Well, that blaze-and-noise boy, he’s gunnin’ that bitch loaded to blastin’ point
He rides head first into a hurricane and disappears into a point
And there’s nothin’ left but some blood where the body fell, that is, nothin’ left that you could sell

Life is a mystery. We all wander through hoping somehow we find something, a sign, that says You’re doing this right. And the truth is no one really knows. So we fearlessly wake up each and every day, brew our cup of coffee, look in the mirror and say to ourselves Here we go. If you have ever felt like Bruce looks here, keep reading.

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Back after weeks in Nowhereland, USA, and the B.S.O.Q. is thrilled to be back in your brains, your hearts and your computers. Let me start by saying thank you to all my lovers and supporters. This guy in the back of the room knows what I’m talkin’ about! Hey Bob, keep on truckin’, I LOVE YOU MAN !

On a serious note, I was gone for a while dealing with some family stuff. It was a very enlightening experience. When you live in the old NYC, sometimes you think you’re life is so busy that you don’t have time to make a phone call once or twice a week. You think that your life of social calendars and house-warming parties and running for trains is more important than REAL LIFE and RELATIONSHIPS (at least more pressing), and all things outside of the 5 boroughs can wait.

But when something happens, and you find out you might be losing someone you love. Then you’re not so sure anymore. Everything stops.

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In a historically Irish neighborhood like Sunnyside, few would expect anything worthwhile in the arena of Thai food, Mai Thai boxing or even Thai iced tea. Lucky for us, life is full of surprises, one of the most delightful so far being

DEE Thai Restaurant
46-17 Queens Blvd (Betw. 46th St. and 47th St.)
Sunnyside, NY 11104
Phone: (718) 786-3137

Known affectionately by its regulars as Dee, this diamond in the rough has the basics down pact. Pad thai: phenomenal. Chicken satay: satay your momma. When it comes to the special talents round, there is no dip in performance. The curry puffs: rock your world little country girl good. Drunken noodles: drunk like your Uncle Harry good. Just close your eyes and point.

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From I’m on Fire:

Hey little girl is your daddy home
Did he go away and leave you all alone
I got a bad desire
I’m on fire

In a small corner of the universe somewhere between Pluto and Badass (formerly known as Uranus) lives a Mecca of liquid delight. Open your mouths, close your eyes and get ready, cuz Daddy’s got a big surprise . . . of cold cerveza, and the longest, most beautiful piece of oak this side of the Mississippi.

Courtyard Bar
40-18 Queens Blvd.
Sunnyside, NY 11104
(Take the 7 Train to 40th St.)
Phone: (718) 729-4601

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Free Friday Night Concerts

In the true spirit of the The Boss, Sunnyside Gardens Park is offering the free S#*% to the workin’ man. So when you clock out from that 9 to 5, you can live out the song that plays in my head all day Friday — “Everybody’s Workin’ for the Weekend!”

Life is sweet! Taste the nectar! Smell the roses! Hear the music! And come on down to the only park in Queens (maybe the world) where you can buy a big ‘ol roasted chicken ($7), enjoy a cold Coors Light or Budweiser ($2) and listen to a badass Jazz band (freakin’ free).

Normally a private park, take advantage of this shindig every Friday through August 1st for a festive, laid-back hoe-down great for the family or just suckin’ down a cheap cold beer while you wiggle your toes in the grass. But bring your own bamboo umbrellas.

Sunnyside Gardens Park
Fridays at 7:00 p.m. through August 1st
718-672-1555
48-21 39th Avenue
Between 48th and 50th Streets
(7 train to 46th Street)
Sunnyside, New York

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Born down in a dead man’s town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog thats been beat too much
Till you spend half your life just covering up

Born in the U.S.A., I was born in the U.S.A.

The BSOQ here, stroking my Springsteenian scruff, a little disillusioned. After a confusing Independence Day in this U.S. of A., I have one question: Where are the true Americans?

A day meant for listening to The Boss and high-fiving, it seems some people have forgotten what this holiday is all about. They’ve resorted to a fast food, low-carb, high-bullshit approach to liberty. You can’t Google your way to the heart and soul of America.

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Fat man sitting on a little stool
Takes the money from my hand while his eyes take a walk all over you
Hands me the ticket smiles and whispers good luck

Cuddle up angel cuddle up my little dove
We’ll ride down baby into this tunnel of love

In the heart of Queens, snuggled in between an old Irish pub and an antique “free detergent on Tuesday” laundromat, there is a tunnel of love . I have seen the light and it is glorious.

Quaint
46-10 Skillman Ave
Sunnyside, Queens 11104
(917) 779-9220

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From Thunder Road:

Darling you know just what I’m here for
So you’re scared and you’re thinking
That maybe we ain’t that young anymore

Show a little faith there’s magic in the night
You ain’t a beauty but hey you’re alright
Oh and that’s alright with me

Sometimes, on a Saturday night, after bustin’ my American ass all day painting my own dresser or building my own brownstone (with American blood, sweat and tears) The Boss needs a delicacy from the East to build up his bad-ass chi .

I’ve run the sushi city streets from Queens Boulevard to Thunder Road , and two champions stand tall above the imitators. And as the saying goes, one’s a little bit country and the other’s a little bit rock n’ roll.

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And you can’t forget

When I hear that sweet synthesizer, I see a younger and saner Tom Cruise (Jerry McGuire) frantically running through a house of middle-aged men-bashing moms, yelling, “WHERE IS MY WIFE? I’M LOOKING FOR MY WIFE!”

I think we all tear up a little bit.

The journey to find a great Romanian restaurant in a neighborhood of predominantly pubs and Mexican take-out is not so different. The odds are against you. But this Friday night, one man took a stand. And that man, you guessed it, was The Bruce Springsteen of Queens.

Friday Night, 7:00 p.m. The intersection of 47th Street and Skillman Avenue.

Arms raised, traffic stopped in all directions, I declare to the world, “I’M LOOKING FOR THE SECRET GARDEN!”

Suddenly I hear a wind chime. As I look over, a blinding light blurs my vision. I cross the street in a trance, a moth to the flame. As I approach, a door creaks open.

A man with a thick gray push-broom moustache steps out. He speaks slowly and deliberately in a thick Romanian accent.

“Are you the Bruce Springsteen of Queens?”

“Yes.”

“We have been waiting for you.”

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As you can guess, after a long hard day of tearing holes in my jeans and rubbing my Springsteenian scruff, the B.S.O.Q. needs an ice-cold beer. And not just any trendy lounge with the latest appletini or imitation trailer trash boutique will do the trick. I need a place that has 3 things:

1. Beer
2. Booze
3. No Bull*%#

Here are my favorite Sunnyside, Queens, neighborhood cantinas, in no particular order:

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