Yawn. Stretch. Repeat. My lazy Sunday continues, only now it is Monday. Meaning that I've really just become lazy. Not in a bad way, it is not like I'm putting things off, or ignoring responsibility; I just have nothing to do, and I am in turn doing nothing. Today I left the apartment for the first time since arriving home Saturday evening, I needed to buy more Tropicana pink lemonade. Unfortunately C-town was out of said lemonade, but being that I was already in the grocery store, I spent about $30 on other food/beverages that I didn't really need (yes, I needed pink lemonade). This was quite a task, considering the amount of effort I have yet to use on anything constructive in the past two days, it surprisingly involved many steps. I first had to put pants on (real pants, I have been living in some very comfortable PJ pants), this was kind of a bummer, as wearing clothes suitable for public viewing made me feel more like a contributing member of society (this was not my goal for the weekend). Along with pants, I had to put shoes on, though not wanting to have to also put socks on, I opted for flip-flops, which don't really count. I then threw a 2 sizes to big for me sweatshirt on over my wife beater, and hit the road for my two block trip of actually doing something. By the end of my journey to the store, after carrying my 4 bags of groceries up two flights of stairs, I had almost broken a sweat. Almost. It may have been the sweatshirt. It has been cool lately, cool enough to pull off jeans and a sweatshirt, provided you aren't doing anything more than walking at a moderately slow pace. I've gotten off topic though, I intended to talk to you about reading, and coffee.
I am, not surprisingly, on my couch right now, with an empty cup of coffee and a half read article for the New Yorker. Not only is my cup of coffee out, but all my coffee is out. I usually have 2ish cups in the morning(afternoon/evening), today I only had enough for on cup though. This leads me to the half read article. It was pretty good, about one of the many people who decided to go totally green and write about it. So far it seems like a huge pain in the ass, and make his life suck, and begs the question, "for what good?" I assume they answer that at the end of the article, as I am sure the New Yorker wouldn't completely bash going green, even if all this one guy really did was make his life a pain in the ass for a year. But now that my coffee is gone, so is my desire to keep reading. Not to mention the writer of the article keeps talking about Thoreau in a very unforgiving light, repeatedly saying his time spent on Walden Pond was little more than I stunt to break him into the literary world. Makes sense I guess, but it's just far more interesting than a stunt. But that is a subject I am not really qualified to speak on. I think I'm getting off topic again, I was saying something about coffee and reading.
Right. I remember similar situations in Maine, more importantly in Rock City Coffee, where I used to work, and where my love of coffee and reading grew exponentially. Now when I return to Maine I go there everyday to sit and read while drinking coffee. That's really all I want to do when I go home. Mostly because I can't do it here, at least I can't do it as well. There is a coffee shop called the Archive just a few minutes walk from my apartment here in Brooklyn, but it's just not the same. Rock City was full of real people. There was Captain Neal, the published writer, and the arrogant pain in the ass. There was Joe, rest in peace, who was crazy, probably due to years of alcohol abuse, who would dance to the music, while sipping his dollar cup of coffee. Either that or he would talk about his days as a sailor, I'm still not quite sure that he ever was a sailor, he had some good stories though. And of course there was KT, working behind the book counter, always there a new recommendation, and an infectiously loud laugh that could convince anyone they were funny. At the Archive there are just two people: some worker, and then some hipster. These two people multiply enough to fill most of the seats, and cover the tables with Apple products, but really, they are all the same person.
Really I think everything about the Archive is just less appealing than Rock City. Instead of endless cases of books, they have a few shelves of movies. Rather than a good selection of papers to read, they carry a few copies of the Onion. It's never a gamble of which of the 15 or so different roasts they will serve that day, it's always the same roast of Gimme, which is of course delicious, but my least favorite roast from Gimme. And also, they don't have whip cream. That means a con panna party just isn't possible. Not that anyone there would really appreciate it anyway (that is kind of irrelevant, I think myself and my good friend River, also from Rock City are the only two people who like con panna parties).
I am being pretty hard on the Archive though, the people are nice, and the coffee is good. Which is really all you can ask for from a coffee shop. And even still, I have brought my book in there to read before, and as long as you can concentrate well enough in the hipster hangout, then you're ok. And I've never had the problem I'm having now, because it's a coffee shop, they don't run out of coffee. And now I've reached another point of empitness, my cup of Irish Breakfast tea is empty, and my desire to keep writing is quickly fading. I have lost the motivation to end this well, but seeing that I am still on my lazy Sunday, I'll end with the same advice I gave to a friend yesterday: It's Sunday, and no one needs motivation on Sunday.
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