I just yanked a bagel from my apartment complex and carried it in my coat pocket to Starbucks, where I am now eating it. It's pretty good, too. I think I'm on to something here.
Writing may be as good as talking- perhaps better. I've been a tad frustrated lately when I hang around by myself because I have no release. The only way I could think of to get release was to strike up a conversation with someone. That is all well and good, but sometimes that can be painful to initiate. Now that I've started writing again, I'm able to find release, and it puts me in such a mental state that I wouldn't feel the hunger pains of social interaction. Yes, I think I may be on to something here.
There aren't many people here. There are never many people at this Starbucks. I don't exactly know why, but it can't help to have some of the most sour, ungrateful and mean-looking employees working here. There is an older couple sitting to my left. I bet they're staying at the hotel Magnolia, which makes up for the vast majority of the building that houses this particular Starbucks. They were talking but now they've stopped. I think they were arguing a few minutes ago.
A crazy homeless man just walked in, swearing at some figment of his imagination. He set his dufflebag down below the table by the window facing Commerce street. The older couple are definitely staying at this hotel, as I was able to conclude from what she just said- "I'm going up to the room to get some Tylenol."
The crazy homeless man is busy rifling through his dufflebag. I don't think he ever got any coffee or anything. He must be seeking shelter.
This Starbucks should be really cool but it isn't. I don't know exactly what's missing. One thing that is bothering me is that there is no background music. This makes for an eerie backdrop of noise. It also makes the locale seem less alive.
The Crazy Homeless man just walked by and muttered "Tall motherfucker…" under his breath. I don't know if he was referring to me. After all, I am of modest height; but then again, he is crazy. It turns out he did get something. It looks like a Grande-sized drink and some sort of crumbly pastry. He drinks his coffee without a lid. In between sips he rubs his face violently with his hands. Yep, crazy.
As time passes I feel the urge to find a bathroom. The coffee is beginning to take form in my digestive system, or my intestines, err whatever. Luckily I live close to here. I should make this my official Starbucks, but I really don't like the people that work here.
I asked Santa to bring me true love this Christmas. He sighed and his face turned somber. "There is no such thing as true love" he said, and he stood up and motioned towards the door.
Ever since I was a little girl, I had always wanted a pony. Each year, as I celebrated New Years alone I realized that my dream was becoming less and less a reality. Coping is a unique human trait. Fortunately I learned to settle for what the sweet lord Jesus has provided for me thus far. My job, the clothes, the vacation house, and my cachet of meaningless physical relationships are enough to keep my mind off of that which is lacking in my life.
The biggest news to hit the magic community since the Sorceror's Stone is sending shockwaves through wizards and muggles alike. Chamber of secrets? Not anymore. It's official, Dumbledore is gay. Sources close to Dumbledore say that they have known about his sexual orientation for a while, and that due to his increasingly flamboyant tendencies it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.
At the onset of 2006 I changed my diaper. My diaper was dirty, and my butt was getting sore from walking around with a full load. I've been wearing this new diaper since March and its starting to get unbearable. This new diaper is a cheaper brand, which means it can't hold leaks as well as the old diaper. To give you an idea of the comparative qualities of the two diapers, the old diaper lasted 3 years whereas this new diaper is going to burst in half that.
