09 January 2010

A moment of subtle misanthropy


Having consumed my tiny, delectable and overpriced cappuccino, I am enjoying a bit of people-watching in the Café Central in Vienna. I feel a great deal of staring from my left at the door, and realize the café is full and 3 or 4 people could easily fit at the small table I am occupying on my own. Somehow, if the place were less busy, I would pay the bill and leave; however, having this space to myself and knowing that the brightly-clad and waterproof visitors, whose searching eyes are multiplying at the doorway, can't have it -- this gives me great satisfaction. I'm tempted to order another coffee just to make them wait. Politely suppressed chaos surrounds me as frenzied waiters rush to seat their foreign customers, and I feel unanticipatedly relaxed. Gradually, a loud Slavic-tongued woman with streaky butter-colored hair edges into my personal space, clarifying her intentions to conquer my table at the soonest opportunity. My peaceful bubble is burst. Watching the everyday lunatic is only fun when one doesn't have to interact with her.

05 January 2010

Poison Pen

I wasn't in love, so I won't cry. It's spilt milk, really. There are several things about this that I find disappointing. 1) No more fancy weekend getaways. 2) I didn't practice my French enough. My fault, of course. 3) My impression is that suaveness generally disguises serpentry. 4) It was tenuous and aimless. Bound for failure, and that was no secret. But he beat me to the punch line. Again. Bastard.