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Volume 3, Issue 10
May 10 - May 23, 2001
NAKED BOBBY
@
CAFE CERO
1446 S. Broadway,
303-282-1446
Tu-Sa 4p-2a, Su 6p-2a
First of all if you haven't seen or read
Naked Lunch I'm sorry!
Do so now! It will change your life as
it has done mine! On that note come with
me, on a journey, not of sight and sound but of
mind ... next stop ... Interzone!
I was lurking around Broadway late one
night listening to the Apocalypse Now
soundtrack and driving really, really slow.
It was one of those semi-depressive
slightly psychotic nights ruled by a
Scorpio moon, which tends to leave me
with little direction and even less reality-based
thought. Then, tucked between a
couple strips of antique stores, I saw
something inviting. It appeared to be a little
house with a large patio, with a neon
sign that simply said "Cero's."
"Gotta check it out," I thought to myself,
as I pulled over. Once inside the dimly
lighted stucco walls I felt immediately at
home. I headed into the back room and
laid down on one of the leather couches.
A waitress appeared and asked if I needed anything.
"Yeah, a good shrink," I thought to myself, but I
just asked for a virgin Bloody Mary and left
it at that. As I lay there, I began to feel
a sense of nostalgia. I remember thinking,
"What does this place remind me of? Some
place from long ago."
I was letting my head lay back over
the end of the leather couch watching the
ceiling fans turn lazily, when it hit me:
Naked Lunch! Interzone, that was what
this felt like. No, there were no strange
creatures exuding intoxicating fluid, or
giant bugs masquerading as typewriters,
but a self indulgent, almost lascivious
vibe permeated the air. Somewhere from
deep in the back of my mind a voice
whispered, "It's a literary high, a Kafka
kind of vibe, ya dig?" My waitress asking
if I wanted to order interrupted my train
of thought. She offered a few specials and
suggestions, and not wanting to hassle
with the whole menu process I accepted a
couple of her offerings.
I ordered the calamari with marinara over
linguini, and brie with roasted garlic for
an appetizer. Some offbeat jazz filled the
air, lending even more of a surreal
Interzone flavor to the evening. I floated
back into my own little shadowy world. It
was kind of weird how the sort of south-western
décor, combined with the dim
groovy lighting and my aforementioned
creepy state of mind became more and
more licentious. I was just basking in the
warm darkness of my memories when the
brie and roasted garlic arrived.
"I could get very used to this," I thought
as I smeared the cheese on a piece of
toasted baguette and topped it with some
garlic. Before long, my main course
arrived; still laying languidly
on the couch, I reached
toward the plate and took
a finger full of the succulent
sauce and gingerly touched it to
my lips, savoring it, then a little more
then a little more, before I knew it I was
sitting up and eating it
with both hands. It disappeared
almost immediately, and I ordered more.
When that was gone, I was stuffed
but I ordered more anyway! The night's
live entertainment had started, but I was
too involved in my gorge fest to register
what or who it was.
It was getting close to closing time when
I finished my third plate of pasta madness,
but felt compelled to take some
home so I ordered some to go. As I pulled
away from the restaurant, I could smell
the contents of the styrofoam container in
the passenger seat. Before I realized what
I was doing, I had pulled over, devoured
my to go order and was licking the container.
So full I could barely drive, I headed for
home. Once I arrived, I started thinking
about Cero's, about Interzone, but most
of all about marinara. I started looking all
over the house for it, rifling through the
cabinets, digging through the trash looking
for the to-go container I had already
licked clean.
I was acting like a full-fledged junkie.
"It's marinara sauce, get yourself together
man!" I screamed inside my head. I
shall never forget the unspeakable horror
that froze the lymph in my glands, when
the baneful words seared my reeling
brain: "I'm addicted to marinara calamari."
In a flash I was back in my car and
headed for my 'connection'.
I drove back by the place, but they were
closed. What was I gonna do? I started to
creep around the building, to try the windows
and doors, when I realized that my
affinity for this delicacy had gone too far!
I could see myself walking the streets in a
daze, like a man with a mild concussion,
waiting to self-destruct. I thought of the
intoxicating qualities of giant aquatic
Brazilian centipede meat (see the movie).
"People don't get addicted to pasta. It's
just the moon playing tricks on my
mind," I thought as I walked back to the
car. "I've got lots of things I can do. I
know, I'll write my review!"
As a matter of fact I'm writing this on my
laptop in my car outside Cero's, only nine
more hours until they open.... A
www.noctul.com
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