"Extract the Secrets of my Soul"
It has been six years since I've lived here. One side of the street is Tigard, Oregon; the other side is Beaverton.
A "bedroom community" they call it.
But, it's a dungeon -- a dungeon dimly lit with Pottery Barn lamps and dispassionately decorated with Ikea artwork.
Sit here at the Starbucks. Holy fuck! It's as busy as a soup kitchen serving lasagna for supper on a winter night.
Look outside. Fog and fresh bark dust. Pansies bloom in late November.
Who knew?
They hide here -- with their cylindrical vats of sickly sweetened, caramel and almond flavored coffees -- feeding their future.
Fill your grande vente latte with half and half.
You fat bitch!
Where are your beggars? Your dirty streets? Samosas? Burritos?
(Omar sings Beatles songs at 2 AM.)
Live here!
Do you know?
You lose your soul by attending services every Sunday and purchasing applesauce by the quart from Costco.
extract the secrets
of my soul
brewing
mine becomes yours
- found on the back of a Starbucks napkin
It has been six years since I've lived here. One side of the street is Tigard, Oregon; the other side is Beaverton.
A "bedroom community" they call it.
But, it's a dungeon -- a dungeon dimly lit with Pottery Barn lamps and dispassionately decorated with Ikea artwork.
Sit here at the Starbucks. Holy fuck! It's as busy as a soup kitchen serving lasagna for supper on a winter night.
Look outside. Fog and fresh bark dust. Pansies bloom in late November.
Who knew?
They hide here -- with their cylindrical vats of sickly sweetened, caramel and almond flavored coffees -- feeding their future.
Fill your grande vente latte with half and half.
You fat bitch!
Where are your beggars? Your dirty streets? Samosas? Burritos?
(Omar sings Beatles songs at 2 AM.)
Live here!
Do you know?
You lose your soul by attending services every Sunday and purchasing applesauce by the quart from Costco.
extract the secrets
of my soul
brewing
mine becomes yours
- found on the back of a Starbucks napkin
posted by c. @ 10:10 PM
6 Comments:
At 8:46 AM,
c. said…
Beirut has nine Starbucks.
At 10:33 AM,
Anonymous said…
dude, that is so my life. it makes me want to scream most days. maybe that's why i go for sexual freak on the others? just to have a little something different...
tf
At 3:32 PM,
c. said…
Dirty little secrets/consumer sins:
I drink Starbucks on occasion.
I own Ikea lighting.
I have admired Pottery barn products.
I LOVE applesauce and would feel a little better with a gallon or two in the fridge.
It may seem I'm pointing fingers, but I'm really making fun of myself, too. The entire post was written while I sat inside a Starbucks drinking their house coffee (which is a pretty damn good cup!).
At 9:52 PM,
Dern said…
Awesome Post!
Brings alive Scholls Ferry Road one more time.....
And there are more Starbucks here than I care to count, home of the place recently statistisized as the most unfriendliest to the homeless....
At 9:54 PM,
Anonymous said…
I'm going to slit my wrists...under the light of my Pottery Barn lamp...and I'm going to wash it down with some apple sauce, thank you.
Cheers, *C*
At 12:45 PM,
c. said…
Wait *C*!!!
All is not lost.
Put on an Elvis wig and a Southern Baptist preacher's accent.
Go inside Starbucks.
Approach the register and exorcise the demons that dwell there.
Then, you, too shall be saved.
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