Coffee, Smokes, and 96 Cents.

 

     How does one achieve the status of a modern day writer? How does one end the day with coffee, smokes, and only 96 cents in the pocket? The end is near when the evening finishes off with a trek down to the Majestic. That late night Mecca of the nonconformists.

     The satisfying meal of an oily omelet, toast, grits, unlimited cups of coffee, and smokes. This delicious meal is to be added to the pleasure of the late night after bar hours debate over the essence of life and the meaning of the written word.

     Friends lend me your ears as the drunken playboys converse about the issues of past loves. As the lovely servant with the oh so pleasant manner serves the fifth cup of Joe to the caffeine enriched debaters, we find ourselves floating about the eatery observing the local wildlife. What a wonderful choice of human beings are on display.

     The nightwalker with her toothless boyfriend pimp discuss the night’s take, or lack thereof since the clock on the wall only reads four thirty, there would seem to be more hours of work to be had. This is not the case as even the downtrodden lovesick fools have all found their ways back to their abodes.

     My companion across the table goes on about how the job which we both are employed at is sucking the lifeblood out of us, and yet we still tread on day after day to bring home the daily wage. My mind wonders over to the table of college girls too drunk to know where they are. The girls are sexy yet comical in the same breath.

      There is a blond with a shapely body spouting off about the men in her life, as if she is deserving of anything better than the simple white trash man she has spent the past month with. Next comes the sexy brunette, the type I am more apt to fall for as she is typically, yet not always the more intelligent of the bunch. The one expected by society to led and mother the silly innocent blondes through their simple lives. The last one of the group is a wild redhead. Society has ordained that this type is the wild, fiery type.

     I know a friend of mind who goes crazy over any redhead to look his direction. God help him if he would ever find himself in either Ireland or Scotland, this would be his heaven on Earth. There is some truth to this myth as I have had first hand knowledge of the spirited redheads. Vibrant spirited women to say the least, never to be the exotic depicted beauties of the artistic worlds, yet all the same a very sexual breed to say the least.

     The three lovely maidens have taken on a more elegant image in my mind as the effects of alcohol still makes its impression on the red blooded American male as I seem to be. My favorite of the female form for just beauty seems to be the black haired mistresses. The gypsy women stir the animal urges in this man.

     My friend diverts my attention by expressing his views on the world of literature. A novelist in his own mind, he astounds on the virtue of Faulkner. My friend is a southern man who finds the stories of this bard to touch his inner feelings.

     I respond on the qualities of the great Henry Miller. The man on the road decades before the chic stylistic views of the great American, Jack Kerouac. The beat generations God for all the world to worship. I too find the writer to be very entertaining and influential. I still recall that it was Miller who left America in the thirties to find the joy and elegance in the streets of Paris only to be banned by the Freedom of the American people.

     Miller was too obscene for the likes of America, who at that time was the infant of the world. The times have changed and now the “mature” Americans have come into their adolescence, while Europe has reached its middle age. America has come to be the attention deficient teenagers of the world. Government has become the parents of the population, who at this time cannot even handle television by themselves. Ratings must be on everything, while nudity cannot be shown but violence has turned into the norm as teenagers come to high schools only to blow away their peers.

     As the night continues my friend loads up on the caffeine. The dialogue deepens in meaning as the group of girls drift from my attention. The conversation finally reaches the point where the philosophies of individuals come out of the woodwork. The mind finally starts to be intrigued by the complex issues brought forth from the lifeforms presented at the table.

     Mankind has finally come to the point where the Greeks were centuries ago. Aristotle and Plato would be proud. The age of man has reverted to antiquity as two young men sit at the dinner called the Majestic after hours in the southeastern Mecca called Atlanta. Come rejoice the development and evolution of the species over Coffee, Smokes, and 96 cents.

      

 

 

Reviews

[Blackbirdsong]

I really love you describe the people and discussions going on around you and with you in this story. Everything feels completely real. I should know having spent many nights like this discussing everything from Joyce to Ju Ju beans and it all just seems to revelant with our cups of coffee and pretensions.

There are some places which need a little polishing - such as here -

"I know a friend of mind who goes crazy over any redhead to look his direction."

Great job though and welcome to the cafe.