I have absolutely no motivation this weekend. I haven't done a damn thing and I feel as if I accomplished something if I scoop the cat box. I'm supposed to be prepping for a workshop, a teleconference and finish a book proposal, all by tomorrow. Hahahahahahahah! Yeah. Ain't gettin' done.
Instead I'm holding court outside the uni-can at the Crave Cafe. Just me, my journal, this blog and the caffeine-infused denizens of 39th St. There's a big mirror across the room from my couch. It's too high for me to look in it, which is a good thing as my own puss would only distract me from distracting myself. But it's stopping everyone else in their narcissistic tracks. That and assuming I'm the keeper of the inside outhouse as they all ask me, "Is someone in there?" To which I respond in the accurative.
Man, I'm only here for the coffee and the free wireless. And the Tom Waits on the stereo. That barista is da bomb!
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