John Greenleaf Whittier 9 p.m., Nov. 22
- Community Blog
- I had two interviews
Old California Cafe
Kyle says every thing's mellow.
And when he gets a little drink in him, he'll give you hell insisting that in fact every damn thing is mellow, to what standards I know not.
We were at Old California Cafe awhile back, the coffee house in restaurant row here in town, by the cinema, by fish house, by acalpulco brunos the brewery, and that's when I decided to write the sonnet.
Kyle had an experience out on the water, the sonnet will be titled Kyle And The Deep, or Kyle And The Thing From The Deep, or Kyle And The Shark.
"It was the scariest moment of my life, I freaked out, curled up on my board, scared to paddle anywhere, just looking into the murk and there's the giant shadow, I was really lucky, really lucky man."
That day at the coffee house I had ordered a cheesecake. Kyle finished his BLT.
"What did you order?" he asks, obviously tired of our meandering conversation, tired from an all nighter. We had only come on a whim, I hapd across him walking home and first he said he was too tired to catch a joe, but he said he wanted to, so I convinced him, said he fly I buy, against his will he drove me here.
I sit staring out the window, enjoying the view out the window adverse to the view Kyle seems to enjoy which is the interior of this place. I'm filling out paperwork to seem busy, like everyone else who comes here with something to do.
"A cheesecake." "Oh yeah."
I feel strange ordering that, but what the hell, and why must he force the waitress to bring the food, yeah he's already finished his sandwich and coffee, but I can wait all day, and actually would rather walk out without having to beg for the food I paid for.
I have a history with this place, in my futile attempts to remain incognito I've become a grand fop, quite the fool.
Kyle storms up and retrieves my cheesecake for me. I receive it a little embarrassed at his gesture, a friend who fights for what is owed other friends is quite the friend.
I'm still working on the sonnet: A day long ago past upon the...