagious, so now everyone feels weird. He is completely unaware that someone has narrowly missed is cranium with a sizable log, but continues to stare ahead, afraid to approach the bar and get something to drink, paralyzed by the fear of actually talking to someone (he'll probably turn around and leave saying, "I liked this place better when no one knew about it [in 1977]"). in front of him, seated at the bar, we have the only woman at the bar. She is pretty excited though, the whole bar is hers for the taking! She can have any of these dudes, and she just might. Dien is always talking about the "fishermen" at the bar. These are typically men, but in some cases they are women, who sit at the bar and go "fishing" for a date. I have mentioned this before (T&J #2 has The Blind Fisherman). The woman in this picture looks like one of those fisherwomen. She has come to the bar tonight to score a date with one of these guys. The competition is fierce, but the blue mustachioed man made his move and now is trying to make eyes at her. Maybe he's a fisherman too. He certainly looks like one with that stare that is practically screaming, "look at me! My hair is blue! I am a totally not creepy catch!" And yet, she continues to ignore him, lost in her own mind thinking about the excitement of finding love in a hopeless place (or she's looking in the mirror behind the bar). Next is the guy who's connected to the tube. This guy represents the ones who come in and drink for 8 hours straight. You know they can do it because you've seen them do it before. They rarely get wasted enough to do something stupid, but every once and a while they get that weird drunk. Most times, though, they seem cordial enough, sitting at the bar for hours and hours, always connected to their drink, or in this case, tube, chatting with whomever is sitting directly to their right or left and never missing a beat when the characters around him change. The pallor of their skin is pasty as they haven't seen daylight in weeks. Oddly enough, only he and the fisherwoman are the only ones smiling. After him we have a guy who could go a couple different ways. He could be some nerd who just got off work and would like a beverage, or he could be an employee of the Loup who just got off his shift and would also like a drink. Even though he doesn't look like anyone who currently works there, the Loup has been opened since 1977 (1989 in the location pictured above), so maybe he is a employee of Loup's past. Must've been a rough night, according to that face, not to mention his pen exploded in his pocket. Rough stuff. Next to him is the prophet. This guy could easily be "The Man Who Knew Too Much." You've seen him at the bar, but more likely you've heard them. They talk incessantly about anything and everything and have a strong opinion about all of it. They are usually right and unwilling to listen to what you have to say. Hence, they think that they are holier than thou, even though you are frequenting the same bar. Next to him sits the eccentric. He got his hair cut like a pharaoh and got matching neck rings. It's part of an ongoing art project that is more performance than body modification, but it's a work in progress so wait until next year to pass your judgements. Also, it will be on display the MoMa in a couple months, so you should feel lucky that you are seeing it now. He doesn't have a lot of money though because he's waiting for the grant money to roll in so if you could buy him one drink he'll pay you back in September. Finally, we get to the end with the Bad Ass. Yeah, he's got a gaping head wound, but so what? He just needs a shot of Jack and a Long Island Ice Tea and it's all good. I forgot it was even there. He says stuff like, "How'd you know I wasn't looking at you if you weren't looking at me?" after a couple more drinks. It's best to let this dude drink in peace and quiet. The less talking the better. You hope that by not engaging him, he'll move to a bar where more people can admire is Bad Assness.
It really is a Happy Hour! And in true Loup form, you look back at the clock after what seems to have been 10 or 15 minutes and it's, "2:20AM???!!! How'd that happen! I've gotta work in the morning! Dien, how much do I owe you?"