World's King

It's been added to and edited... and it's not done

Who remembers the day you could walk into a coffee shop and not see a man with retro-style glasses and a laptop writing poetry?

There’s this coffee shop near where I live that went from being the cool “gothic” hangout to being the coolest cyber-café in town in a matter of five years. Slowly but surely the network connection and outlets went up and the freaks went out. Now I can’t go there with friends without seeing some post D&D nerd playing EverQuest over the net. It’s rather frustrating. I’m sitting here as I write this but only after waiting a good hour to get a free outlet.

It’s a rainy Saturday afternoon in Denver during the school year. This place is filled with students studying anything from Spanish to pre-med. biology. There are few scattered people in the corners of this fairly decent sized room that actually came in here to get an espresso and lunch with friends. These people are no longer looked at as being apart of the “coffee shop scene.” When did the mentality switch? When did it become un-cool to be an artist without a computer? When I first came here when I was 15 I always had my notebook and pen just in case I was struck with an idea. Now I have to set up my Compaq Presario, hook up to the web and wait till I get inspired. Computers take up considerably more room than a normal-sized leather bound journal. And trust me the tables in our new cyber-cafes have yet to grow to accommodate. There is still only enough room for a coffee of cup and an 81/2 by 11 notebook.

The last time I was in here the waitress was walking down the aisle and tripped over one of the hundred or so cables stretched across the room. Everyone has to get the prime spots in the room so that no one can see their screen. No one wants to be discovered downloading great amounts of porn in public. You would think that the fire marshal would have a hissy fit if they knew what goes on in these places. The heat created from all the laptops running at the same time raises the temperature in here to about Death Valley status. The best part about this is that the coffee never goes cold while you wait the twenty minutes for a refill.

The main reason people flock to places like this is the chance of running into old friends and the opportunity to make new ones. It never fails me. I walk in the door and get bombarded by either friends, X’s, or enemies. And than there’s that off day I might meet a nice young female that will eventually fall into that “X” category. I’ve met all of my last few girlfriends in this place. All through friends and accidental meetings. The problem with this is that coffee shops are and always will be a feeding ground for the depressed under-loved females of society. Which is why any self-respected male wouldn’t bother talking to any of them. Except me.

Having a computer in front of me seems to be the only wall that I can put up that will keep these self-defeating women from talking to me. Which is odd because I am pining for some sort of female companion. I have found that most woman refuse to be out-loved by a piece of computer equipment. All of the women that I see with laptop blazing in front of them are either doing homework or working on their teen-angst “Brintey Spears” poetry about the boy that just broke up with them. They always seem to find a way to compare him to their over-baring father. But only if they mention about horses and puppies.

Poetry wasn’t intended to be written on a piece of machinery. It was intended to be written sitting on the banks of a lake in a leather journal with a quill. The computer age killed romance. Instead of sending a letter to a long lost lover you get to send a pre-fabricated electronic postcard. It’s Hallmark for geeks. You know what, I’m not gonna even get started on my Hallmark rant because that’s a whole other piss storm.

A few days later
After spending a much needed “down time” from this particular hellhole, I’ve been entering its doorway too often in the past few weeks. Most of my time spent here was after a night of drinking with the boys. It’s a heaven for slightly drunk 20-somethings at 2 in the morning. Part of the reason I’ve been coming in here so much lately is so I can write this article with the stink of the place fresh in my nose. It’s been for research purposes. But as I mentioned before I am always going to run into someone I know. Like on this night. I’m sitting here minding my own business when who should appear… an old friend that joined the Army and is back for a few days. So, now I am expected to pack up the laptop and listen to pointless stories about boot camp and the drill instructor that was “just such and asshole.” Can I not get peace and quiet for at least an hour? Fuck no. That would be way too much to ask from a group of societies outcasts. Fucking post alterni-teen bastards. And to throw and even bigger log on the fire my evening has become some dopey waiter thought it would be a laugh/riot to throw Britney fucking Spears in the CD player. I’m gonna be stuck in night full of “Oops, I Did It Again” and “Steers and Queers.” I don’t mean to bitch so much about this but I was really looking forward to a nice calm writing session. That daydream got fucked in the ass with a 12-inch dildo.

Later that week
But as the weather gets warmer more and more people venture out of their homes/lofts/condos to get a small piece of sun before going to the daily grind of nothingness. Being in this place during the day is far, far different than at night. First and for most the wait staff is nice. Your coffee arrives at the broken table in less than 30 minutes. You are far more likely to get a refill in the hour or two you spend sitting on the rock hard metal chairs. You may find it strange that with as much as I appear to hate this place I keep coming back for more punishment. Well, I don’t have an answer for you. It’s a mystery not unlike why people subject themselves to NASCAR or professional wrestling. It’s like watching a car crash… you know it’s gonna be bloody and gross but you have to see it anyway. Mangled arms and other body parts flying across I-25 in a ballet of carnage. And you’re sitting in your car drooling with a hard on. “Please sir, may I have some more?”

I have many things that are far more important than sitting here writing dribble. But the opportunity to hook up to the high speed Internet draws me in like flies to shit. I’ll spend a few hours here randomly checking my e-mail hoping that maybe someone would want to talk to me. It’s silly, I know. I have an address book full of friends that I never see. You would think that someone would want to see if I was alive. I know I could just as easily write one of them but that would make me look needy and lonely, right? It’s a painful little world we writers live in. Spending our hours in coffee shops and pubs with a notebook or laptop trying to hammer out the next great American novel. It’s like trying to be pretty. We all dream of being Hunter S. Thompson mixed with Walter Cronkite. I want creditability with a hint of “drug binge” incoherence. Racing in and out of thoughts ranging from the government and sexual experience with little else to say except, “That’s the way it is…”

I’m miles away from reaching that status. I am lingering somewhere just beyond knowing how to read and write. Spelling properly is a about an hours walk from here. I like to lie to myself about being a journalist and being able to portray my ideas on paper in a manner that is suitable for publication but I really don’t know the first thing about the business. That’s why come here. It gives me the opportunity to appear as though I know what I’m doing. I sit in the corner and look distressed to the point where the veins are popping out of my forehead. I’m really just babbling about why my life is pathetic. But than again that’s where all the great writers got their inspiration. Being lower than low and writing about it. Using words as an escape from the everyday “slap in the face” of being a human. Now, I’m not saying that I am just like the great writers of the world. But I am well on my way to barricading myself in a small apartment with a few bottles of Jack Daniels and a large amount of painkillers. Sweating gallons though my worn out brown sweater vest, eyes fixed on my vintage typewriter with hopes that it would start writing by itself. Waking up every afternoon sprawled out on the bathroom floor after an evening of booze and porn.

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heavy is the head that wears the crown

BubblegumTeflon

This topic seems lonely, it's at the bottom with not a reply. You put a lot of writing into it, maybe people just don't know how to respond since you talked about so much. As you can see I have trouble elucidating a response as well.

I don't hang around those places much, there's one on my corner but it never seems to really draw me in. Then again it's all closed up and cramped so I feel claustrophobic even though I'm not.

I'm an art student so yes, I fall into the "women doing homework" on their laptop category (we do digital art stuff so it's fun). But I'll be in the student union or the library at my college instead of a coffeshop, since those places are so much nicer. Big windows, open air, people walking outside. . .it has a calming effect that I like. Maybe if you moved to a place that seems less cramped with all the tables and cords everywhere you may feel a release. We have nice comfy chairs at my college. Maybe there's a college near you (if you're not a student now) that's got free wireless like mine. See if you can find a place like that, maybe that would help. If not, then there are websites that give tips on finding wireless access points, uhm I don't remember them BUT you can find them in that new supplement to this month's Wired magazine, Unwired. So there you go! More help and stuff.

rogue49

You've got some interesting paradoxes going on in yourself.
Many love/hate relationships.

And not just with X's
But with your hang outs, your works, yourself...

Or like this reply, you'll like the attention, but you'll hate the opinion.

Learn to like yourself, but strive to be better.
Enjoy where you are, but also explore & expand.
Appreciate your friends, but understand it's not always edgy or profound.

Believe me being on the edge always is not everything is cracked up to be.
Everyone wants to find their center, their stability.
but not be bored at the same time.

Balance your light & dark
Your Yin & Yang.

But be ready
it's a battle you're going to fighting the rest of your life.
And you're not alone.

World's King

It really sucks that people skip over threads that have lots of reading involved.

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heavy is the head that wears the crown

BubblegumTeflon

People are intimidated by a big block of content. I appreciate your writing and I don't mind, but for most people, content on the web has to be bite sized chunks. If that big fatty post was broken up into sections then people could digest it easier. For this, I'd say you could break it in two at "a few days later". It gives a nice pause, people can catch their breath. And I'm pretty sure nobody will accuse you of post-padding.

World's King

I thought about cutting it into sections but most people don't have a long enough attention span to wait for the next instalmenet.

That and it kills the flow if it's cut up.

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heavy is the head that wears the crown

Loki

good rant.

you have an interesting duality, as rogue mentioned... you hate the place, yet you keep visiting.


Curious. =)

World's King

Thanks Loki

__________________
heavy is the head that wears the crown