Stories
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I began alone, didn't know anybody. I wasn't sure how to act and what personality I should exhibit. A gay woman would come in and it was not crowded. She wore cowboy boots, knew the people behind the counter, was loud and brash with short blond hair, slim good figure and not tall. One table exhibited a white card black letter no smoking sign closest to the counter. She would take the sign and move it to an empty table and sit down and smoke with her coffee and doo-dads and converse with the workers. She was dashing and I decided I would imitate her in my coffee house manners.
It was the late seventies early eighties and it was the SF Mission. There were no coffee houses in the Mission but maybe one other. Noe Valley there was one, I used to go a few times at least and sit in the front window. It was called the Meet Market becasue it had been a meat market. It was just up the street from fhe famous Bud's Ice cream. I would do design drawings with colored markers on small Srathmore paper and leave them on the table when I left. I didn't meet anybody in those days now recalling before the Cafe Commons.
I am trying to remember who I might have first met at the Commons but can recall no first meetings. Perhaps my best friend the Professor, long shoulder length hair in those days black, silver wire rimmed glasses, longish beard, started coming down. He was an English professor so he knew how to meet people. I know there was soon a table round seating six people usually in the front window, a gang there every day. Whoever of our table group getting there first early, would get that table and we-all would meet everyday.
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