Why do I keep coming here? Sitting down at this local semi-chain drinking wimpy dark roast and listening to the resident blowhard prattle on to anyone who will listen that he’s met Cokie Roberts because he trained her son’s dog. He talks about Peter Noonan [sic] of Herman’s Hermits. He talks about everything to anyone like some great black hole of banality. “I train dogs.” And it’s loud, and it’s cold. And it’s awful.
And it’s Valentine’s Day. And it sucks.
The people riding in my car are not responding well to the CD player.
I’m killing time in so many ways.