#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!

#51 "The Second Descent of Professor Lidenbrock" In Color! February 2, 2012

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"The Second Descent of Professor Lidenbrock"

Part 2 of 2

He couldn't believe it! Even his own nephew and his lovely wife, both of whom he hadn't seen since their wedding were there! The Professor was furious! His nephew ambled over to the Professor, and re-sheathing his samurai sword onto his back, explained the situation to the Professor. He told the tale about how after their wedding, he needed a little extra cash, and what better opportunity than here, at the center of the Earth! It was an untapped market, with possibilities of tourism, hotel management as well as the restaurant sector; heck, he was even starting to get into the contracting business! The Professor was stunned to learn that his very own nephew, who was reluctant to even come on the previous adventure had made a life for himself down here. He had opened a restaurant, complete with an aquarium filled with the wildlife of the subterranean sea. The only problem his nephew had encountered was that the native, giant ape-like creatures were, in fact, cannibalistic and would occasionally eat the brains of his customers. But, the beasts proved to be handy around the kitchen and the nephews insurance rates down here couldn't be beat, so the occasional dead tourist did nothing to dissuade him from killing the beasts and serving them in his new restaurants. He merely employed the beasts in the restaurant and when one acted out, he would simply pull out the beasts eyes and serve them to the more adventurous diners. He would then mount the heads on the wall of the dining room both as art, and to serve as a warning to the other employed beasts. The tourists didn't seem to mind, because this was, after all, the center of the Earth. The rules of terra-firma did not necessarily apply down here, and the Professors nephew, advertising only in the Deep Internet had a clientele that was hungry for adventure and curiosities that might be frowned upon on the sunnier side of the world. The tourists The Professor was stunned. He reported back to base camp, calling the mission a failure and fired the team on the spot, giving each man, woman, and child bus fare home (His nephew had an agreement with the Fung-Wah Bus Company with Center to New York direct busses every hour on the hour). 

The Professor took a little nap, and when he woke up, he felt a little better. In fact, he wasn't mad at his nephew anymore. Sure, he had wanted to come down here to the center, figure out how and why this subterranean race of beasts lived here instead of the surface of the Earth with the rest of the human race and either help them integrate into polite society or subjugate them and put them in zoos. Either way, the Professor thought he was going to be a hero. Instead, he found that he was too late, and his nephew had beat him to the punch, and if he was going to become famous, he would have to explore new lands, for his nephew had already exploited the center of the Earth so much that it was now but a commodity of the rich and famous; a playground for those who have seen and done everything the surface of the Earth has to offer. During his nap, he had had a dream in which he gave up the exploration and the fame seeking and became a regular guy, doing regular things. When he awoke, he was so comforted by the thought of the dream that he went straight to his nephew and asked him to employ him. He didn't want a partnership or a cut of the overall profits from his nephews new subterranean empire, he simply wanted a job doing something that would give him time to pursue his other hobbies; mainly bird watching and plant identification. His nephew put him to work right away in the dining room of the restaurant. The Professor changed his name to Doug and began his new life as a waiter. He would now forever be known as the Waiter at the Center of the Earth.

#44 "Shakespeare In The Park" November 7, 2011

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To tell you the truth, I haven't read that much Shakespeare. I've read Romeo & Juliet, Othello, and Hamlet. I think that's it. I've seen Sleep No More and The Donkey Show, but both of those are loose interpretations; the latter being very loose, if you know what I mean. So, I would try to wax poetic about the picture here being an interpretation of Billy's works but I am afraid I am not knowledgeable enough to do that. Of course, there are all of the characters that Shakespeare liked to write about pictured here. There is the hero, pictured here holding a rabbit, (or cat; let's make it a cat to really double up on symbolism) looking off into space with a knowing look; as if he knows of his impending doom and is foreshadowing the coming storm with a sense of calm and helplessness. As if he can do nothing to stop his fate. He wears headphones to block out the advise given to him by friends and family and even has an Ego growing out of his head. His ego looks down on him, unable to change his mind, although in constant dialogue with him; a sad expression on its face, also foreshadowing his grisly fate. The hero (or possibly tragic hero) is being carried in a baby bjorn by an eyeless, sexless being, possibly the narrator, possibly a spiritual being who is "carrying" the hero to his predestined future; both unseeing and uncaring, the being merely delivers the hero's destiny as written by the stars. Behind these characters is the crazy woman, the Ophelia of the picture. You may remember her from Tim & Jeremy's #21 where she first appeared in a seemingly much older form. In this incarnation, she dances at the peripheral as the men make the big decisions and ultimate downfalls. She becomes marginalized and dances her way out of the picture, literally, with her socks drooping and feeding her hat all the while. Next, we have the villain. Here he is pictured as a high school aged cat (not unlike the kind the hero has been "carrying", amIright?) smack dab in the middle of the composition. He is like Iago, stabbing the proverbial lamb in the heart with a smirk on his face implying that he will probably get away with it, or at least bring down the entire kingdom while doing so. The lamb, in turn has a surprised look, like he should have known the knife was coming, like his own fate was to die by the knife in order to become the martyr or rallying cry for the kingdom to seek revenge. The revenge can possibly come from the character right in front of him, the king. The king looks old and regal and wields a hedge trimmer, eyes wild with bloodlust. He swings the hedge trimmer wildly, out for blood of those who have been trying to manipulate him into laying down the crown and give it to the evil high school cat. He really wants to cut down the plant behind him, but he has been blinded by fantasies of revenge so powerful that his hedge trimmers cannot find the source of his ire, which is the plant. The plant obviously represents the ghosts prevalent in many works of Shakespeare. No one in the picture even notices this plant, although they should as it has a head, teeth and is sprouting small heads each with it's own mouth and eyes. The plant sits on the edge, watching the living souls play out their irrelevant drama, as it waits patiently to be joined by one and all of them. They will all eventually die, and since this is a work of Shakespeare, they will all die relatively soon. But wait! Is that a band in the background? It is! The band provides a little comic relief, like that of the jester or Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream. The lead singer adds some sex appeal by exposing himself while the backup singer provides the comedy so needed in this tragedy by throwing up and the band plays on. This is merely a stage show! Look over on the side, there is the audience, silent and ghostly, observing but making no comment; an act made difficult without mouths. They observe the unfolding drama as judges, unable to provide assistance to any of the participants in the play and must sit and watch the action unfold. 

This is certainly an entertaining way to look at this one. It gives it some weight where there may not have been any in the first place. But isn't that so Shakespearian? Ordinary lives take on extraordinary properties and turn literature into scripture, passed down for the ages that repeat themselves forever.