zombie_nirbhao

going on... wow... thirteen years ago.... shit that makes me feel old....

there's this coffee shop in town that I used to go to just about every day. sometimes I would go with my friends and play scruples. sometimes I would go by myself and read. I smoked djarums, back when I wasn't a smoker.

regardless of who I planned on spending time with, it was not uncommon for more people to join the table.

the eastern orthodox trucker who took me to mass, telling me, "it is the body and blood of Christ, not bread or wine"
the day laborers who repeatedly kicked my ass over a chessboard
the numbers guy who showed me spreadsheet after spreadsheet and told me how he was moving to australia as soon as he could afford to move out of his ex-wife's place
the lithe, short-haired girl who poured over architectural magazines, gushing over arches and stained glass, pointing out her favorites
the high-schooler who always wore suits and threw martini parties
the argentinean who could turn black ink or bics into magic

bodies heated the rooms and steamed the windows. when it was time to close, the baristas would turn the already loud music to a conversation-killing level.

this is where I learned that the passenger seat is the best place in a car to fuck.

my recent coffee shop experiences have involved sitting in back with the barista, talking about news or social theory or delusions of grandeur. or nothing. I bum cigarettes, now that I am no longer a smoker. it is my favorite way to start the day. however, that is a different shop, a different time, a different purpose.

my plans for today, aside from work and errands, largely involved knitting. I certainly could knit at home, ignoring the growing darkness. I went out instead. I went back to my old haunt.

I got there at about 7pm. there were two cars in the parking lot. I thought to myself, "it must be early. good. I will get a seat." the barista didn't say a word to me. I helped myself to a tea bag, he handed me a cup of hot water. he rang me up, I handed him a bill. he gave me change, I tipped. not a word.

there was no music.

I sat down in my little corner, in the back room, facing the wall-wide windows. instead of tables in that corner, they had a sectional sofa. there had been a love seat when I first frequented the shop, but it was removed for being more of lust seat. there were two men in the front room speaking a language I didn't recognize, one with a bright block color leather jacket, the other in a beret. a woman near the window conducted a private, silent orchestra.

time passed. friends met to go to a party. a couple stopped in before their movie. three people set up laptop computers, plugged in headphones, drank whatever they were drinking, and smoked clove or hand-rolled cigarettes.

time passed. the barista started putting up chairs.