Grey ponytail update

Just a bit of closure regarding Saturday's horrible hippie cafe/bookstore experience: I was feeling kind of guilty for sipping a cup of coffee and squatting there all day. So I approached the owner of the place, who had a red bandana that partially hid the male pattern baldness on the obverse side of his grey ponytail. I asked him if he would mind my spending several hours there working. Of course, that was a stupid move: it was just a blatant attempt for me to ameliorate what was entirely unneccessary guilt.

He fixed me with a piercing gaze and said "Yeeeeahhh.... that's a really tough one. I don't want to put any guilt on you. That's not what I want this to be about. But you should really consider buying something more than your breakfast." Prick.

I needed to work there, since I was without transportation or alternative internet access, and I am by nature non-confrontational (read: pussy), so I looked over the crappy fiction section, sandwiched among rain sticks, worry dolls, self-help books, nonfiction about the ancient wisdom of brown people as interpreted by white people, and Putumayo CD sets. The most attractive of the meager lot was Kerouac's Dharma Bums, so there we go. But I may have to irradiate it to get rid of the taint.