Monday, September 18, 2006

Best Sellers

Another café, another writer. It seems to be a standard in some cafes to have writers who would sit in their own spot in some strange place indoors or outdoors. It would also seem strange that the outdoors would typically be occupied by a woman reading a novel, in a strangely noisy and non-conducive area. Anyway, away with the reader we’re talking about this messed up looking writer and that’s who we will talk about all along. This messy, confused, and passionate writer who is now currently taking interest in the corner hinge part of the door, in fact, the left hinge, as he stares intently, as if there’s something interesting.
If you were to think he’s completely out of his mind, you’re probably right. After all, what does the corner hinge have that is so interesting, he has just got another waiter confused, staring with him intently, awaiting some image to pop-up, like those 3D paintings that has a good half of us wishing there was an open window to throw it off. He stares at the hinge and then he starts writing. He’s got the waiter so confused the waiter went outside with the tray and crossed the street, giving the latte order to some bystander on the other side waiting for the taxi. Upon realizing this, however, the waiter apologized and asked for the coffee back, swearing to never stare intently at the door hinge again.
But the writer writes, and writes. Irregardless of the weather, he writes. Irregardless of the fact that riots are happening outside the café, he writes. Or the fact that the woman outside, reading novels at a noisy street, comes in to look at his work, is now staring at him intently, to ask to read the first page. She is ignored as he writes. She, by the way, is now staring at the hinge he was, and is found utterly confused. She now knows he is a total nut, and she has to read his writings even more.
And he writes, and he writes, and he writes. Irregardless of his state, he writes. His passion for the door hinge has got him writing. And the owner is starting to get irritated over a writer getting people to stare at the door hinge and thus making them confused. What’s worse, he hasn’t even bought any coffee for the past week. He just comes in, sits on his table, and writes about the door hinge.
At long last the opus has been completed. In this time he has written two versions, one for the owner of the café, and the other for the rest of the world to read.
The owner of the café got a letter thanking him for his hospitality and patience for giving a location he found most conducive for writing. A request, though, was asked, that he will be allowed to have his book signing on the table, once the book is published.
And that the door hinge be oiled once a week for its generous service of handling the weight of the door, and its service of opening and closing the door for the customers of this café.
His book, is never about the hinge, but it did get special mention, along with the other hinge and the floor mat. The window got more credit though, because it was the main instrument on which the reflection of the woman reading a novel in an inappropriate location was seen, just beside the door hinge.
The book was entirely based on a poetic inspiration derived from the woman reading a book. Anyone who has such beauty, and passion for a book, to actually want to read it outside a café instead of inside, must be waiting for someone, as the book seems to be a romance novel. She is waiting, and the writer wishes he is with her, sitting in front of her, buying coffee from the neighboring café which, in his opinion, has better coffee, convincing her to buy a decent book, while intently staring at her eyes. He does not have the guts though, and found that when she came in and almost got a conversation from him, all he said was “I’m busy, wait until it is published”. His ruined opportunity was blamed on time since he was getting to a better part of the book, but it is all over now.
Book signing came, and the café owner got his copy signed, and he had to pay for his copy. Irregardless, he’s quite satisfied to be bestowed the honor to have the book signing in his café, little knowing how badly his coffee was described in the book.
Now arrive the woman, he smiles as he signs her book with his mobile number. She knows that it is about her, and gets more excited in getting to read the book. Barely any conversation could be brought up as there is a long line of women reading books in different cafes in noisy locations lined up to get their books signed. She will call him, she promised.
And indeed she called him, a little irritated, for having her taste in books described as “pathetic” and her choice of location as “even more so”. Nothing could be described with her choice of coffee, except “as bad as the book and the location put together”. And felt that if he was just interested with her looks, he should just go and pick girls up in a bar, which he has indeed decided as a better idea after all.

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