La Bocca Del Toro

The Mouth of the Bull... AKA How BS began...

So, as folks that never knew where Apalachicola was, nor would have ever thought we would have run a music venue in the panhandle of Florida, we find ourselves in a very strange paradigm, and ask ourselves often...  well.... how the hell did we get there??
Now that we have sold and began to move onto new adventures, we thought we would write a book (originating in Blog format)... well not so much a book but rather an explanation or better said ...an exploration, or even more so an exploration... of why... or how.... but ultimately a tale about the trials and tribulations of how something, anything for that matter, manifests itself.  But in particular in this case that something that manifested itself, or festered like a disgusting infected boil... became Bowery Station.  Essentially and ultimately...well... why.... That's BS!

What will follow in this escapade of a tortured memoir, is a history, a down to earth, real life explanation of how Bowery Station came to be, and perhaps why it ended.  From the essence of who we are, who we were, and what inspiration created the small, humble, lost in time music venue that had become what it was...a space so many found to be home... the joyful, performer centric music venue in the last part of old Florida that we all have come to love and appreciate.

Herein, entwined in factual history, you will find truth, guttural honesty, detailed information, mixed with embellishment when needed, and even yarns of service industry woes. (Not to mention run on sentences!)  Those painful and empathetic tales of the service industry will be easily recognized by those who serve the public, and this is coupled with some straight out bitchin'... cause we all bitch.  Anyone who takes on a creative project knows, you will be faced with adoration mixed equally with critique... which requires a vent to exhaust such frustration.   Deal with it.  You will find it herein as well.

It is a history, a story riddled with rumor and whereby we will set the record straight.  Some may see their face in the story line, others may feel they resemble an individual character, but rest assured all the names and faces have been fairly well replicated so as to portray exactly who the scoundrels are, but we will cover our asses well enough to provide plausible deniability.  So let the lawyers sort it out if there are any "crybabies," .... after we publish and make our millions on selling this poor excuse for toilet paper...of course.   Some folks and businesses will be referenced by their real names, mainly because we trust them not to sue us, or we hope our yarns will compliment their own business efforts.

Sections of this diatribe will be denoted by an historical and factual section, alternating with service industry woes, and ultimately painfully true anecdotes that have occurred at Bowery Station.  It is composed primarily in the first person, from my perspective, but representative of OUR perspective, both Lisa's... my proofreading consigliere... and mine.

So enjoy, or should this rambling eventually make it to print form... use each page as a much better purpose...if you have placed it appropriately atop the old crapper tank as bathroom reading material.

Stay tuned as The Bowery Station Story unfolds in the first episode.... The Hay That Fed the Bull!

(*Please note that all blog posts associated with the story of BS will all appear under the category of The Bowery Station Story)