I’ve started to hang out at a coffee shop in town. It may suck, but there are plenty of people there and usually some folks that I know. So I figure it can’t be all that bad unless most of the people I know also have bad taste.

What I like is that the people recognize you. They say hello, they say good-bye if they catch you walking out (I’ve decided to try and sneak out the front door without them noticing, just to try). It feels homey and comfortable.

It’s the kind of place that makes me want to become a stellar writer.

So I sat there this morning, drinking my two-dollar iced green tea (not a big coffee fan, ironically) and reading. The noise there would normally drive me crazy, but the noise there is a delicious noise to the ear of a musician. It’s haze. If it were one conversation or string of notes, I would find it totally distracting trying to analyze the melodic rhythm, try to outguess the composer of where the musical line will go next, focus in on what people are talking about. But there are enough people there that the noise is quiet and incredibly unfocused so that I can lose myself in my thoughts or my book and find that to be the welcome distraction.