Tonight’s musical selections were from William Orbit’s Pieces in a Modern Style, specifically the Ferry Corsten and ATB remixes of Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings. My Woodstock Nation dogtags were hanging from the rearview mirror, appropriate since I was as nervous as a grunt on his first patrol in the jungle. I played both pieces all the way through twice on the 20-25 minute drive to the coffee house, and in a way the music only made me more nervous, since the Adagio was featured prominently in Platoon. Sigh. Why can’t tonight’s theme movie be about a war which we didn’t get our ass kicked in. How about The Guns Of Navarone? Yeah!

I was on my way to see the coffee house girl. See, folks, this stuff doesn’t get any easier when you get older. And yes, I am aware that the cute waitresses are not flirting with me, but I know this woman from outside of the coffee house. Our convoluted history is too complicated to get into right now, but this is the first time I have stopped by with completely non-Platonic intentions. Hence the butterflies.

When I arrived, I brought in a copy of Dave EggersA Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. I am actually reading this book, so it was not an effort to be blatantly hip. Besides, she might not even recognize the book and mistake the inherent hipness and postmodern irony for hyperbolic seriousness. "What a stupid title!" she might remark. In any case, I did leave the copy of the new Harry Potter book I borrowed from Sylvar at home. Besides, he’d kill me if I spilled coffee on it, though I did manage to negotiate the evening with the Eggers book intact.

Before I become completely absorbed in Eggers tangental and rambling writing style, let me continue with the anticlimax: she wasn’t there. It has been a long time, too long, since I stopped by. She could have quit, or gotten married, or be dead. I don’t keep track of my friends well, as they often complain. I was at once relieved and disappointed.

I stayed anyway, and lost track of time reading. Not that I’m complaining, it was great: the first long uninterrupted stretch of reading I’ve done in a while. About halfway through my stay, the band showed up, the one that makes me think of the Partridge Family. They played classic rock, great old songs that I know all the words too. I’m a sucker for this stuff, all the stuff I used to listen to on local radio before all the stations changed to 80s hair rock.

So now I’m home, writing this sucky node which is a pale imitation of Eggers. Sigh, why can’t I be a slacker novelist too?