Yesterday Shane McGowan, the singer of The Pogues, passed on.

The inclusion of that song in this scene is my homage to Shane McGowan and that band. In retrospect, given McGowan’s wild lifestyle, it’s rather amazing that he lived as long as he did. But he’s given so much life as one of the most talented songwriters of my generation.

From my novel Stella Maris:

     “I don’t really know Sacramento all that well.”
     “I thought you were from here,” said Take.
     “Not here. San Francisco. This is a bit East a’ that.”
     They drove around, finding the main streets before turning down promising looking side streets.
     After passing by variety stores and a few independent restaurants, they found a corner bar, a pub called Barking Bulldogs. The door was covered with band stickers and they could hear the faraway sounds of thrash music.
     No one said anything. They all instinctively knew they were going to go to the pub the moment they saw it.
     Skye found a parking spot a few blocks away and they made their way to the pub.
     Walking in, their eyes had to adjust to the dark scene. The place was about half full. A couple of metalhead women were drinking at a high bar stool table by the one bright window in the place. At least half a dozen cap and boot boys in Derby jackets were crowding the bar, almost all of them drinking pints of beer. Several baldies in band shirts were playing pool at the other side of the bar near the jukebox. A trio of fashion punks with spikes and mohawks exploding from their heads were at a booth with pints of beer and baskets of fries. Some working class patrons were also interspersed throughout the place.
     “DRI,” said Jason.
     “What?” asked Take.
     “On the jukebox,” said Skye.
     They walked up to the bar and approached the short goth bartender with black bangs and heavy makeup. “Do we order food here or does someone come around?” asked Skye.
     “Just have a sit at any table and someone will come around for your food and drink orders.”
     “Hey, this is a classy joint!” said Take.
     “It don’ get no classier,” smiled the Goth bartender.
     They found a table by a small and dingy window in the corner of the bar.
     “Boot boys, punks, and metalheads,” said Jason. “Quite a menagerie they have here.”
     “It’s Sacramento,” said Skye. “It’s not like they got hipster dives on every corner.”
     “All the dirtbags gravitate to this enclave,” said Take.
     “Pretty much,” said Skye. “At least that’s what I’m guessin’. Like I said, I don’t know the scene around here that well.”
     A tall and skinny waiter with long and flat blonde hair and a Cradle of Filth shirt come to their table.
     “You got onion rings?” asked Skye.

     Skye sat back and patted her stomach. “Jesus, like I didn’t feel fat before.”
     “Oh fuck me,” said Take. “You’re not fat. How can you call yourself fat?”
     “Because she ate that whole basket of onion rings,” said Jason. “That basket was at least fifty thousand calories.”
     Skye leaned back in her chair as Jason and Take leaned on the table. They had order a good amount of food and had managed to eat all of it.
     “Drivin’ makes ya hungry,” said Skye. “I feel fuckin’ fat, an’ I still want a beer.”
     Jason looked at Skye. “You think they’ll sell to us?”
     Skye shrugged. “You could always try. They might be sketchy about keepin’ their liquor license though. Ain’tcha got a fake ID?”
     “We do got IDs,” said Take, “But I don’t think the bartenders drunk enough for them to work right now.”
     The cap and boots who had been hanging by the bar began to gather in a circle. They were all standing quietly as a song started up over the bar speakers. A slow accordion and quick a mandolin strum started up. A gravel voice kicked in and all of the caps and boots started singing along.
     “One summer evening, drunk to hell, I sat there nearly lifeless…”
     “Oh man, I love this song!” said Skye.
     “Me too,” said Jason.
     As the boot and cap boys sang with the song, a couple of pool-playing baldies walked up to the bar and started singing with them.
     “Let’s go join ’em,” said Skye.
     “We don’t even know them,” said Take.
     Jason stood up. “Let’s go!”
     By the time Skye and Jason had walked up to the singing crowd, several of the heavy metal women and a few of the fashion punks had also walked up to the bar and joined in on the sing along. Everyone knew the lyrics and was singing along in near near-perfect unison.
     “For a paaaair of broooown eeeeeyes, foooor a paaair of broooown eeeeeeeyes!”
     The song slowed down and started to fade away. The bar singers clinked glasses. A couple of the cap boys turned around and touched glasses with Skye, who was holding on to her pint.
     “That was fuckin’ great!” yelled a tall and slim cap boy. “We don’t know half a’ you lot, and you all joined in anyways.”
     “We were playin’ that for our buddy Bonn,” announced the large cap boy.
     “Who’s Bonn?” asked one of the metal women.
     “Our friend Bonn who passed on last week. This was his favorite bar and that was his favorite song.”
     “You mean to tell me this guy’s dead and buried,” said Skye, “and he’s still causing a ruckus at the pub?”
     The cap boys laughed.
     “He did always stir shit up in his day,” said the tall and skinny cap boy.
     Skye walked up to the tall boy. “You guys all native?”
     “Most of us. Almost all of us grew up here. We met in high school. All of us were metalheads or rockers back in junior high. Then a few of us got into the mod scene, while a couple of us went punk.”
     “Sounds familiar,” said Skye. “I was an AM radio geek in high school until I met my friend Casey.”
     “She turned you to the dark side then?”
     “She warmed up to me after I got into a fight.”
     “Bonn was the one who recruited me. I was fresh from a suburban school, a place with a lot of fucked up rich kids who constantly fucked with me. By the time I got to high school I was skulking around in my black overcoat, just tryin’ to avoid people.”
     “I was the same way. I tried to ignore just about everyone when I first got to high school.”
     “Gil and his crew were always on the lookout for the weirdos and loners, the ones who didn’t fit in. They were always asking me to come along with them to shows and parties, just to give the oddballs a place to be. That’s what he did with me. Gil is the big boy over there,” said tall and Skinny as he pointed at the large cap boy.
     “He’s kinda like your leader then?”
     “He’s the most boisterous. He just kinda naturally takes charge. Plus he’s not as much as a fuck up as the rest of us lot.”
     Skye looked around at all the cap and boot boys. “So you really grew up with this whole gang?”
     “Yeah. Mostly. I mean, Gil was one of the original skinheads, back before they became fascist pricks. I was the tall punk with the five foot mohawk, and some a them lot were mods.”
     “They still mods?”
     Tall and skinny shrugged. “We don’t really go much for labels anymore. We relate more to punk than anything else. Doesn’t mean were above an English Beat show now and then.”
     Skye held out her hand. “I’m Skye.”
     “Jake-O,” said tall and skinny as he shook her hand.
     Skye saw Jason and Take talking to a few of the stray punks who were at the bar. Some of the baldies were talking with a few cap boys and the metal women.
     Gil held up his glass and spoke with a loud and booming voice to the entire crowd gathered by the bar. “You lot, all of you guys who aren’t part of our crew, the baldies, the rivetheads, these wayward punks over here,” said Gil as he waved a hand at Jason and Take, “You all must have an old mate, someone who always stirred it up, made a splash and kicked some ass and embarrassed the hell out of you and your friends once in awhile, someone who’s no longer with us. Tell us who they are. Let us know what they were like. You there!” Gil pointed at one of the baldies.
     “Oh fuck yeah, that would be our ol’ friend Horse,” said the taller baldy. “He kicked ass, got wasted, and always had a big smile on his face. A real fuckin’ joker, even when he was getting us all in trouble.”
     Gil turned to the metal women. “How about you two? Anyone you miss?”
     A tall woman wearing a Slayer shirt and exploding black hair piped up. “That was our friend Carli. Always drinkin, fuckin’, an’ fightin’. She was always front row and railin’ at every show we went to. She was like a goddamn hurricane. We could hardly keep up with her, but we always got swept up by her anyways. She was goin’ probably about a hundred miles an hour on her bike when she bought it.”
     Gil turned and looked at Skye, Jason, and Take, as Jason and Take had gravitated over to Skye and were standing right by her. “What about you guys? Anyone you lost? Anyone you can’t help but remember?”
     Skye stopped herself for a moment. She looked at Jason and Take who looked back at her. Skye turned to Gil and piped up. “I lost my friend Casey. She was such a kick in the pants she would get everyone riled up. No one was safe when she was around. She always started a ruckus. She was the best brawler I ever knew, and she could drink anyone under the table. And when she saw someone getting harassed or bullied, she always stepped in and made it right. She threw sass better than anyone. She was our leader, and no one had to tell us she was.”
     Gil lifted his pint glass and looked up at the ceiling, as if he were looking at the sky. “There you have it, Bonn. You got some mates up there in that messed up punk dive in the sky. Horse, Carli, and Casey. Look ’em up and start a ruckus. You aren’t alone Bonn, especially if these crazy fuckers in this bar are any evidence!”
     The cap boys let out a hurrah. Everyone else joined in with a cheer.
     “For all of our lost shit stirrers!” yelled Jake-O.
     Another Pogues song started up. Everyone started singing along once more.
     Gil spoke to the crowd once again after the song was over. “I’ll tell you what. I can’t afford to buy a round for the house, but I will buy one pint of beer for Bonn. I just need someone to volunteer to drink it for him.”
     Skye walked up right next to Gil. “Hey, I’m buying that pint. I’ll buy it for your friend Bonn and for the volunteer who drinks it.”
     Gil put his arm around Skye. “You are a good friend, lovely lady.”
     “Did you just call me a lady?”
     “Watch it Gil,” said Jake-o. “She gonna punch you.”
     Gil took back his arm. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
     “Yes!” said Skye. “Now I’m buyin’ Bonn’s pint. Who’s drinkin’ it?”
     “How about me?” asked the short and young flight jacket.
     “I think Bob should do it,” replied the tall cap boy as he indicated the large and wide cap boy.
     “Naw, that’s not the Bonn way,” said Bob. Bob walked up to Jason and put his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I’ll tell ya what, have your new young friend here drink it for Bonn.”
     “But I didn’t even know him,” said Jason.
     “You know us now,” said Gil, “And you know this pub now, and that’s good enough to know Bonn. He was the spirit of this place and all of us, so Bonn’s pint that’s bein’ bought by a new friend should be drunk by a new friend.” He turned to his gang of boot and caps. “Whattaya say boys?”
     They all cheered.”
     “Okay, what’s his beer?” asked Skye.
     “We’re doin’ Newcastles tonight,” said Jake-O. “But Bonn wasn’t particular, so long as it’s good stuff.”
     Skye bought a pint of Newcastle and handed it to the underage Jason.
     As Jason took the pint, Gil walked up to Jason. “What’s your name son?”
     “I’m Jason.”
     “Oh man,” exclaimed the young flight jacket, “Not another Jason!”
     “Another Jason!” shouted Bob and the tall and skinny cap boy in unison.
     One of the flight jackets held up his pint. “Jasons! We are everywhere!”
     “To Jasons!” shouted the gang of caps and boots.
     “To Bonn!” proclaimed Jason.
     “To Bonn!” shouted the crowd.
     Everyone tipped their glasses as an English Beat song started up.
     Take sided up next to Skye. “Sorry about your friend Casey.”
     “Oh. Yeah.” Skye leaned in and talked quietly. “She’s actually not dead, she’s just missing.”
     Take’s eyes widened. “No shit?”
     “Yeah. Don’t tell those guys though. I don’t want it to spoil the vibe.”
     “Just missing though? You sure she’s just missing?”
     Skye looked out at the crowd. “I don’t know much of anything right now.”