Mystery Library and Stuff

I’ve never been a writing in coffee shop type but here goes nothing . . .

As you can see it’s quite a nice coffee shop. It’s not even really a coffee shop. Like, they do have coffee and it’s not free so, I don’t know, maybe it is a coffee shop. Let’s just say that it’s part coffee shop – though I’m not sure how big the coffee shop part has to be before the coffeeshoppyness becomes the defining characteristic of the place but . . .

Jesus, is this what people write about in coffee shops?

Anyway, it’s a spot called The Mystery Library and it’s just around the corner from me and, yes, they do sell coffee here. I’m having an iced Americano.

“But surely,” you say, “you could not have gone to all this trouble of pulling out a computer and writing on it, just to tell us, you’re having an iced Americano?”

Well, they can’t all be winners.

But no, that’s not why I’m here writing this. If anything, my purpose is even more prosaic and self-centered than that. I’m just here to complain.

My stuff, you see, is quite far away. It should arrive in Busan in six to eight weeks. In the meantime, I’m stuck wandering around in my gym clothes and my work clothes.

“But Ryan! Isn’t that a suit I see you in now?”

Like, just shut up, okay? Just shut up.

Yes, I brought a couple of suits –I do have to consider my sanity– but mainly it’s the same black dickies and grey sweats, day in and day out, for over a week. And I only have one pair of cufflinks, which I don’t even like, because I brought them by accident.

Anyway, it’s not just the suits. It’s all my stuff. Especially my books. I feel intellectually nude without my books. In one of my classes, I’m even using an e-book. Now, I know this is a controversial subject . . . Actually, check that. I have no idea what a controversial subject even is anymore. Do those still exist? It seems like people fight over ever single fucking thing these days. Is controversy still possible?

But what I’m trying to say is that I hate ebooks. (Almost as much as I hate writing in coffee shops.) Now, that’s not a prescriptive statement –I’m not trying to convert anyone or make any sort of objective case again ebooks– I’m just saying I hate them. When I buy something, I like to be able to hold something. When I read something, I like my hands to experience the book too. To me, e-books feel like McDonalds.

Is there a point here?

Quite possibly not.

So, long story short (well, not so short I guess, I feel like I’ve been writing this for my whole life) I miss my stuff. I know that this is some sort of chance to really grow as human being and become one of those good and free-spirited people that I’ve heard so much about. I could just be like, “it’s cool. it’s just material objects man.’ Maybe I could strip naked and roll around in the mud while I’m at it. I could do that. Maybe I should. But all I really feel is like: ‘THESE ARE MY ONLY PAIR OF CUFFLINKS!? THESE?!

I just miss my shit.

But it’s pretty nice to have this place as an ad-hoc living room.

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