There is a new coffee shop in our town, and I'm surprised by how excited I am about it. I guess it's because the town I live in is so small, and one hour away from anything resembling a city. The Wired Rooster, as the shop is known, is reminiscent of a NYC coffee shop. It's eclectic and fun, and I have been there two times in the last 16 hours. The weird thing is is that I don't even like coffee. The only coffee I every really liked was the latte I used to buy at the convenience store, and I doubt there was any real coffee in that anyway. I am now considering memorizing some Jack Kerouac and performing at open mic night.
“Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that's the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach by the sigh of the sea out there, with the Ma-Wink fallopian virgin warm stars reflecting on the outer channel fluid belly waters. And if your cans are redhot and you can't hold them in your hands, just use good old railroad gloves, that's all.”
― Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums
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