The Starbucks I go to is next to a Burger King, a muffler shop, a Chaldean hooka joint, a dirt cheap barber shop you could clear out instantly by shouting "La Migra!" and some sort of store front holy rolling student ministry. On a typical 102 in the shade summer day, with the 18 wheelers rolling by on their way to El Cajon, I can do with the AC blasting and some gal crooning about whatever is troubling her sensitive soul at that moment. It may not be America. I live in America and I want a place I can get away from it for 45 minutes and pretend I'm in Portland or wherever.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
This is exactly the kind of internet rant that I don't like to link, but I haven't posted in a while, so here goes:
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Sometimes I like to pretend I'm in Portland, too.
My favorite way of pretending in Texas was going to the Green Chai Cafe in Bastrop. There was an unassuming gravel path that led to a secret world of weather-worn buildings, wildflowers, a lazy river, rusted row boats and old cars. Stepping behind the busy street and stores, into this enchanted setting was the best part of my month. Sipping a latte, eating quiche and reading Velvet Elvis....it transported me to the northwest for 2-3 hours a month.
-Katie
Post a Comment