This is the first day of the last day of the first day of our lives by haslinger

HASLINGER'S BLOG

haslinger

This is the first day of the last day of the first day of our lives
Sunday, August 29, 2004

It’s hard to write in the only coffee shop in town that’s currently open. Sure I could have gone to a Starbucks there’s one littered on just about every corner of the earth, but I am not interested in seeing those people. This town has 4 types of caffienites. The Carpe Diem Crowd comprised mostly of Private college students, wealth Springhillians, ignorant liberals, and downright obnoxious conservatives. Ah the sounds that emanate from that place. Next there’s Satori. Once a record shop, a really great one at that, now reduced to nothing more than a pathetic stoop for music nazi pigeons that so like to frequent. In one day you can watch the same person change musical tastes based on who’s around. They’ll admit to liking trip hop, but god knows not in front of the “Hot Topics brand Punks.” Oh Starbucks. You’re almost as American as America itself, except underneath the environmentally friendly posterior you waste more milk and food than any I’ve ever seen. A girl I dated once works there. She told me never to order a latte. I don’t really know what that means, and frankly I don’t to. ‘nuff said. Finally, there’s the Ugly Mug. The perfect place to retire and shake hands with joe. Free wireless, decent coffee, they’re open till 1am all the time. No crowds. No snobs. The click there generally sticks to them, although on occasion a teen will interrupt the perfect sentence with some sort of pubescent sonic distortion. Big downfall. No outdoor seating—which means no smoking. Starbucks and Carpe are open on Sundays, the others are closed. Therefore, I get to spend the next hour or so sitting at Carpe Diem.

NRkangel has the right idea. I keep flashing back to his writings. Why stay? I am at a dead end job, that at first preached the wonders of travel and growth as an artist, but now I am nothing more than Richard Prior in the “Toy”. I don’t hate it. I loathe it. On the other hand I understand the value of work, and the necessity of a paycheck. I can’t afford what little freedom I have if my bondage is financial. I will bide in my time I suppose and wait for the right moment to strike. I will be the Counte of Monte Cristo. Impatience just hangs on my heart and mind.

Where do we go from here?

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