the long boo-bye, part 1

I don’t know how this will all turn out. Not B*heme. B*heme will be over soon. No. I mean this. These posts about it. I’m literally writing off the top of my head here. And that’s how I’ll do it. I don’t want to overthink it because I’m exhausted about it in general. I don’t need to become more exhausted trying to eke out posts about it. So these will be more like journal entries, I suppose. Likely full of ranting and rambling and hyperbole and fingerpointing. (If you think that doesn’t sound like a journal entry, you’ve never read my journals. And, you know, thanks for that, seriously.)

So. Pointless, incoherent ramblings? Bitter rage and recriminations? You need to jump on this merry-go-round of fun NOWWW!!

Okay. First, here’s a truth: We’ve discovered, MB and I — over probably the longest seven months of our lives — that we really WANT to have a coffeehouse. We really DO. Oh, yes, indeedy. More than anything, we want to lounge behind a large window every morning, sensuously sipping our espressos, tempting all the passersby, you know, like those hardworking hookers in Amsterdam.

BUT.

When people come and knock on our window and want to be serviced, we want — more than ANYTHING, I tell ya — for people to drop money at our lazy feet while we laugh and laugh and laugh and LAUGH.

Hey, I said it was a truth. I didn’t say it was nice. Basically, we want to make lots of money at a coffeehouse that nobody comes to but us. And if I could flop in my jammies, do crosswords, and read, so much the better. I mean, this is just what we’ve learned after lo! these many aggravating months. Really — okay, let’s be honest — we want, as sober, healthy, childless, white US citizens to be richly rewarded for doin’ nuthin’ but hanging out and drinking coffee.

So if any of you know of such an opportunity, you can email me, mmkay?

But do it now, before I implode.