Tuesday, November 21, 2006

if you meet this barista on the road, kill him


After the indignity to my coffee, I sat down and sketched while he took his diseased hands and scooped coffee beans into a bag for some soon-to-be-ill customer. This was the point where I "whipped out my notepad," just like all the exciting artists and intrepid journalists do.

I've been wanting to sketch this guy for a while because of his extraordinary face. He has a forehead that borders on the hydrocephalic, set off by eyebrows that belong to a fashion model twice his size, all narrowing down to a ridiculously pointed little chin. I haven't done justice to the eyes, which are large, clouded grey-green affairs that bulge out over the most hollow cheeks I've ever seen. The black ink has made him look a bit more affable and attractive than he really is, with a fuller goatee and thicker hair. In truth his hair is a light mousy brown, almost feathery.

And you see where the text in the picture trails past the margin? That's the flaw that sets off the perfection of the whole. That's what makes it art, sucka.

Sucka.

Here's something I drew one night at the bar. A table of RCMP cadets shaking off their aggression with Guinness. Yeah, that'll work. And don't draw drunk.

7 comments:

Mother Bumper said...

you can draw - that is cool

I'll keep an eye out for the barista but if I get the wrong rude one that is spreading disease I think I'll still be doing us all a favour (this coming from a former barista who would never cough into a patrons drink - at least not in front of them).

Grand Tuma said...

You may be interested to know that when I checked my "Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day" podcast, Tuesday's word was "Palinode". And I'm keeping the definition to myself.

My Head Is Too Big said...

I could get lit and go chunder all over him if you'd like...

schmutzie said...

Did someone mention chundering? It's been so long since I've witnessed a good chundering.

palinode said...

I was buying bread from a man in Brussels - he was six foot four and full of muscles. I said, "Do you speak-a my language? He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich. And he said: I come from a land down under, where beer does flow and men chunder. Cant you hear, cant you hear the thunder? You better run, you better take cover. And I said, Thunder in a patisserie? Give me my fucking bread, you lunatic.

Bigfoot said...

Was it the Second Cup in the mall? Because I'm currently drinking a cup of coffee from the Second Cup in the mall. Gross. Speaking of which, we should get together for a coffee sometime soon instead of trying to have a conversation while passing in parallel escalators.

Karen said...

Chunder. What a great word. I'm keeping it. Not that I'll require it often, but still.