I'm blogging (this one and some paid stuff) and making a cheat sheet for a freelance editing project and, admittedly, fucking around on Tumblr at the same coffee shop I came to in the mid-90s when we sat around reading poetry until 3AM, drinking coffee and smoking. It's possible that the same weird Indie music played, too loudly, then, but I may or may not have had my mood altered. I love this coffee shop. It's open 24 hours a day, its advertisements have always featured drag queens, the sizes are called "small, medium, and large," and they have a cereal bar. A cereal bar! How awesome. People write on the tables, walls, and ceilings. Glancing up now I see, for example,
- "Man is a God upon himself. He creates his own image & perceives his own reality. The only moral thing to do is be who you are & do no harm." Right on, brother. Have another toke.
- "I LOVE VAGINAL SEXXXX!!!!!" (Inserted with carets: "+oral" "&anal" "I just love sex.")
On the bookshelves right in front of the bench my laptop sits on (I didn't have a laptop back then; we had paper books and spiral notebooks and, probably, Walkmans) are volumes from The Canturbury Tales to Angels in America: Perestroika. The latter appears to have endured some hard reading.
Later they banned smoking in public buildings and I quit smoking and also quit drinking coffee in the middle of the night. Instead I came here in the mornings when I owned my own full-time freelancing business. Then I came here again to study when I went to college the second time, this time laden with nursing textbooks.
And now this is the preferred hangout for nightshifters because we like us some coffee at midnight and we like its general oddness and inappropriateness. I still like to write and edit here because it's like my office away from home and because almost everyone has Macs and tattoos and enough piercings to list to one side.
Starbucks, I love your lattes, but you just can't even begin to touch local business!