I ate lunch in my favorite cafe in Berkeley today. My favorite used to be Nefeli of course, but the Sicilian got that in the divorce. He also got to keep the cat (which is fair as it nominally belonged to our roommate, even though it spent all its time with me), my comforter (which I’m rectifying this weekend, before he brings some chippie home to get cheap Obsession all over it) and, oh yes, my poor mangled heart. Speaking of cheap obsessions…
Anyway, my new favorite is the Classical Music Cafe next to my office, and it’s the best because it has the surliest waitstaff I’ve ever seen. It’s a little tribe of incredibly angry Asian women who refuse to smile, or bring you napkins, or do anything much except stand behind the counter and intensely hate you. I keep coming back because after suffering that level of silent vitriol for an hour the rest of my day is wonderful. Everyone seems like my new best friend.
I am also in a really good mood because Papa Frahm has one of my stories, the long one that I wouldn’t be able to rewrite. All the rest of you can feel free to chime in with whatever you’ve got. Anytime now.