If there was a moment,
now would be that time. The docility
of just not-just-an-ordinary
coffee shop is the perfect place for anything
to happen out of thin air. Outside the snowflakes
the size of volcanic ash spewing from clouds, not a mountainous
hole in the ground and not from a hole in the sky for that matter,
fall to the ground slowly, steadfast
and contemplating determination to bury this city.
However, the once vacant buildings are
surrounded with avid inspirational electricity, thoughts
of countless brainwaves coagulating together for
the same determination–new apartments, new hotel, new
stores. This city, where there was once thought to be no-hope, is
once again alive.
Inside the confines of that just-not-an-ordinary
coffee shop, one is comforted with each sip of the caffienated
ambrosia, whichever potion you choose, each sip comforting
your soul like a down comforter, thicker than
the blanket of foam atop your latte. A large clock hangs upon
the wall, but you don’t give a shit about the time; the bigger something is,
the less likely you will pay attention to it. You don’t want to think about
the seconds passing, because that will only get the best
of your concentrating; you are having more fun not focusing on the what-is.
And below are rows of doorknobs. Why?
Who cares. They handles are gateways, they are
conversation starters. Turning which knob will take you where?
Which knob will look best throughout your house? Which one
reminds you most of your past/childhood, spending time at
your grandparents’ house? Which knob will take you where
you want to go, where you want to be?
coffee shop is decorated with sounds. Somber tunes of
piano blues, the modest rendition of “The World at Large,” and the actual growing of “Fake
Plastic Trees” are waltzing partner-to-partner, fluidly, not skipping
a beat even if Nick Drake and Alexi Murdoch intervene. This all is
about getting the past the hubbub of slurpy words made up of syllables,
sliding through the gum-based oral voids of hygiene, neglected, ranting to
the ceiling and carrying across the room in the same fashion as heat, spewing from
vents, boasting of the necessity of stamps and burger-chain Christmas perks, yielding
sympathy toward the poor soul.
All this just-not-an-ordinary
coffee shop needs is a small jazz ensemble situated
in the corner and complete with a trumpet player, cradling
a mute in-hand. Or maybe it is
I, who needs this following, staying around at a safe proximity and
not hovering over my person like a gray rain-cloud like we see in
comics quite often. It’ll be the Woody-Allen-masterpiece come
to life, into fruition, the tangibility of joyful living in a movie. The music
changes mood-to-mood, situation-to-situation and serious tangos
with comedy as if it were meant to be. Even though we cannot
live life like a movie, we can aspire to it, and you
don’t have to pop in your ear buds and daydream to music.
There is a spot on the couch, vacant, but not as slippery as
toothless gums. The cushions are comfortable, form fitting, and
you’re waiting for something to just-happen. He/She will
walk through that door to face the What-Next? as there may not
be a seat available; however, as life happens, it
is only convenient that other individual will be across the room.
Embrace the good and the bad in this just-not-an-ordinary
coffee shop. Enjoy alone time while reading, or writing, or
doing actual work. Take the moment to listen in to other
conversations instead of your personal mental processes. Let your
mind wander. As the music plays, smile. That seat next to you
may not be vacant for long.