something strange

[Godfather]

A most bizarre thing happened to me today -
I found this new coffeeshop - fantastic place, old velvet armchairs and couches, big oak tables, strange paintings, candles and good coffee. really nice. Before I went there today I went into a bookshop and picked up a book of Shakespearian sonnets and wrote the structure on my hand (then paid the £3 I owed the secondhand bookshop owner). When I got to the cafe, I sat on a couch which was one of four around a table, and I caught the conversation of two people beside me. They were discussing poetry. This has never happened to me before. They were writing together, and discussing form - one was quite young, the other not too much older. So, at one point I made conversation and mentioned that I wrote poetry - she gave me her email. Then, a man sitting on the other side of the table interjected that he was a poet and joined the conversation. 4 poets talking in a cafe, by pure coincidence.

I was distracted, though, by a girl at the other side of the room though - we were throwing glances back and forth and she was pretty. And damn... why didn't I talk to her...

But I digress. It was an absurd situation for me.

[kdnxdr]

It was a fantastic situation for you, GF.........I'm soooooooo jealous, about the poetry happening thing..........not the glancy, sorry you missed your op with the girl thing.

I need to find my local coffeeshops.

:)

[poetinahat]

That's the best anecdote I've heard in a long time. What a dilemma. What an ache.

My strange event is less romantic: I work in a cube farm. About a year and a half ago, in the midst of relocating from one side of the floor to the other, near my new I passed a file cabinet near my new allotted home. On its side, someone had taped a printout of W.B. Yeats' Sailing to Byzantium.

I asked around - no one knew who'd put it there. Workers shift cubicles the way shells are moved on the beach: an unfathomable, but ultimately pointless, reiteration. I'll never know where the poem came from.

But it's still there.

[Feiss]

That's the best anecdote I've heard in a long time. What a dilemma. What an ache.

My strange event is less romantic: I work in a cube farm. About a year and a half ago, in the midst of relocating from one side of the floor to the other, near my new I passed a file cabinet near my new allotted home. On its side, someone had taped a printout of W.B. Yeats' Sailing to Byzantium.

I asked around - no one knew who'd put it there. Workers shift cubicles the way shells are moved on the beach: an unfathomable, but ultimately pointless, reiteration. I'll never know where the poem came from.

But it's still there.

How does a person farm cubes? Is it the season for Rubix?

yeah, you'd never have something like that happen here, the most that could happen is being in a coffee shop, and a stranger accosts you to talk about business or the stock market, and it's all...I'd rather be taking a poo than talking with you about wall street.

But ah, the sunsets in AZ

[KTC]

That sounds like such a cool coincidence. I hope you took advantage of it.

[Dichroic]

That's the best anecdote I've heard in a long time. What a dilemma. What an ache.

My strange event is less romantic: I work in a cube farm. About a year and a half ago, in the midst of relocating from one side of the floor to the other, near my new I passed a file cabinet near my new allotted home. On its side, someone had taped a printout of W.B. Yeats' Sailing to Byzantium.



A while back, my former company decided that only people director-level and above could have offices and moved a bunch of us into cubes (this was all the more annoying since my former office stayed empty for months.) It was as I was putting up my poster with a picture of a single sculler and a selection from Tennyson's Ulysses (the part from "I will not rest from travel; I will drink life to the lees" to "Beyond the utmost bound of human thought") that I found out that against all odds, the company had given me a cubemate who was the only other rower in that thousand-employee site.

The poster itself would have been even better without the typos and the changes from Tennyson's intended spellings. I did call and complain, but the rowing-gear company had only bought the posters from someone else. But I did make a new friend and get her back on the water!

[scottVee]

Enjoy whatever synchronicity life throws your way. To me, the fact that you were distracted by a girl and forgot to finish the story is the most poetic part.

;-)

[Teena]

scott, GF is always distracted by a girl....but that aside.

Godfather, coincidence of poet convergence accepted as eerie and fun! But, I LOVE your description of the place and want to move there and live. (Uh...they serve tea, right?) Here everything is cold, sterile and Starbucks. IF they have any soft furniture at all it is either a pair of smallish side chairs or a teensy couch-ette that isn't big enough to spread out a volume of Keats and your writing tablet at the same time. Not conducive to reading, writing or discussing poetry or anything else, IMO.

(Starbucks in other locales with nice cushy, soft furniture excepted.)

Wonderful anecdote and appreciate your sharing it.

[Teena]

How does a person farm cubes? Is it the season for Rubix?

Fei, you know what a cube farm is....like prairiedog-ville for taller critters!:D I lived there once.