Starbucks Paradise

Sometimes, things are not as they appear. I’m sitting in Starbucks, Maida Vale, with my Powerbook 17″ in my lap, having set up a T-Mobile “HotSpot” account which allows me to access various wireless broadband hotspots for £1, charged at the beginning of every 15 minute session. I have a beautiful briefcase, a Bill Amberg gym bag and a Dunhill shoulder bag by my side. Most of my essentials are contained therein. Style, pose, and yet, I am not what I seem.

This is the beauty of Great Britain. I’ve fucked myself, the system has fucked me, and yet I’m still able to do this, to appear to be something I’m not. I like writing, and I am able to continue doing that, albeit in short bursts. I’ve just had my first food and drink for the day, it feels great. I feel like I have dined like a king.

Talking of kings, earlier today, I met a great friend. I was helping him help a friend to get a laptop. We completed our mission in an hour. He was kind enough to buy me a travelcard that let me ride the tube. Never have I felt so happy at being the recipient of a four-zone travelcard. I never thought the day would come when I would consider the tube a ride of princes. Today, the tube has saved me a lot of time, and I’m grateful to my friend for helping me out.

The sun is out, as is Star Wars. Despite the hideous week, I still feel a sense of release and joy at the prospect of a weekend ahead, full of possibility, and perhaps even more improbability. I am actually enjoying the challenges that life is throwing at me. This character-building through bum-rape is not so bad you know. I will not be beaten.

The caterpillar thought it was dying. Then it woke up as a butterfly…