9 - 21 - 2023
A night that will live rent free in my mind for the rest of my days, of which I hope there are many. The night air was warmer than expected on this evening of despair in the once great and beautiful city of Portland Oregon. Tonight the dredges were out in force; real red blooded Americans would feed their hunger for horror fueled reckless abandon. The stage in which our ritualistic degeneracy would unfold was set in the dank cryptic basement of The Coffin Club - the newly rebranded now defunct goth haven The Lovecraft Bar. A line, short it may have been, formed along the outskirts of the venue. The eager faces gleamed in the streetlamp light, black leather, chains, and face piercings sparkled as headlight beams illuminated us like spotlights. Our line stood fast like a legion of Orks starving for war and at the signal we besieged the compound. The walls humming with the history and sweat of a million crusty punks and the tween goth girlfriends close in tow, the floorboards steeped in stories of cheap booze, blood and sweat, and piss and vinegar - like the decks of a ghostly pirate ship lost at sea. Skeletons and coffins granted us a comfortingly spooky sight amongst the black stucco and iron bars. The horde descended into the belly of the beast, ready and willing to die for the chance to behold their idols, the mob waited as the gatekeeper held fast. Others quickly surrounded the barmaid and demanded inebriation. Cerveza would fuel my rage on this battlefield - rejoice the beer flows easily in this crypt.