“All these boats have supply, but nowhere to go.” “Our shellfish business died overnight.”
For days, he and his crew had been converting dorm rooms into shelters for those experiencing homelessness while the predicted peak of coronavirus pandemic looms. “I felt like I needed to do my part to help, and this was my chance.”
“We’re the definition of hands-on workers. We’re pretty much breathing the same air as our customers.”
Barbers who are also touring musicians. Cosmetologists who wait tables at night. What it’s like to be doubly and triply screwed by COVID-19.
“I used to work for NASA, had a sweet job making $29.90 an hour. Then Obama come in and said, ‘We don’t need no space program no more.’”
A weekly calendar might look like this: all-ages hardcore matinee on Sunday, up-and-coming rock showcase on Tuesday, Afro-pop extravaganza Wednesday, head-banging metal on Thursday, vintage blues on Friday, all topped off with a ’60s rock legend in town on Saturday night.
While the spectacle of Encore is surely that of a glitzy Vegas-style refuge for high rollers and big spenders, the heads on hand for fight night came from a whole other planet altogether.
It all goes down at the Paradise on Jan 11, when South Shore stalwarts Worm will also join various Gang Green alumni on stage to raise money for Doherty’s recovery. Truth is, he can’t live without it.
Daybreak at a semihistoric MBTA station you have never heard of and will probably never use
“If Blue Dream is in high demand, but is unavailable, we can network”