Recursive Words

It’s a bank holiday here today. Rather than give in to expectation or obligation to “not waste the day”, I’m just pottering about, and not really achieving much at all. It’s wonderful.

I considered wandering into town – to prop myself at a table in a cafe with the laptop for a couple of hours – but then caught myself in the whole “performance” dilemma I mentioned recently. Do I really need to be sitting in a public place, people watching – even if it is unintentionally entertaining? Do I really want to be “that guy”, sitting with the laptop in a cafe?

When you see somebody sitting in a coffee shop, perfectly put together, tapping away on a laptop with a cup of frappa-chappa-skinny-whatever next to them, do you immediately presume they are cosplaying in plain sight? I tend to – and I also feel guilty for thinking it – because maybe they’re always that well turned out.

When I slope off to Spoons and hide in a booth early on a Saturday morning, I’m invariably unshaven, cloaked in a giant hoodie, and gazing slack jawed at the screen. The lack of self-awareness is probably hilarious.

The thing I love about sitting in public places on my own is that nobody wants anything from me. There’s no chore, task, or errand waiting for me.

For me, it’s more about escape than being seen. I’m the hassled looking guy you’ll spot hiding in the corner – not the effortlessly fashionable guy with the French bulldog tied to the outdoor cafe chair, wearing the chunky-knit sweater a friend told him to buy after reading a Cosmopolitan article about how to attract partners that won’t see past the performance.

Of course hiding in plain sight doesn’t stop my phone from following my every move – filling itself with emails and messages – and then there’s the guilt if I don’t respond to any mail or message immediately – and the even worse guilt if I miss a message from somebody that matters.

Do you wrestle with who matters? I do. Obviously family first, but among friends and acquaintances, do you triage at all? Can some people wait, while others cannot?

Anyway.

Enough thinking.

Perhaps a coffee, then another hour scrolling while listening to Kacey Musgraves empty my head while wondering how she knows so much about me.