Salutations One and all,
I’m confused about who this email is to be sent, so I sent it to all of yuh from whom I’ve received emails on this nascent network.
After clicking on the URLs and scopin’ the next Algonquin Roundtable, alack, I can choose not.
For me, it’s location, location, location, so I like the Gershwin Hotel; however, as it is a hotel for composers and not scribes, I have my reservations. Composers (and scribes) can be an ornery lot. Still there is the chance one of the composer conclaves may be looking for librettists and we are sure to fit the bill.
The Piano bar seems okay as well, although instead of composers, it may be packed with musicians playing riffs while waiting for the composers from the Gershwin to head downtown and discover them. Again, I have my reservations for much the same reason as above.
The Bowery Poetry Club, in a fine location, close to the best bar in the city for a Manhattan and the best bar for a Nigroni, has one minor drawback: It’ll be filled with poets, a bohemian lot that may cause much distraction for me. And once the pods of poets discover we’re a school of screenwriters, they may laugh us right out of the club for our ineptitude to scribble full length screenplays in metered verse within one or two pages. There is the chance we could convince them we, screenwriters, are writers of epic poetry, but it might be a stretch.
The Stainbar – The Stainbar. Well, while purported to be easy to reach for those who are close to the L, it is a journey of substantial import for the likes of me, however, as I go by the name squalid, what could be more perfect than round tabling in a stain? And, most important, Our intrepid Mr. Rhyce, knows the owner. Massive plus! Good publicity for said owner as word spreads that Stainbar has become the new Algonquin Roundtable!
The Baggot Inn, a fine name for a conclave, and in a super location, easy to get to (for me). Not overly trafficked, since it’s on the west side and not the east side, fewer people leaving us plenty of room to converse without the need for Chloraseptic®. In the section of town steeped in literary history. Perhaps too much literary history, but I believe we’ll survive. It’s also close to the Blue Ribbon -- home to the cooks and chefs in the city when dinner service is over for the night and it’s time to drink and eat someone else’s cooking.
Well, I’m all for meeting next week. Any day ‘cept Thurs is fine for me, so I’ll be there, wherever it is.
Heigh ho,
squalid (geoff)