Tuesday, February 2, 2010

cafes

I love cafes. I ate breakfast this morning at Magnolia Cafe on S. Congress, all the while wondering why oatmeal tastes so much better when someone else makes it. People are beautiful in cafes. It's a stark contrast to people in bars. People are not beautiful in bars. Everyone is trying to be something in a bar, trying to look a certain way, appear to be a certain way, or at least to make themselves feel something that they didn't feel when they walked in the door. And that's before the alcohol sets in. Once they're drunk, it's a different kind of ugly. Alcohol is a great lubricant - it causes thoughts that should remain firmly planted in your mind to slide right out of your mouth and asses to slide right off a barstool and into a bed where they don't really belong. Drunken people become cartoons of their true selves, and it isn't pretty at all.But in the cafe, people are beautiful in the way they're relaxed, with no agenda except to fill their bellies and maybe to visit. They're beautiful in the way they tend to their children, or to each other with quiet, intimate conversation and holding hands under the table. They're beautiful with their heads tossed back freely in laughter or quietly studying the morning paper. I love cafes.

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