The End of the Beginning of the End
Well another folk venue bites the dust, well bites. A certain open mike at which I have sung, with a few friends at times... well now they charge to get on stage. That is it. You know, I will play for free, but to be asked to pay to play, not me. It is the end of seeing musicians in New York go from workers to treasured guests, to tolerated, to now, well, used.
So, here we are again... we old folkies... me old folkie? One more place to be drops off the face of the earth. Fewer to no folks to share small happiness or big disappointments, health or illness. Life in New York at 50 in this cold assed century.