My Favorite Bar By Marni Spencer-Devlin

thetoast.png
"Something unique and outside of the box done by one of the exceptional writers of the  Long Beach Library Coffeehouse's, Writing Group - Author MarniSpencer-Devlin. who took the writing prompt of the day,  called 'My Favorite Bar'-  and made it her own."
- Calvin Harris, H.W.,M
Photo by Artisit Juan Coronado

Photo by Artisit Juan Coronado

What makes a bar a favorite? In most cases it isn’t the beautiful or stylish interior, is it? Most bars are quite the opposite of stylish, or even clean, for that matter. Sticky floors, sticky counters, sticky toilets – everything most people would abhor in their regular life so what can make a bar a favorite place to be? It’s the people. Cheers had it right – the place where everybody knows your name. Where people know you and your foibles, and they still want to hang out with you! The place where you feel accepted and maybe even appreciated for being you. It doesn’t get any better than that. It’s what life is really all about.

The Long Beach Library Coffee House.jpg

For me that place isn’t really even a bar. It’s the Library – and it’s not a library either. It’s a funny excuse for a coffee house with mismatched furniture and a perpetually stinky, unisex bathroom. But it’s the place where my beloved writer buddies hang out with me. Once a week, or as often as we can. But when it comes together it’s the best day of the week.

 

 

Photo by Calvin Harris

Photo by Calvin Harris

THE ART OF WRITING.jpg

Writing is a funny thing when it’s done right. It’s an intimate, bare-all, no-holds-barred, kind-of-thing. Where you put yourself out there, courageously, and you write what’s in your soul for all the world to see. It could be a scary place but it is isn’t when you’re around a group of similar miscreants who similarity put themselves out there with courage and talent and heart and soul. It’s the stuff that life is made of. Most don’t ever get to experience that much fun. Because they don’t have the guts to go there. Because they make excuses not to. But my buddies make time and show up and are there. And I appreciate them all so much and they me.

Ironic that all that would be found in a usually dark, dank, sticky place with crooked furniture. Life’s messy, I guess. Isn’t that what makes it so fun, after all?

Holly center.jpg