Cobb's closed last night (rather this morning) and it was a weird time. After the show I moved around the room looking at the club from all angles. I couldn't feel anything. I think it was too big. I got small waves of sadness but nothing big.

Thirteen years I've been going to that club, I've made friendships there that are beyond what I thought I was capable of. When I started going there I was pretherapy, preantidepressents, preself-worth. That club was a huge part of who I've become. I was more welcomed there than I am was anywhere. It was the one of the first places that I could really call my own.

I know the club will be opening in a few months in a new location but the old club is dear to me.

I expected to be in tears the whole night, but I was fine until we were leaving. The marquee was empty. I managed to make it across the street and turn back. It was after 3am and the lights in the Cannery courtyard were off. It was dark and dead with a sign offering no future.

The tears that came weren't the torrent that I expected but it was the beginning of grieving. Tara put her arm around me started crying too. As we walked toward the car Brian put his arm around me.

Cobb's Comedy Club in the Cannery was a bonding place, laughter, friendship, growth, and acceptance. No matter how wonderful the new new club will be, or how many good times are in the future, all the energy from past shows will stay at the Cannery like happy ghosts giggling in the shadows.