I've never eaten here (stream of consciousness)

I think it turns out I've chosen you, blogger.
Wordpress is mad cool but for some reason I just can't write when I go to post on it.
maybe it' the colors.
that weird blue on the blog entry form just kills everything or something...which is weird, cause blue is in fact my favorite color. I barely notice the grayish brown of this one. I heard somewhere that barely noticeable, subtle sounds and colors spark creativity. Maybe it's true¹. Good thing, right now, I have both.


I've been here for about two hours. Just me, Ophelia², and a one-third-of-the-way empty³ bottle of water. I'm in the process of conditioning myself to not worry about things out of my control...I'm not much of a worrier anyway most of the time but still...

My plan was simple just go somewhere and do whatever I feel like alone. Maybe do some free-writing at a café or something. Normally solitude is the sum of my tattered bedroom and a locked door, but the problem with that is my family is never more than a couple minutes and a scream away from breaking the me-time. So, here I am, a hopeless bundle of chords slumped in the back of a restaurant that doesn't smell like food. It doesn't smell like anything; maybe that's why I've never bought anything from here⁴.

Sometimes public places are the best ones to go to when you need to be alone, that's what I think. Because in public places it's practically offensive to interact with other people that's the way it goes.

The thing I like about this place is the music they always play some awesome jazz and not only that, they play some of the exact songs I own which is completely fascinating. I came here with the my external hard drive and my comically large, comically held together with rubber bands headphones with a comically long cord fully intending on listening to my own music but alas, the ambiance is too enthralling. Darn you Miles Davis, Charlie Parker and Duke Ellington overriding my Dave Mathews Band, Victim Effect, and Bernie Allen. And especially you Autumn Leaves you beautiful, melodic piece of crap. Plus, today's Foobar shuffle is surprisingly unsatisfying.

Apparently I'm not alone in my quest for digitally enhanced solitude. A girl has just sat across from me with naught but a drink, a bag and a laptop. I guess none of my ideas are really that original. The difference is, I have mine plugged in, plus I look far more ridiculous. Although she puts up a good fight, every time I look up, she's staring at her computer with a different, yet equally intense and increasingly comical face. Would it be rude to laugh out loud? No one would know. "There must be something funny on his computer screen".

I don't crack a smile. Appearing interested in other people is dangerous because eventually, you have to think of something to say.

a couple of people sit behind me...I think they got soup. I can barely smell it. What a weird frikkin place to eat.

What the eff does Panera mean anyway?

Wikipedia is NO help.

Seriously, I need a frikkin job. Apparently, if you tell them you have a schedule they throw your shtuff in the trash. I wish I'd known that 20 applications ago. There's nothing to do in this town without money, except, you know, blog in restaurants while eavesdropping for things to write about.

Of course your battery's dying; that's what batteries do.
Of course you can use this plug. It turns out I like the music they play here better than the stuff on my hard drive at the moment anyway.

It was probably a dumb idea to just unplug it, but the safer alternative would take too long and I'm no good at small talk.

Are you kidding me? Is that a J-pop ring tone?

Everything here is so earthy...I'd expect it to smell more like spruce or mahogany or something it looks like it was carved out of a frikkin tree.

This blog is going nowhere...
-Marlon


l. Believe EVERYTHING you hear.

2. No, my computer doesn't have a name, she has at least three.

3. Optimism and pessimism are nothing in the way of verbal aesthetics.

4. The main reason is me being broke as f*ck.