I woke up late, and finally made it to the cafe. 
     It was hot outside, but it felt good.
     Marco eventually showed up, and I told him about this dream I had as a kid, where a Gingerbread Man came out of the oven, and tried to eat me.
     We agreed that it would be a good idea for a cartoon.
     The first movie could be called 'The Gingerbread Man', and the sequel would be 'Revenge of The Gingerbread Man'.
     I could do it as an animation.

     Marco said I try too hard about coming up with ideas.

     We talked about how some of the best ideas just come about naturally, in more of an organic sense.

     There were a lot of other things we talked about.

     He liked how I told him about Super Heaven, where if you die in Heaven, then you go to Super Heaven.  I got this from Robot Chicken, a show I really like.

     Other than this, I had to listen to cheap, philosophical talk from a couple of street urchin dudes that I know.  I didn't get involved in the conversation.  I know better, but some bicycle guy from Iceland chimed in, and he realized they were having a stupid, open-ended conversation with no purpose.  That is why I don't talk to those guys, because they have no intent.  It is just meaningless words to fill up time and space.

     Speaking of space, Marco said he has a universe in his mind.  He is a musician, and I understand what he means by that.
     He also said, and I asked him if I could quote him on this, "The scariest place I've ever been is my own mind."

     Marco is an interesting guy to hang out with.

     Anyway, I had my coffee, and I feel much better now.

A little bit about Benny Hill...

     It was another fun day at the cafe.  At first, I couldn't get my favorite outdoor table, so I had to wait for it.  Then, once I got it, and started writing, the man with the crutches and the one leg had to sit near me, and consume a mini-bottle of booze.
     I did get some writing done, and I'm happy about that, though.
     I've been watching a lot of Benny Hill video clips in the last day, and wouldn't you know, I was hearing the theme music in my mind, as I watched young ladies walk up and down the street.  Some even bent over right in front of me.  One woman was watering a tree, and she was bent over, and it was funny, because at one point, all I could see of her was her butt sticking out, so it was just like 'The Benny Hill Show', which was never meant to be serious, or politically correct.  It is just funny, and yes, it is sexist at times, even racist, but it is just comedy, folks, so lighten up.
     Benny Hill's show made me laugh when I needed it most as a teenager, because my family was in Utah, and it sucked being there.  There was nothing to do, and nowhere to go.  It was very isolating.  It wasn't good for me, but Benny Hill provided me with the comedy and the attractive women that I needed to get me through the next day.  Benny was a shining light when I was swamped with Mormonism.  Swamped.

    I'm down to one coffee a day.  It seems to be all I need.

    The man with the one leg and I haven't gotten along since he was on his cell phone in the cafe one day talking really loud, which really annoyed me that he would impose his one-sided conversation onto everybody.
     Eventually we talked it out so that we would leave each other alone.  That was an agreeable situation for me, so why he had to sit next to me when he usually sits inside is beyond me.  I guess I am a magnet for trouble.  I am usually sitting there writing or drawing, so that is usually the catalyst for somebody to come near me and bother me.

     Never a dull moment at the cafe, let me tell you.

     I saw one woman with a shiny black shirt and rather large boobs, but don't be fooled.  Sometimes these girls wear bras that make their breasts look larger than they are.  However, this girl looked like she needed no padding whatsoever.

     Besides that, it was the usual assortment of pretty girls in jeans, with their little butts swishing back and forth as they walk.

     Now that I am forty-five years old, Benny Hill makes more sense to me than ever.  Too bad he is dead, it makes me sad, but his legend will live on.
     Did you know Benny wrote music for the show?  That is pretty amazing, in addition to all of the performing and memorizing of lines he had to do.

     The coffee shop I go to every day is indeed a negative energy source.  If it wasn't so close to my art studio, I wouldn't bother going there.
     Today I had to deal with some crazy lady, and listening to A.A. people, both of which are the worst.

     I'll just go to another coffee shop where nobody knows me.

     It will be much better.

     There is also this big fat drug guy who hangs out on the sidewalk, and just looking at him creeps me out.

     The cafe I go to is a negative energy source.
     I only go there because it is convenient.

     Someday, I won't go there at all.

     I woke up at a reasonable hour this morning, and it sounded like a good idea to go back to bed, so I did.

     So, I woke up for the second time, and stumbled to the cafe.  I work late every night, so it is all I can do to throw on some clothes, and walk groggily to the coffee shop.

     It was another boring situation, with the same tedious, boring people, doing their same boring, tedious crap.  They are either reading a newspaper, on a cell phone or laptap, or talking to somebody about not much of anything.

     Big Fat Billy showed up.  That is my name for him.  Though a more accurate name is, "Big Fat Drug Addict Alcoholic Scary Billy'.  He has a beard and has a tattoo of a pistol on his arm, which is unsettling to look at.
     Anyway, he was kicked out of the coffee shop years ago.  In other words, he was 86'd.  However, he still comes to hang out on the sidewalk every day.  He wants to talk to me, but I don't want anything to do with him.
     I wish he would move to New Orleans or something, and get out of my face forever.

     So, I had my coffee outside, and on one of the brand new tables, which is inlaid with stone, somebody wrote 'GRAFFITY'.
     God, I hate people sometimes.

     My coffee was really good today, but it has been a little too chilly to sit outside and write for an extended period of time.

     I only had to listen to a couple of cell phone calls today.
     For some reason, it always seems that people gravitate towards me to make cell phone calls right in front of me, so I can hear every word of their dialogue.
     I think it is some kind of performance for them, and they consider me an audience member.
     99% of the time, I could really give a truck about what they are talking about. 

     Then the poster man came by to stick some adverts on the wall with some Scotch tape.  He gets paid for ever poster he puts up.  Then to prove he did it, he takes a picture of it.
     Often times, another poster guy working for the same company will cover up the previous guy's posters. 
     The posters are for events that no one would want to go to.  For example, who is going to see Suzanne Vega in concert?  Nobody.

      I was happy to leave today.  Sometimes the vibe there is so lifeless.

      I quit doing my napkin art there due to lack of interest, but now I just draw and write.

     Why does this blog get so many hits?

      I have no idea.

      Maybe it is because I have so many entries.

      I don't think the material I post here is all that great, but people seem to look at it anyway.

      I'm still trying to figure out all of this blog stuff, and how it works.

      I can't tell if 'automated bots' or real people give this thing hits, or both.  There doesn't seem to be a way to tell.

      Anyway, I've been very happy at the cafe in the last week because they put tables outside again.
      It is nice to have coffee, a cigarette, and a sketchpad going all at once.
      It is a good time.

      The drama of the coffee shop doesn't interest me as much as a bar.
      Most coffee shop people that hang out for hours don't have much money, and they don't buy art, so I don't see why I should care about them much.
      They do the same thing as bar people, though.  They scan and judge others, and give nothing in return.
      Truck 'em all.

      Anyway, my coffee was real good today.
      I lost my metal lid for my coffee cup, son of a....., and I don't know what happened to it.  Dang.
      No problem, I'll survive.
      I'm just puzzled by what happened to the lid.
      It probably fell off the cup while it was in the bag, and the lid fell on the sidewalk, and I didn't hear it.  That is rare for me.

      Anyhow, thanks for reading, and have a nice day.

And now here's something we hope you'll really like.

     I had a good day at the cafe today.  I got my coffee, and managed to do some comic book work for two days in a row.
     I haven't done pen and ink work in a while.
     It felt good to just reduce things to black and white again.
     Maybe at some point I will post some of this material.
    
     Otherwise, there were a couple of good looking ladies that I liked, which always makes it worthwhile to go to the cafe in the first place, just to see the chicks.

     Sometimes I draw them.  I have to work fast, because people don't often hold still for long.

     It was a beautiful day.  The weather was fantastic.

     They put tables outside again, since there isn't as much riff-raff hanging out like there was a couple of years ago.

     My coffee was good and hot.  Instead of buying a second cup, I used that money to buy some Arizona brand drinks.  ( There is a plug if I ever saw one. )

     Meanwhile, I started doing some light exercises, and I feel better.