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This coffee shop in Deep Ellum makes the most of a tiny space by going upward. In the small, loft-like space, the ascending stairs split two ways, into a living room area complete with funky furniture and a conference area with a long communal table for the more professional of midday online slackers. But seating can be competitive--either that or the commingling idea hasn't made its way to some Dallasites. Some people just don't like having to share a table or couch and simply walk back downstairs with their laptop cases unopened. Don't let that stop you. The soothing atmosphere of natural light and not-too-loud music makes for a relaxing kind of comfort where a neighbor is more than welcome. Oh, and the coffee's good too!
It's not often a Genesis music video will be followed by some campy obscure movie clip and then lead into the Aphex Twins. Joseph Howington transcends the DJ label by taking all the rules of mixing and throwing them out the window. Perfecting his set at the Fallout Lounge last year, he fits perfectly into the Cavern's mlange of not-your-typical DJs. Mixing videos and music isn't a new idea, but the random playlist Howington gives the upstairs lounge does one of two things: He will either entrance you as you sit and anticipate his next tune, or he will put you on your feet. The fun part comes when asking him to play a certain video. Will he have it or not? Hard to say, but buying him a drink tends to help.
Practical but adventurous, logical but entertaining, business columnist Scott Burns made reading about boring stuff like retirement savings, estate planning and buying the perfect used Airstream trailer a lot of fun. OK, if not fun, then interesting. Burns was not part of the financial establishment, so he had no vested interests, almost impossible in the business of financial advice where everybody's selling something. He thought outside the box. Instead of giving advice on earning an extra $500 a month, he stressed finding ways to cut $500 in expenses. And most important, Burns reported on research firms and investment advisors that normal people have no access to. Yeah, it's easy to glaze over some of the details involving consumption indexes. But with most business writers stressing how to earn more, invest more, spend more, it was nice to see someone write about how to live more simply. Guess Burns can take some of his own good advice now. He was one of the journos to do the recent buy-out thing, though his syndicated column will still appear in the pages of the DMN.
Is there a better way to describe the Theater Fire than "the Fort Worth sound"? It's the phrase co-songwriter Curtis Glenn Heath picks when asked about the "border sound" tag the band has received countless times, thanks to its blend of mariachi and country. But there's more than a mix of classic AM radio signals at work on Everybody Has a Dark Side. Singers Heath and Don Feagin honed their songwriting chops during years in local space-rock bands, and that experience is evident in this sophomore album's all-acoustic arrangements. From the ambient tones filling the air of the sparse "Civil Warrior," to the contrasting, poking notes of banjo, fiddle and vibraphone in the title track, the stories of Southern vulnerability match the sound perfectly. "Useless and awkward/Like a flightless bird," Heath whimpers in his loving ode, "These Tears Could Rust a Train." In this song, a piece of pure songwriting with living room production that allows an acoustic slide guitar to echo as much as his sentiment, the Fort Worth sound doesn't get clearer.
The Rose Room is simply fantastic. With more than ample space for patrons, whether sitting at a row of tables, standing at the bar or flanking the stage, this place gets it right for high-quality drag shows. It's also drag queen heaven with a huge stage and even a dressing room. According to cast regular Cassie Nova, the previous accommodations were no bigger than a closet. There's irony in there somewhere. But with slick digs comes better drag shows, and the ladies give it all for your viewing pleasure. It's almost a shame the venue isn't used more for live music. Bands would probably kill to play here. But they'd have to go through Nova and the rest of the cast. And they have fingernails!
Nobody wants their tech support guy to be evil. It's emasculating enough that you can't make that 279-Error window go away, but does the guy really have to act like it's just so freaking easy? Dr. Emilio Bombay, the Star-Telegram's computer columnist, would likely answer a hearty "Yes!" to that question, followed by a long tirade about how you are, in fact, a blithering idiot. Yikes. Honing sarcasm down to a fine, fine art not seen in most major-market newspapers, Bombay manages to be both helpful and truly vile at the same time, as he responds to reader questions about tech problems, Internet privacy issues and the odd hardware bug. If you're like us, you'll always like the guy so long as you don't get any big ideas and write in. After one of his sharp skewerings, you'll tremble so hard at the sight of a Startle Gram you won't even be able to pick the thing up.
The first time we walked into Rogers Wildlife, Kathy Rogers was slicing up frozen baby mice. Their oozing red guts made us pause for a moment, forgetting why we were there. Then she showed us what the mice were for--barn owls that someone had rescued from a deer blind, barely downy and obviously helpless. Rogers seemed surprised that we wanted to walk around the place, but she welcomed us. The large property is home to an avian rehabilitation facility that treats songbirds and raptors plus a score of other animals Rogers has taken in as part of her USDA-licensed farm sanctuary. Rogers and her staff are always looking for volunteers to help care for the animals and the center. Not saying that any of our dear readers would ever be ordered by a court to perform community service, but if perchance you were, the wildlife center would be glad for your help.
An insightful writer in spite of--or perhaps because of--his reflective hatred of everything suburban, Dallas Morning News architecture critic David Dillon was a must-read in a city that is rapidly redefining how it looks. As new high-rises sprang up overnight, Dillon deftly cataloged the good, the bad and the sprawling, often making you wish planners had bothered to consult him personally before breaking ground. His reporting and commentary on Victory Park was fascinating, illustrating how the project emphasizes "streets, blocks and squares" unlike most of the city's flashy throw-'em-ups, which only look terrific from far away. Also memorable, his dressing-down of the horrific new shopping center at McKinney and Pearl. Dillon could be pretentious. His coverage of "Forward Dallas" was confused. But like all good critics, his value system was transparent. With Dallas battling futilely against suburban sprawl and urban blight, Dillon, yet another fine columnist lost to readers by the DMN's recent get-out/buyouts, pointed the way to what a real city could look like.
Maybe the first date is not the time to try to impress a woman with tales of your extensive gun collection (unless you're in East Texas, in which case it may win you a lot of points). Of course, you could just skip the small talk and take your date right to the Bullet Trap, where she'll whisper sweet nothings to you while you unload magazine after magazine from your Glock into a silhouette target. Or if you're not comfortable, uh, shooting on the first date, you can peruse their impressive selection of new and used firearms and accessories. (Tell her that if she's lucky, maybe she'll find a derringer in her stocking next Christmas.) If your lady's a safety girl, they offer classes for the novice and classes to qualify for a concealed-handgun permit. If you're packin', you want to make sure your woman knows how to handle your gun.
Some people wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on weekend mornings, ready to start their day with a jog 'round the lake or a trip to Whole Foods for some 40-grain, organic, free-range granola. Other people have to peel themselves off a drool-covered pillow and throw back three or four ibuprofen with a quart of steaming Colombian brew before anybody gets any big ideas about grocery shopping. Lament not, members of the second group; Gachet Coffee Lounge feels your pain. On Saturday mornings, a steady flow of hangover sufferers stumble into Gachet smelling of eau-de-last-night's-party. The baristas are gracious enough not to overdo the cheer--no morning with a hangover is a "good" morning, after all--and the custom brews are sure to brighten your eyes even if they don't bush up your tail. Not so bad when you consider you may run into Friday night's piece of tail at the milk-and-sugar stand. Awkward.

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