Once upon a time there was a world weaved out of highways, navigated by street names, diced into blocks and then gently pulled apart by long stretches of roads that weren't quite highways just long ways. In this world there were shops and there were offices, sometimes there were parks, many times there were malls. But in this world, tucked away unassuming on a street corner like any other, was a space: for music, performance, drama, revelry, or whatever else you could convince them to put on. It was small, cramped, like a hug from a friend you haven't seen in a long time. It was a stage, a theater once, a pit, a joint, a venue more accurately called. Legends rolled around tongues explaining why exactly this place is called The Cat's Cradle.

The true story of how The Cat's Cradle got its name has been forgotten over the years- lost in the murmurations of musicians, drag queens, beat poets, punks, and roadies who graduated off to better or worse places than here. What really did happen was, when they bought up the lot and took over the building, it had a different sign out front. They rearranged the letters to see what they could do with it- so they wouldn't have to buy too many more letters, you understand. And The Cat's Cradle is what they came up with.