Not everyone has a room of their own, but we all have to write somewhere. I write best in public–in coffeeshops, on trains, in hotel lobbies–places where the people sounds blend into ambient noise.
On Sunday mornings, F and I hike up to Kopi Travelers Cafe for breakfast and writing. Today–like every other Sunday– I will wake F up at 9:20 so he has time to brush his teeth. Then we’ll hop in the car and drive to Andersonville. He’ll drop me off out front so I can be sure to get our table as soon as Kopi opens at 10 (though no one else shows up until 10:15). He parks the car while I wait on the sidewalk for the waitress to unlock the door, like a puppy waiting for the mailman.
I grab our favorite table at the very front of the coffeeshop. As you can see in the photo, Kopi has a carpeted front area with low tables and pillows. It’s the only time I get to write on the floor, and I love it! If I ever do have a room of my own, it’s going to look just like Kopi (though a bit less psychedelic).
We don’t need to order–everyone knows exactly what we want, and within ten minutes, we both have coffee, F has a breakfast sandwich (plain bagel, egg, and “a little bit of cheddar-jack cheese”) and I have my oatmeal (dried fruit, bananas, steamed skim milk). It’s our version of Cheers.
The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell,
Selected Poems of Geoffrey Hill,
Krazy Ignatz 1925-1926, edited by Bill Blackbeard,
and three notebooks.
It’s my perfect morning.