ribble's Quest: Day 3

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Today a nice lady pointed out to me that this is the first time in my life when I'm under no external pressure to do anything. Before I was always in school or working, but now I'm out of school and relatively unemployed.

My old friend Tom told me a few months ago that if he were in my position, he'd go to California and learn how to surf. I guess what I'm doing is the ribble equivalent: looking for a quiet place where I can do what I like and be left alone.


In the movie formula, the main character always starts his quest with one objective in mind and then figures out by the end that he's really wanted something else. Like he thinks he wanted as much gas as he can carry, but really he wants the good guys to win. Or he thinks he wants to inherit a fortune, but really he wants to get married. Or he thinks he wants a cup of coffee, but really he wants to sleep with a nun. Well, here's how I'm doing on the coffee:

Today I visited Grounded in Greenwich Village. This was a great writer's cafe.

There were lots of people with laptops, which is the first requirement. Smaller than Hungarian Pastry Shop and Tea Lounge, but I'm getting used to that. Ceramic cups like God intended, music that was good but I could tune out, free interweb and, most importantly, no pressure to leave.

They serve tea as well as coffee, and real brewed-in-a-teapot tea, not pussy-ass, tea-bag, paper-cup tea. It was a nice change after staying up half the night waiting out my three-coffeeshop caffeine buzz (I'm cutting to one coffee shop a day for now).

My favorite feature was ceiling fans. In the South-West, every room of every building has either central air or a ceiling fan. I'm convinced the lack of a ceiling fan infastructure is why summer is so brutal here in New York.

This makes four great places to write in New York (five counting the ones that don't serve coffee), and all in different neighborhoods. I am turning this city in to a personal buffet of artistic pleasure.

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