Wrote this on Thursday but had no posting abilities

The best young artist people-watching in the city belongs to the Starbucks on Pine and Broad because the University of the Arts is right behind us. Here we have a kid wearing knee high athletic socks and sandals. He still sports a flush of adolescent acne. All of them must required to carry canvas bags with long straps to hang across their chests. They must also have unkempt hair—the girls wear it long and tangled and the boys have white kid Afros or long bangs they must constantly flick out of their ever-watching eyes, who’s looking at me? Who’s not looking at me? How are they reacting? A totally hot guy with a girl who has real dark red hair, Botticelli features and coloring, very pretty too though appears more conservative than he is. He has a square, cleft chin and long, straight blond hair in a Beatles type style, bug eyes, scruffy face. A younger, blond, less smelly looking Jared Leto doppelganger or else James Spader if JS were actually attractive. Once again, the look for me is spoiled by his shortness. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, but it appears to have something to do with her making her schedule, she keeps writing things in a pink planning book. Both are drinking Seagram’s ginger ale, not a Starbucks product in sight. Girls must also don sunglasses bigger than their heads and too long, hazardous multi-colored scarves made out of fluffy stuff. While I was walking here, the kid behind me (green train conductor hat, low slung dark blue jeans, nose piercing) said, Yeah, like he didn’t teach anything in that class, but I learned a lot from him. Profound or profoundly stupid? They have gone and in their place is another handsome short kid with a cleft chin, his hair is long and brown, he’s reading a paperback with da Vinci painting on the front. (The barrista just said, “I do have a way about myself, yeah.” He might be joking. He’s talking to girl—I think it’s a girl, I can only see her hands. He’s cute too, in a greasy way. It seems like he’s talking about how he enjoys the job at Starbucks. He’s good at maintaining eye contact with this person—if guys only knew how effective that is—how much women appreciate being listened to. My mom read somewhere that it’s for that very reason that housewives love the men on soap operas—on the shows, they really listen and respond. Though of course no one ever tells the whole story—that would wrap up the conflicts in like a day instead of six months). He’s leaving. Goodbye second cleft chin boy in twenty minutes. Good luck in your pursuit of art and the perfect non-haircut looking haircut. Half an hour later: a man across me wearing a checked taxi hat, robin blue sneakers, sideburns, he ordered something with whipped cream on top and is also eating a Subway sandwich and Fritos and flipping through Surfer magazine.

Omigod, no one in this coffee shop but me noticed this Afghan hound that trotted by wearing a gold lame scarf on its head. I swear to God. I smiled at the person walking her and she smiled back. Omigod again, Starbucks has its own satellite radio station. SICK! Okay, I mean they are playing Belle and Sebastian, but still.