I take it black
The woman who owns the newly opened Internet cafe down the street from me is continually surprised that I want my coffee black. It’s true that I don’t go in there that often, but it’s also not an odd way to drink it. There’s usually an inch and a half of unfilled space at the top of my cup, presumably for cream. When I start to put the lid on she breaks in — “You don’t want any cream?” — “No sugar?”. Then she tells me that I’m very brave.
Across from the counter there was a portable TV set up that I watched as my coffee was being prepared. It was some sort of exposé about Moby being attacked outside of a nightclub. They played the same clip over and over again, focusing in on certain people with play-by-play technology. I hadn’t heard of this before, so I looked it up when I got home. For those that don’t know, it seems that in December Moby was attacked outside of a Boston nightclub by 3 guys for still unknown reasons. I enjoy Moby’s speculation as to why:
“Maybe they don’t like skinny bald guys who play cover songs. I’m sure that’s it. It’s my fault. I should’ve posted a warning on the entrance to the club: ‘Warning: Tonight’s show will at times be comprised of cover songs poorly played by Moby, a skinny bald musician.’”