The Shallow Man Diaries (Part 20): Thursday Night @ Starbucks


I’m in Starbucks Greenbelt, I’ve just plugged in my new MacBook, and I’m ready to dream. Grooving to music I’ll never listen to at home, drinking something that is juice and sparkling water. It’s a pomegranate, but it tastes slightly alcoholic—in a bad way.

My computer’s taking a while to load, and I’m embarrassed by my screensaver. I’m not ready for the big time, and this is why. My being afraid of my wallpaper shows what I need to work on in my life. She’s not even naked; there’s no way I should be afraid to show a picture of a beautiful young woman with tattoos.

Had some ideas while the computer was loading; some real dazzling ways to write these head dreams, but they evaporate faster than any liquid known to man…just little vapor trails of brilliance.

I lost them :(

Someone asks for the chair next to me; the one upon which my bag rests, and although I give it to her, I hate her, even though it was just my bag.

There’s a beautiful girl outside, and I have realized too late that she is one year away from being able to accept my creepy stares. By the time I make it she’ll be old enough…I’m getting used to the pomegranate.

I want to make this a habit: coming here and placing these thoughts to the page. I’m realizing I have aspirations to write a book. Rather, I have thoughts about being a famous novelist and being interviewed by Anderson Cooper.

I’ll be wearing a beret and a burgundy velvet sport jacket, with a Groucho Marx-style moustache. He asks me many questions; I always interrupt him, but he defers to my intelligence. He realizes what I have to say is grand indeed.

Of course, I have not written a single page.

There are so many stories to tell; I don’t know where to start, so I’ll start here. Right now, here is empty. But here is better than nowhere, even if here is more nowhere than there.

Some smelly European chick is asking to use my computer. How rude can you get? It’s really an invasion of my personal space.

This is Starbucks, a bastion of commercialism: Muthafuckas making coin-selling coffee! Nowhere is the Capitalist Dream more realized. Yet every loser and deadbeat uses this place like a commune.

My computer is an extension of my distorted mind, you can’t use it!

You know what? I will let you use it. Let me just open up my video file, the one conspicuously named “PORN!”

“Sure you can use it; I was just watching this girl from Germany sucking a pony. This movie is special to me.”

Fuck all the bums, the wannabes, all the uptight screensaver-haters, and the foreigners with their deplorable English!

I’m coming back here :)
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