Date:         Mon, 30 Nov 1992 00:38:00 EST
From: Blue eyes cryin' in the rain <>
Subject:      Re: WHTUILKY

        My commentary is shaped largely around Brad's primary sources:

>I thought I took notes, but all I find is a crumpled piece of paper with
>this cryptic inscription:

>    Thai   chicken satay   peanut / hot / curry

        I arrived at the appointed meeting-ground, Hawley-Cooke Booksellers in
        Louisville, approximately an hour early, intending to browse its many
        shelves while seeking fellow congregants.  Marty had called earlier in
        the day, checking in and wondering whether spouses/SOs were included; I
        was non-committal on that account.

        When I got there, a quick circumnavigation of the store revealed that
        Brad was already on hand.  We talked briefly with one of the store's
        owners, who related her fears that the K-Mart/Borders superstores may
        decide to force out independents like H-C.  We agreed that the Wal-Mart
        method of market penetration seems all but inevitable.

        Brad introduced me to his friend Mark Ingram, UK medical librarian,
        Medline-searcher extraordinaire, and (I now reveal to one and all) a
        WORDS-L lurker.  We soon decided to grab a bite to eat before the later
        brewpub bouts.

        Our eventual lunch destination was the Thai-Siam Restaurant, an
        unpretentious spot in the same strip mall as H-C.  Mark and I each
        wanted just a spring roll and soup (Brad wasn't eating), but the menu
        didn't appear to include a la carte items and we couldn't convey our
        requests before three spring rolls appeared -- each 'complete lunch'
        came with the spring roll and salad.  We eventually convinced the staff
        that Mark and I would share one order of the above-mentioned chicken
        satay and get an extra spring roll.  While Brad sipped his Sinha
        (preparing his palate, he said, for the group gathering at the
        microbrewery), he wrote our comments on the satay sauce.

        Stomachs no longer empty, we strolled back to Hawley-Cooke, rapidly
        collecting Marty (sans Mary) and the two represetatives of STATLG-L,
        Rodger Payne and Mark Tucker.  We expected John Gubert as well, and
        waited half an hour past the appointed hour, but alas he failed to join
        us.  Perhaps he *did* show up, examining our motley crew from a safe
        distance, or perhaps even having the audacity to  the shelves
        next to us before choosing not to unveil himself.

>and a barbecue-sauce stained menu from some place called the "Silo
>Brew Pub"

        The decision to adjourn to said brew pub was all but unanimous.  I rode
        there with Marty.  It's a new place (Louisville is always somewhere
        between a year and a decade behind the national trends), located in an
        old grain storage facility, hence Brad's later comments about the
        granary/monolith.  It seems quite popular.  There's a large dining room
        and a roomy bar area, with the fermentation tanks visible behind the
        bar.  We gathered around a couple of tables, ordered a round of Silo
        Red Ale (that's an approximation of the name), sat on our stools,
        sipped the tasty but not memorable staff of life, and talked.  Small
        sample glasses of their Amber Lager (decent) and Raspberry Beer
        ('odious' was one of the most descriptive adjectives) were passed
        around, addition pints were consumed, food consumed.  The pork barbeque
        was OK, though too sweet and insufficiently spicy for me.  Some had hot
        pretzels, nothing like the storied street food of Philadelphia, and
        Marty ordered chili.  No one asked him whether it contained chocolate.

        The conversation revolved around nothing and everything, threads were
        interwoven and transformed.  All in all, a wordslesque experience, done
        face to face.

>and a book (Guy Davenport's -Every Force Evolves a Form-)
>with a sticker on it reading

>    Hawley-Cooke Booksellers   $1.98

>(three Pittsburgh-skyline postcards tucked inside)

        Everyone back at my mother-in-law's house was SHOCKED that I returned
        from the outing carrying no books.  Alas, finding Brad so quickly kept
        me from the shelves.  The postcards had been promised to Brad after the
        skyline thread of weeks past.  I didn't check to see whether he reacts
        to skyline postcards the same way he told us he does when seeing the

>Such are the souvenirs of my Words-L post-Thanksgiving outing.
>Did I mention the strong barley aftertaste?  And, oh yes, the huge
>concrete granary right outside the bar -- I'll dream about that monolith
>tonight, I'm sure.

>Neal and Marty were both there, so the occasion will not go
>unmemorialized once they get back to their machines.

>Also in attendance:  Rodger Payne and Mark Tucker (STATLG-L); Mary
>Rosen (Words-L Auxiliary); Mark Ingram (Gemeinschaft "Freunde der
>Worte"); and Kathleen Didn't-Catch-Her-Last-Name-or-Affiliation-But-

        Mary showed up at the brew pub about halfway through the afternoon.  It
        was not clear to me whether Kathleen just happened upon us, or whether
        she had been invited to meet Mary there.

        We learned that both Marks, Mary, and Marty were the only 'locals' in
        the group.  As wordslers know well, unaccented Brad hails from
        Mississippi and I was born in Philadelphia and raised in South Jersey.
        Kathleen is from Queens, though she doesn't sound it, and Rodger is a
        Kansan.  Which reminds me that the Oklahoma-Nebraska football game was
        visible throughout the afternoon.  Rodger supported the Huskers,
        because that would assure Kansas of finishing high enough in the Big
        Eight to get a bowl bid.  I supported Oklahoma, because my
        brother-in-law from Colorado wanted the Golden Buffalos to go to the
        Orange Bowl instead of Nebraska.  Neither of us actually cared a bit
        about the two teams playing the game itself.

>Wherever two or three are gathered...


        Aside from JAG's absence, the real disappointment was that we never got
        to drink any Oertel's '92, being revived after an absence from the
        Louisville beer scene of several decades.  Brad will, I'm certain, make
        another trip to the River City to sample it.

neal    traven@pittvms                  Bitnet          412-624-0097 (office)         Internet        412-624-0110 (fax)
                    "You're only young once, but you can be immature forever."
                                          -- Larry Andersen, relief pitcher