Today I bypassed Starbucks for the Gypsy Den (as Catherine mentioned in a comment yesterday), which is an indie coffeehouse/restaurant near South Coast Plaza. And instead of white tea, I’m drinking a cappuccino. How daring!
It's 7:40 a.m., just opened and there are few people here. Instead of a black Starbucks tee shirt, the barista/waitperson wears plain black with a red and black scarf around her head. On her feet--white high-top Converse. The floor is sandblasted cement and little birds—sparrows?--hop about, pecking at crumbs which are pretty much absent at this early hour.
“Place is fate,” said fiction author Ron Carlson at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books a couple of weekends ago. He was talking about writing fiction, but I wonder how this place, the Gypsy Den, will influence my fiction.
I’ve begun thinking, again, that as well as starting an author speaking series here in the O.C., I want to find a building to make a writer’s space, to rent desks and space, a place away from home to write--for me and for all the writers who really need to get out of the house to work on fiction.
Anyhoo, here’s what I see from where I sit at my table in the corner….
So then I left, to use the rest room, and brought all my gear. (the rest room is on the compound, but not in the cafe). This waterfall sculpure is out back on the way to the restroom, so I thought I'd continue working here, but it was so noisy and bright.