I look around me, somewhat timidly, however. The sounds of random, disjointed conversations flood my mind and drown out any semblance of cognitive clarity I may have hoped for. Like Noah’s flood, all hope of life continuing, seems virtually nonexistent. with the noise of the coffee grinder, slicing through the burnt flesh of that delectable roasted bean, the whirring noise of the industrial espresso maker, that produces God-awful noise that one assumes would only belong to the pressurized air hoses of an auto garage. And last but certainly not least is the very thing put in place to relax the patrons of this “fine” local cafe; the music. This corporately selected hodgepodge of random sounds from days gone by. Jesus! This music is enough to turn any self-respecting human being into a zombie, completely lulled into total submission to the will of the now-famous mermaid, a coffeehouse sex symbol… She is the Kim Kardashian of caffeine, and everyone seems to have their blood-filled genitals on display for her, waiting for that supreme orgiastic pleasure.
It’s quite peculiar what people come here for… Some come for the coffee, which, let’s be honest, has been horrid as of late. Others still, come for the freedom of the internet, sans the bloated cost, another example of Corporate America’s “generosity, if you consider generous being given access to a digital leash in exchange for Yahoo putting it’s web finger up your asshole whilst you blow AT&T and say with a smile on your face, swallow, and say, ‘THANKS, it was FUCKING DELICIOUS.’ Even still there are those who come for job interviews, or to partake in the proverbial human mating ritual. Both are virtually identical, you sell yourself like a common street corner hooker, hoping that someone will invite you into there own private little corner, where you put yourself on display, spread your legs and say, “Come in.” Hoping you get something more than a soul-crushing beating for your trouble. Ahhhh… The wonders of the coffeehouse.