#152

coffee cuppa coffee in this crazy multicultural cafe in east hollywood called sabor y cultura where a table of eight middle aged nerds plays mysterious board games and four black ladies crowd around their elderly mother on this mothers day sunday and the asian barista pours a beverage for a dominican looking fellow and a mexican guy in a dodgers cap hunches over his laptop with his headphones on bobbing to an unheard beat and the korean guy on the couch who looks like he is waiting for someone and the clean cut persian businessman flipping through the back pages of the la weekly and the long haired metal scum finger pecking on his tiny netbook in between biting his nails and the swarthy fellow of indeterminate ethnicity with a mohawk that doesnt match his fiftyish years and me the white guy writing in his notebook at a round table pressed against the wall spying on all my crazy neighbors of the next hour or so who are busy talking or gaming or listening or surfing or reading or serving or asking or daydreaming or whatever else like the redhaired guy that looks just like louis ck with an inscrutable expression who must be thinking of something he doesnt want to be thinking about