Epiphanize @ The Tam
The roomies and I love to philosophize; on a nightly basis, we cover topics ranging from Astronomy to Religion to Politics to whether or not Katie Holmes is a robot. Fourth parties usually assume we’re baked, but that’s not always the case. Questions like “isn’t it so weird how we, as creatures, are each assigned our own little names?” and “have you ever really thought about how BIG the universe is?” are apparently strange ones to ask, but we consider ourselves true theorists whose relentless philosophical discussions often result in groundbreaking epiphanies.
I woke up today with an unbelievable urge to epiphanize (the unofficial verb form). The roomies were passed out, which ruled out conversation. I considered faking a near-death experience in an attempt to see my life flash before my eyes, but decided that would be the half-ass route, and instead took a two hour, epiphaniless shower. Boo.
When the roomies finally awoke, I explained my longing; they understood completely. We all have these days, and we all know what they call for: a trip to The Tam, the diviest dive bar in Boston.
The Tam provides us with the cheapest drinks in town and a jukebox offering every cheesy 80’s single imaginable. There is no better way to epiphanize than to drown yourself in blue-bottled Bud Lights, blast some Blondie, and rub elbows with Emerson hipsters. There’s something about the cheap christmas lights and chilled-out bartenders that never fails to put all three of us into states of nirvana. We often find ourselves so floored by our own realizations that we scream them across the bar to random strangers.
Last night, Suez hit me with this one: “A stereotypical image of a stoner is some doped up guy saying, ‘It’s all good, dude.’ Right? And we, as creatures, have come to understand this saying as one synonymous with, ‘I forgive you.’ But do you know what he’s really saying? He’s saying…it’s ALL good. EVERYTHING is good. Life is fucking GOOD!”
“Life is fucking good!” I slurred back, twirling around to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’. “Especially if you’re a pothead! That must be why potheads always say it!”
“EXACTLY!” She roared with a theatrical fist pump as Brian moonwalked past.
But the epiphany of the night was quite simple: Nothing compares to Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares 2 U.
Oh I LOVE THAT SONG!
Awesome post. Found your page by randomly searching for stuff about The Tam. I was a regular there for a few years before moving out to Portland, Oregon. I had on more than one occasion also referred to it as “the diviest dive in Boston” to friends from out of town.
Anyway, my point in searching was that there’s nothing on Facebook about The Tam, and so I’m going to create a fan page. Should be up in a day or two. Stop on by if you’d like.