Don’t Know Why: Cafés, Norah Jones and Perfect Stories

My heart is drenched in wine, and you’ll be on my mind forever. 

Here I sit at a quaint, chilly, brewed-coffee scented café, typing away in front of this monitor.


Ahh, who am I kidding? It’s past midnight and I’m sitting at the dinner table, pushing keys to write this. It’s a tad less appealing and conducive for me, but who’s to complain? The only consolation I do have is listening to two versions of Don’t Know Why, one from Norah Jones – the original, and the other from The Voice’s James Massone. Now, I’m not here to compare, they both make me want to sleep on a hammock hanging between palm trees, at the coast of the Bahamas. I will be very cliche and say that this song is such a relaxing song. Stating the obvious facts here, yes.

I’m honestly waiting for that opportunity to eat up hours at a coffee shop, writing and typing away. Never mind the mocha latté and the bagel, I’m just looking for a spot to think and write. The best stories come from sitting at cafés and casually watching people. No, it isn’t being creepy or nosy, I guess. I mean, it’s amusing at how much you might be able to tell about a person who enters a coffee shop. Sure, some people may be able to guess what kind of person one is based on the drink they order – or the clothes they’re wearing, but really, it’s beyond obvious personal profiles and details. It’s nice to think about what kind of day that someone has had. Maybe they had just woken up and are getting their morning fill of caffeine, and maybe it’s their only window for a break at their bustling office and an espresso would hit the spot.

I don’t do these things when I’m out to get my mocha latte, but it’s an amusing thought. I’ve been itching to write about coffee shops, ideas and stories for awhile now, but never had the main objective on hand. I still don’t, as you may have noticed. There are too many thoughts in my head, and it’s just overwhelming. I’m excited, and I’m just having verbal diarrhea, typing out so many nonsensical things. And somewhere in the middle of this I’m going to express how much I want a mug of steaming coffee (which is about now.)

What makes a café so enticing and alluring?

Okay, I might’ve gone overboard with the adjectives, but really? Because it’s quiet, the scent of coffee is diffused in the air-conditioned room, the furniture is comfortable, the lights are perfectly ambient for your mood? What is it that keeps people coming back? Coffee – for obvious reasons.

I shouldn’t be asking this, should I? I know you’d tell me that there are a million reasons to go to a coffee shop, most would be of personal preference and reason. Still, I’m itching to know. It calls for a story, a voice to be heard. The unusual, the mundane and the downright boring. Everything over coffee must be important. A trip to a café could be a simple chore, or it could be a deal-closing appointment; it could be a serendipitous moment, it could be a time of judgment. It all gets exaggerated and spruced up with a little sugar and a dash of whipped cream.

I’m going nowhere, I’m babbling on and on, romanticizing about tons of roasted coffee beans being ground and turned into a multi-million dollar business to keep numerous individuals up and running every single day of their busy lives. It’s a respite, a necessity, an accessory, an addiction. Call it whatever you want. Coffee is the perfect fuel for a perfect story anywhere. I’ll find out soon enough about the charms of little cafés and big franchised coffee shops. In the meantime, I’m going to make a coffee shop playlist, then I’ll write about the even mysterious charms of coffee shops when it rains.

When I saw the break of day, I wish that I could fly away.                                                                                                                                  Instead of kneeling in the sand, catching teardrops in my hand.

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