Love to the Luna Star

A propos of nothing, I have to give a brief shout out the Luna Star Cafe.

In a city like ours which doesn’t offer much in the way of clean wel lit places, this cozy eatery/bar/music venue/cafe located just across the street from MOCA on 125th St in North Miami is run, frequented and populated by earnest, folksy people who congregate in a decor that looks a little bit like your amnesiac boozehound of a grandmother had started taking the homey furniture in her apartment and nailed some pieces upside down to the ceiling while adding random things that she had found out in the garage, all the while still not quite loosing the quaint feeling (complete with cats curled up in nooks).

You know how old school they are at the Luna Star:
1. Their hours of operation are “Open in the evenings until the action winds down.”
2. Luna Star’s owner and her customers protested vehemently against the Starbucks that recently opened across the street even though their hours don’t really conflict just on the basis that Starbucks represent the “Evil Empire”.
3. They host their webiste on geocities (remember geocities)
4. Their menu warns, “We do not have sliced citrus for your ice water or iced tea. Besides, you should be drinking beer.”

They have all kinds of shows and acts that come through the Luna Star as well as an extensive beer list and short but tasty food menu but, for my money, the way to experience it at its fullest is to catch the open Mic night which happens the second and fourth saturday night of every month. Many of the regular patrons pic up a guitar, harmonica, piano or whatever happens to be lying around (some have been known to just bang on chairs if necessary) to perform the most heartfelt versions of songs you have ever heard. It is hard to describe the magic of watching people who, irrespective of talent, crack themselves open and lay themselves out to tunes they love. I honestly had never hear Scarborough Fair until I heard the bluesy heartbroken story sung from 8 feet away after 4 or 5 bears. It was enough to make a grown man cry.

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