Some context: this is the Cafe where I go to do work and drink shitty coffee. I do not go to this place because it is good – I go because it is close to my house and is not a shitty Starbucks. It got a C rating from the board of health a few months ago, but I do not worry, because they have since managed to upgrade to a (prominently displayed) A, and I don’t eat the shitty food, I just drink the shitty coffee. Normally, Shitty Cafe is full of students. I have observed, however, that around 10:00 PM a new demographic begins to move in, namely, a demographic that consists of People Who Appear To Be Normal but Then Start to Speak and Reveal Themselves to be Mad. Last night, a man came in and was talking to his friend VERY LOUDLY in a very strange accent of indeterminably origin (possibly Scandinavian). At first he was talking about normal things, but then all of a sudden, VERY LOUDLY:
“I don’t drink alcohol because it makes me impotent. I drink coffee because it makes me orgasmic. Once, in a cafe in Majorca, there was a blond German girl who wanted to seduce me. But she got me a bit drunk, so . . . it didn’t work.”
Other items of note, unrelated to Shitty Cafes:
1. I think I am getting a cold, which better not be true, because there are plans for a late night of bad sci-fi tomorrow, and a musicology field trip to the Westin Bonaventure (also known as Postmodernism: THE BUILDING!) on Thursday, so I would kind of like to be not ill.
2. For How to Be a Teaching Assistant class, we are supposed to be recording the amount of time we spend doing any and all writing over the course of a week. I am looking forward to the moment on Friday morning when I get to reveal to my colleagues that the number of hours I spend writing mostly consist of blogging, drafting blog posts that never get posted, and making to-do lists.
3. I am less angry today, I think because I finally went back to yoga. Also, I have finally found a yoga teacher that I like here. The last teacher I was with was too new-agey and encouraged a lot of flailing around (like, wtf?) and I would just leave class feeling really annoyed, which is not the point. This new teacher uses a teaching style that is best summed up as being smart-ass, which one would not think would work in a yoga environment, but, as an irony-loving asshole myself, I relate much better to smart-ass than I do to let’s-think-about-our-chakras-it’s-a-beautiful-day. Um, also, I worry that this new teacher will yell at me for not moving out of downward dog correctly, so I work harder, out of terror. (Also, possibly not the point, but probably good for building core strength.)