I am sitting in a cafe called Spyhouse, a very hipster-ish place in Minneapolis not far from where Violet has her rehearsal tonight. Hipster cues: young people in pajama pants, a Nehi clock, a wall with weird implements taped to it (e.g. bubble wand, assorted hooks, a little green army guy), matches at the cash register for the people who go out front and smoke. Also, register girl who talks to you like you’re an idiot for ordering something on the menu because “we’ve haven’t had that for a long time.” Take it off the menu, maybe?
It is loud! At least I am enjoying the music — one of Johnny Cash’s later albums of covers: “One,” “Solitary Man, “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” etc.
But I am not getting anything done! I had thought to work on my “novel,” but I can’t do it while I balance my laptop on my legs and wonder what I’ll do with my computer while I go to the bathroom (though at this point I’d love to replace this ancient laptop). Should I ask the guys who look to be playing quarters? Can you play that with coffee?
I am not sure whether I’ll come back next week or not. At least if I whip out my knitting I’ll be doing something vaguely hip, right?
Sigh . . .
ETA: in my time surfing here, I discovered a new blog via my friend Rex Parker: The “Blog” of “Unnecessary” Quotation Marks. If you have ever made a pasttime of collecting bad punctuation, this is for you. Very funny . . . if you are word nerd.