and then...verbalize

Could she bring up a serious issue here? Why can't we talk?

I can talk, sure. I practiced. I mean I have a lot of muses to manage, I talk often. But my gosh, what is wrong with writers these days? They write words so often that they can't sound them! I go to a workshop and it's like nobody knows what they are doing.

Finish your sentences. Cover one topic at a time. Writers are so bad at speaking...we get all isolated, and no practice. This is why you should talk to yourself. 

What is your story about? Oh, please. In the name of God, if it's your first draft, just say you aren't sure. Because every undeveloped answer is a plot summary or a sprawling list of themes. 

I'm nocturnal and it will be Tuesday in less than an hour. So really I have to hurry with this entry, I suppose I may edit it later. I just happened to notice that most young writers have no clue how to talk and it's maddening. If you try to talk like you write, you won't get anywhere. You'll talk in first draft. Just take it easy. Take a deep breath and speak one idea at a time. 

I have trouble distinguishing sexuality from inspiration. So I've been sexual since I was born or I'm not sexual at all. That is, sex is a manifestation of passion that can be attained independently of passion and so abused. We think ourselves so wrong, we let self worth slip. We are all stronger and more correct and innocent than we think. 

And dialogue, lately! Love how it wakes me in early hours.

and then...cafés

My title has an accented E appropriate but I won't be making such consistency in the body of this post. I used to be accustomed to the French keyboard but I've lost it. 

The cafe is my home, so I'll say cafes are a writer's home. A cafe is an atmostphere made to be an atmosphere. Can you imagine a more magical place to work? There's the beach, of course, but sand would get in my keyboard. Museums have a lovely atmosphere, but they're too quiet and don't have tables. And you can't make a mess in a museum. 

Over the past year or so, I have become intimately acquainted with cafes. I have looked far and wide for the ideal cafe, and I have outlined some characteristics which determine its perfection. A cafe must have:

Products:

• Food. If I'm staying here all day, I want lunch.
• Great coffee. Duh.
• Quality desserts with good variety. Gluten free options give you bonus points!

Atmosphere:

• A feeling of being approachable, yet intimate. Literally: furniture must have strong variation. Armchairs and couches for comfort (keep them clean, please), small tables for conversation, large tables for work, at least one private corner and an optional separate room for large parties.
• Reading material and board games for entertainment and relaxation. 
• Friendly baristas! Baristas are as essntial as bartenders. They must CARE about your work and your cup of coffee. Supportive, friendly, and charismatic baristas are a must. 
• Artwork. It helps if the artwork and furniture change every once in a while. 
• MUSIC: 
  • Regulars who are working on longer projects, such as myself, typically bring their own music. So while cafe music is a must, not too loud, please. GOT THAT, STARBUCKS?
  • Not too commercial. In fact, bizzare music is welcome; but be sure that it is atmostpheric and doesn't have a drastic dynamic range; the songs should have a roughly even volume throughout.
• Outdoor seating for the smokers, please. Those silly boyz think it makes them sexy, after all. Let them have their fun.
• Temperature control! We know you want to save money, but once it hits the nineties, turn on the AC! Also, don't freeze us to death. GOT THAT, STARBUCKS?

Business:

• Reasonable prices, please. I understand the the price of coffee goes up sometimes. But if it's more expensive than Starbucks, it's done.
• A cafe does well do solicit local businesses and independent artists. I plan to take full advantage of this because I'm an author, so.
• A cafe does well to associate itself with a charity or cause; it makes the place more marketable. 

A note about Starbucks:

I won't include Starbucks in my ranking list, because Starbucks is a natural exception. But it's also damn brilliant; making a franchise out of something that is inherently not a franchise. Good coffee, great marketing, adorable desserts. The designers and copy writers working for Starbucks are brilliant. Clean sophistication with a homey touch--, that's Starbucks for you, and they nailed it. Business students should be studying Starbucks under a magnifying glass.

At last, here is my list of cafes I've visited, roughly categorized by from best to least best: 

1. Blackdog Coffeehosue
2. Public Domain
3. Dunn Bros Coffee
4. Peet's Coffee and Tea
5. The Roasterie
6. Homer's Cafe
7. Scooter's 

They're all lovely cafes or I wouldn't include them in my list at all. I am the only regular female at my preferred cafe; who knew cafes were such a guy place, teehee. Or maybe it has something to do with females typically moving in packs. Or with boyfriends. I haven't ever a boyfriend, but I have found surrogates that fulfill most duties of that my hypothetical boyfriend would have. My mirror tells my how pretty I am, his name is Glass. Mace protects me; he's a real character. And my backpack, Avery, carries all my stuff. Maxima takes me places. And as for Pen, well, he's just a slut. Now all I need is muscled pheromones with comforting shoulders! :D Glee!

and then...species

Yesterday, being someone trying to write a poem was unusual for me. I don't usually try, when I write poetry. I just do. That's why don't I don't call myeslf a poet, so. 

But it made me think of species of art. Art you make because circumstance, experience and consequence; and art you make in spite of those things, which is just what art is. Just because i have a poetic voice doesn't mean I could spend all my time make art healing, art healing, art heals, I know. The advice I give is always to produce work, to get you out of any rut. But does that represent us? Like if I say:

To my dear sexed vanguard

sir lovely

mental faculty is met most clean in waists tapering, boys capering, backs arching into 

"Infrastructure!"

is your softest plea for touch me, touch me. 

That's all very clear, right? Oh I'm so young and broken hearted. But gosh it's not our novel made magnum opus. But look out for Trachea and the like, when I release them. I don't call myself a poet but. Boy backs arch anyway...

So, Cope Syndrome is my self despite. In his self righteous, highest species of art. But I must say, if I am to tie it to circumstance, my novel, unlike all other real males his age, is not ashamed to say he loves me. heheh. 

Utensils? I've used four pens and three pencils in the last two months. Trying to get rid of the ones I've gotten so that I can get the ones I want...I bought my favorite for awhile until I realized how silly it was at two dollars a pen when I already had too many. 

You have the line to consider, and the weight of the ink, and the delivery of the ink, the fumes, to look, the shape in your hand, hahphallicphallic, fettish unfinished, I love writing by hand. 

In fact, these blog posts of just about the only thing I type without writing by hand first. Except Skype messages and some Twitter posts. I suppose there are others, I don't care to to think of it. Well dear, isn't that our tagline fresh. If you have questions for me or the muses, you leave a comment.