One Flew Over The Cocoa's Nest
I'm not sure what it is but cafes seem to attract only college students, writers, and crazy people, all of whom, it seems, love to procrastinate. Which is what I'm doing right now. I'm in that terrible beginning phase of writing a new project: the outline. There is nothing I love more than tearing through pages, watching my word count soar. Conversely, there is nothing I hate more than the planning. It's like giving birth, although there is no epidural to be had; trust me, I've asked. And coupled with my hatred of outlining is the sharp memory of those times when I've grown impatient and just set off writing, half-cocked, only to find come page 40 I have no idea what comes next. So I slough through these days & weeks of outlining, dreading the moment when my manager or agents read the outline and come up with perfectly reasonable but so-infuriating questions that push "FADE IN" even further into the distance.
Bleh. It doesn't help that my cafe has Wireless, but it's okay, I'll get to work...
Though, in my defense, it's hard to write when there are so many crazy people around me. I'll take a picture:
The closest guy with the OldPonytail has set up an entire makeshift PC, imcliding flat screen monitor and keyboard. In a cafe. I understand that not everyone has money to spend, but they do make laptops.
But the real crazy is the guy in the back, on the cafe's computers. He's here a lot, talking angrily to people who try their best to ignore him. Right now he's laughing his ass off. Why? Because he's playing Yahoo!Games spades. Though he's not really playing spades. He's using Yahoo!Games as a chat room, furiously typing with someone. But he clearly doesn't know how to type properly, so he pounds with one finger, laughing, faux-Spade-playing. I should really walk by, glance at his user name, then go to Yahoo!Games spades and start a conversation with him.
Then I should start freaking him out, telling him what he's wearing. Then I'll tell him I'm a ghost and never to come into this cafe again. And please take Whole ComputerMan with him.
Update: while the spades guy is still pounding away an hour later, new to the scene is a 8th grade girl wearing a glitter stars on her face and a faux "Nevermind The Bullocks" t-shirt that reads "I'm a whore for cheap sex," which doesn't even really make sense, and a contractor who keeps loudly leaving long messages about drywall on machine only to suddenly yell "Shit!" also loudly then telling the cafe that he's just left a message on the wrong person's machine.