11:30 pm
Listening to:
"Burning Photographs" by Ryan Adams
"Machine Gun" by Slowdive
"Perfect" by Smashing Pumpkins
"Asleep" by The Smiths
"Counterfeit Rules" by Snowden
"Faces Down" by Sondre Lerche
"Jams Run Free" by Sonic Youth
"Poor Misguided Fool" by Starsailor
"That Was The Worst Christmas Ever" by Sufjan Stevens
I'm at Rick's Cafe in Virginia Beach
with a clove and a cup of coffee.
I'm reading this book Love Is A Mixtape by Rob Sheffield.
It's a memoir about a music journalist who loses his wife at age 31.
For some reason I can relate to him in an unusual way tonight.
I feel his loss and his late night experiences alone. (pg 175)
He has a very detailed memory of his life
just before and after his wife dies.
After 1 am, insomniacs start to fill up the booths.
Rick's brings in the rugged type (young and old);
Vabeach natives satisfied with their outcast status.
A few sit with company
but most sit alone with coffee and cigarettes
reading, writing, thinking, napping,
and sometimes just sitting there
like they're repressing something that refuses to come out.
There's an atmosphere here that I can connect with very well.
One would rather spend time at a place like this
than at home where there seem to be more distractions
and reminders of things that need to be done
or things already done that don't need reminding of.
The seat I sit in...
I know that someone else has sat in this same seat
to relax, reflect, or repress.
I can feel their reasons for being here.
I take comfort in knowing this.
Misery loves company.
