My initial introduction to Vermillion, the cozy bar that's mixed into the Capitol Hill hipster circuit on 11th off Pike Street, was as a well-lit oasis of grown-up calm where I could settle in over a long bourbon and a book.

Over the past year, the spot has since morphed into what one friend lovingly calls "the vortex," packed with pre-funk gaggles of drinkers and featuring lectures, performances, openings, and arty events that greet you unpredictably depending on which night you drop in.



At first, I found all the action a little annoying. I just wanted a clean well-lighted place. But last night, stumbling on the admittedly jarring Frances Farmer karaoke night—featuring a loud organ, full-volume microphone, and a song book of alternative and B-movie pop history (Jim Carroll's People Who Died, Del Shannon's Runaway, Joan Jett's Bad Reputation , and Laurie Anderson's O Superman—how do you karaoke that?!?)—I had a lovely time among the racket.

I realized that the mix of hetero dates at the bar, gay dates at the tables, theater goofs,  groups of chatty friends oblivious to the Joan Jett renditions, and me at my computer working was a perfect snapshot of my neighborhood.