Venice Grind
Following up a recommendation on O-Dub's blog Soul Sides, I discovered the Venice Grind, a small coffe shop that's only a short drive (or a medium-length bike ride) from my new bungalow. And, due to some ventilation issues at the bungalow, as well as the sheer boredom of sitting in front of my laptop at home all day long, I'm there right now. I've come here a few times lately to try and get work done. The physical environment of the place isn't particularly charming, nor is it all that well populated, but I really like it nonetheless. In fact, I like it more than any other coffee shop I've been to in L.A. (Not that I've been to that many, but I've been to a few.) Everyone who works here has been very friendly, and they have free (if a little spotty) wireless.
Things are getting a little more interesting as I write this, because some sort of poetry night is about to start. As far as I can tell, only three people have come for it, and they're definitely all poetry night regulars. They're currently comparing notes on the different poetry nights around town. The leader is a middle-aged woman who's very fond of mentioning how she's personal friends with all of the poetry and "spirituality" celebrities that anyone else mentions. She's now trying to convince this other middle-aged dude that some minor poetry celebrity he just mentioned would remember her if he saw her again. The dude she's talking to is quite a character, not unlike the Dude himself, only much more energic ("hyper" leaps to mind as an apt description). His favorite topic of conversation is jazz, and he's mentioned a lot of jazz musicians I've never heard of, usually in the context of saying things like "they taught the young hot-shots of today everything they know". They're setting up the podium for the poetry reading now, and he just complained that he's going to need more light in order to read his poetry. He's wearing sunglasses.
I hate to describe the last participant, but in the interests of accurate documentation I must. She's a very old woman, who came in pushing one of those personal shopping carts that people in pedestrian (read: non-L.A.) cities tend to have. I'll just say it: she's got a sizable white beard. It's about 2 inches long.
Things are getting a little more interesting as I write this, because some sort of poetry night is about to start. As far as I can tell, only three people have come for it, and they're definitely all poetry night regulars. They're currently comparing notes on the different poetry nights around town. The leader is a middle-aged woman who's very fond of mentioning how she's personal friends with all of the poetry and "spirituality" celebrities that anyone else mentions. She's now trying to convince this other middle-aged dude that some minor poetry celebrity he just mentioned would remember her if he saw her again. The dude she's talking to is quite a character, not unlike the Dude himself, only much more energic ("hyper" leaps to mind as an apt description). His favorite topic of conversation is jazz, and he's mentioned a lot of jazz musicians I've never heard of, usually in the context of saying things like "they taught the young hot-shots of today everything they know". They're setting up the podium for the poetry reading now, and he just complained that he's going to need more light in order to read his poetry. He's wearing sunglasses.
I hate to describe the last participant, but in the interests of accurate documentation I must. She's a very old woman, who came in pushing one of those personal shopping carts that people in pedestrian (read: non-L.A.) cities tend to have. I'll just say it: she's got a sizable white beard. It's about 2 inches long.
posted by Charles P. Everitt at 7:01 PM
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