Observations in a Coffee Shop
Note:
- lazy sitting
- rolling of the head
- strange sideways hunching at times
- left hand planted on knee
- right hand with phone
- chewing of the inner cheek
- intermittent flick of the head
- catching himself noticing himself
- when door opens, he crosses arms and sits back and sees who it is
Conclusion: The lazy sitting suggests jock, but unmotivated. Chewing of the inner cheek is a sign of self-doubt and a need of lots of affirmation, further upholding my jock analysis. His behavior is suspicious when the door opens, signifying unrest and rocky relationships. He is probably on the wrong end of a bad relationship. Coffee jock in question needs two solid months in the country.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
CASE STUDY 3: Coffee Shop Mannerisms
Observations in a Coffee Shop
Note:
- upright, good posture
- holding book poised in right hand
- left hand twirls topmost cardigan button
- feet uniform, stiff, close together
- eyes read nervously, then glance at door
- fidgeting with left hand to table
- leans back and forth
- taps fingers
Conclusion: Posture suggests the coffee-drinker in question is of studious character and good discipline. However, the left hand nervously twirling buttons and tapping knees suggests obsessive tendencies and impatience. I want to focus especially on the door-glancing. This suggests guilt and bad family history. Leaning back and forth signifies discontent. To be sufficiently cured, patient in question needs vacation, vitamins, and distance of two years from family plus counseling.
Note:
- upright, good posture
- holding book poised in right hand
- left hand twirls topmost cardigan button
- feet uniform, stiff, close together
- eyes read nervously, then glance at door
- fidgeting with left hand to table
- leans back and forth
- taps fingers
Conclusion: Posture suggests the coffee-drinker in question is of studious character and good discipline. However, the left hand nervously twirling buttons and tapping knees suggests obsessive tendencies and impatience. I want to focus especially on the door-glancing. This suggests guilt and bad family history. Leaning back and forth signifies discontent. To be sufficiently cured, patient in question needs vacation, vitamins, and distance of two years from family plus counseling.
Today's Spicy Tidbit
As cat whiskers must be cleaned on a daily basis, so must a person's vision of the world.
SHORT STORY: Bernard Cobalt
Basis: a shy book nerd who can't find a place to study.
Notes: Bernard's last name, Cobalt, says nothing about him as a person; Story written by authors alternating sentences, so it is certainly a joint effort.
Bernard Cobalt
Picking up his book, his favorite book, off the ground, the wet ground, Bernard made his way toward Edward Julian's, his coffee shop of choice for intense study outings. He wiped off the book with a smear on his pants, reddening when he thought of the way he'd walked right into a phone pole because he'd caught sight of that pretty girl. Oh, what a pretty thing she was, that Sally Hitchens. He bit his lip to hold back the smile, shoving his glasses back up his nose and entering the shop.
Walking in the open door, Bernard's heart raced up his throat as he saw many bodies studying, chatting, and some staring. He instantly thought they were staring at him so he felt self-conscious and quickly ordered his drink in a mumbled voice and shuffled to the corner table, not meeting anyone's eyes. The chair wobbled, a definite studying fright and reasonable excuse to exit EJ's as quickly as possible. In his extreme haste, he threw open the door so hard that he slammed the packed-full trashcan, making it explode in a hail of drippy cups and crumpled napkins. Appalled at his own clumsiness, a daily occurrence, and avoiding slightly judgmental glances, he hurriedly and quite inefficiently stuffed the debris back into its worthy container.
No one helped him. In fact, the baristas were used to such a display of clumsiness from Bernard that they added a tally to their "Bernard moments" sticky note. He was halfway through the door when he felt a hand on his arm - Sally Hitchens' blue eyes met his, concerned. Her hand slid down his arm, meeting his hand which she turned over to reveal a sliver the floor had given him. She looked away embarrassed. The sight of blood made her feel like vomiting. But all her popular friends stood behind her, waiting with weirded-out expressions so she turned and left and did not say bye.
Confused, Bernard shuffled out of the shop, heading in the opposite direction of Sally and her posse. The rain fell - so did his tears. Why did she show such kindness, but revert back to such a composed figure, a beautiful figure?
As he neared the crosswalk, tears and rain falling, he heard a cry behind him and turned to see Sally running after him, reckless, so he opened his arms and caught her and they kissed and cried and laughed and kissed again. "Sally! What do you think you're doing with a bookie?!" Her boyfriend shouted from across the street. She ignored him.
THE END.
Notes: Bernard's last name, Cobalt, says nothing about him as a person; Story written by authors alternating sentences, so it is certainly a joint effort.
Bernard Cobalt
Picking up his book, his favorite book, off the ground, the wet ground, Bernard made his way toward Edward Julian's, his coffee shop of choice for intense study outings. He wiped off the book with a smear on his pants, reddening when he thought of the way he'd walked right into a phone pole because he'd caught sight of that pretty girl. Oh, what a pretty thing she was, that Sally Hitchens. He bit his lip to hold back the smile, shoving his glasses back up his nose and entering the shop.
Walking in the open door, Bernard's heart raced up his throat as he saw many bodies studying, chatting, and some staring. He instantly thought they were staring at him so he felt self-conscious and quickly ordered his drink in a mumbled voice and shuffled to the corner table, not meeting anyone's eyes. The chair wobbled, a definite studying fright and reasonable excuse to exit EJ's as quickly as possible. In his extreme haste, he threw open the door so hard that he slammed the packed-full trashcan, making it explode in a hail of drippy cups and crumpled napkins. Appalled at his own clumsiness, a daily occurrence, and avoiding slightly judgmental glances, he hurriedly and quite inefficiently stuffed the debris back into its worthy container.
No one helped him. In fact, the baristas were used to such a display of clumsiness from Bernard that they added a tally to their "Bernard moments" sticky note. He was halfway through the door when he felt a hand on his arm - Sally Hitchens' blue eyes met his, concerned. Her hand slid down his arm, meeting his hand which she turned over to reveal a sliver the floor had given him. She looked away embarrassed. The sight of blood made her feel like vomiting. But all her popular friends stood behind her, waiting with weirded-out expressions so she turned and left and did not say bye.
Confused, Bernard shuffled out of the shop, heading in the opposite direction of Sally and her posse. The rain fell - so did his tears. Why did she show such kindness, but revert back to such a composed figure, a beautiful figure?
As he neared the crosswalk, tears and rain falling, he heard a cry behind him and turned to see Sally running after him, reckless, so he opened his arms and caught her and they kissed and cried and laughed and kissed again. "Sally! What do you think you're doing with a bookie?!" Her boyfriend shouted from across the street. She ignored him.
THE END.
CASE STUDY 2: The Evils of Tourism
Observations in an Airport Gate
Note:
Note:
- one pair bloodshot eyes
- trench coat, beige, floppy
- mechanical gait
- one pair hands, stuffed in jacket
- hair, non-uniform with round soft spot
- darting steps
- briefcase, trim
- one pair squeaky shoes
Conclusion: Upon first glance, the assumed accountant in question is desiring of a new pair of relaxing dress shoes, an appointment to Nancy's Hair for Professional Men, a seminar on the proper placement of hands while walking, and a subscription to Sleeper's Guide weekly.
CASE STUDY 1: The Evils of Tourism
Observations in an Airport Gate
Note:
Note:
- one pair tube shorts
- one pair pasty white legs, floppy
- sauntering gait
- one pair dark glasses
- smile, benign
- one baggy Hawaiian shirt
- tall
- one sandwich, unwrapped, gusting meat
- camera bag
Conclusion: By observance, the tourist in question needs a clear wardrobe update, a class on the instruction of sandwich carrying, a facial expression seminar, and a recommendation to a corrective gait therapist
The Scandal of the Homeless Pets
On a chilly almost-summer's eve, when it was too late to go home, and fries had re-energized their souls and their brain circuits, Wal-Mart held the keys, the secrets to their entertainment. Standing perplexed in the craft aisle, they alighted upon the yarn and a thought dropped into their heads. Clink! Wrapping a front porch in yarn as a prank? No, no too risky. Another idea began to form - faint at first, but becoming beautiful, edges defined, refined. A ball of yarn could be a homeless pet, given eyes and a proper companion. These two could develop into resigning vagabonds to be deserted, left on a cold porch, a hair past midnight.
They made their purchases, assembled the creatures' pitiful appearances en route to the scene of future abandonment, present pranking, and, undoubtedly, an abundance of giggles. Slipping off their shoes after carefully parking a block away, they scampered across cold pavement, making their way slowly, silently, to the duplex that was illumined by a single, small, suspended, sad light.
The situation was critical when giggles erupted and almost met the breaking point. To their chagrin, they realized only one was physically capable of continuing on this dark quest.
"Are you serious, Jenny?" Katy demanded in a scratchy whisper.
But Jenny could not respond. She only squeaked and gesticulated. So Katy, with cautious and cat-like maneuvers approached, paused, contemplated, then with decided composure, placed the two wayfarers on the darkened step. She scampered off. The two girls raced to the car with benumbed feet and muffled voices.
They left with the expectation that the fingers of dawn would soon caress the orphans. For with the sun, the duplex-dwellers would find this: A heap of furry and fraying gray yarn, its large and wiggly eyes secured to its hairball-like frame with old pre-chewed gun, and next to it, across from a note that read "Good home needed" in scraggly boyish scrawl, its companion - a curled, chipper, bug-eyed porcelain snail.
What would become of these two orphans when discovered? We may never know.
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