95/365 Diana
To get to the G-Spot, you went to the corner on Saturday night and down the concrete stairs. Inside, Diana (in her leather-clad buffness) would tickle yours with espresso and sweets while dimly lit artists and the ex-urbanchic smoked and scribbled on slate tabletops.
posted by Indigo Bunting at 8:10 AM
9 Comments:
"leather-clad buffness" is a colorful phrase. What sort of establishment was this so-called G-Spot?
It really was just a coffeehouse of sorts that Diana threw together weekends. It wasn't obvious or advertised—you kinda had to know about it. (The G conveniently echoed the first initial of the town it was in.)
I visited twice, and found a bunch of fascinating, hip misfits. Low on the hipness scale, I never quite fit in, but liked the ambiance anyway.
Deloney, you and Maureen and I must make a field trip to Maine someday.
Oops--to Vermont. With a side trip to Maine. :-)
Susan: We Vermonters can often be found hanging out in Maine. As you know, I've already spent a little time posting from Portland...
I've heard rumours of this establishment, but I always thought it was a myth. Perhaps a trip to Vermont is in order.
Once Bush's new legislation goes through Maureen and I will need passports to get into the U.S. Maybe we'll just dress up as Juan and Juanita (the Mexican Sonny and Cher) and discreetly walk across the border.
It'll work, Del. BTW, I was half expecting someone to tell me they knew Grateful Ed. I think he's made a bit of a splash in Maine.
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