Day 50

A picture of my most frequented place:

Culver City, CA.  Yeah, I used to leave the Valleys.

I grew up near this establishment, and often passed it in my travels - it's on Sepulveda Blvd., pretty much the main north-south non-highway artery in LA.  Look at the facade; I think young Dash can be forgiven for assuming it was a strip joint.

In 2004, one of the Vassar alums (not yet a friend, exactly) tipped us off to this place.  Good karaoke, she said, and you can smoke inside.  The latter was only appealing to her and to me, but the VC crew came in force - and fell in love.  It's a tiny room, but still makes space for the karaoke jockey, the bar, two pool tables, and a large framed print of Queen's Bicycle Race/Fat Bottomed Girls poster...you know which one I mean.  At the Tatt, I sang for my 'supper' - on karaoke nights, I hardly ever paid for a drink.

It was in this room that karaoke replaced collegiate a cappella as my dominant performance medium; it was in this room that my alcoholism progressed well past "functional."  Leaving this room and heading back to the Valley, I was arrested for driving under the influence.  It was August 12th, 2005 - Matt's birthday, the first he'd not live to see.

Since getting sober, I've maintained my deep affection for karaoke; I've peddled my vocal wares about town in many establishments of varying respectability.  I haven't returned to the Tattle Tale.  Something inside me knows: if I head back there, it won't be just to sing.

Actually, now that I think about it, this place has probably become Dive Bar: Hipster Central since last I crossed its threshold.  So if I ever return, it'll be with a frag grenade and a mission from God.