Going Nowhere

 Dated 30 July. Somewhere around 6pm onwards

"The clock moved a quarter of a turn/the time it took a cigarette to burn"

Ok, so I'm sitting in Costa Coffee (for the second time in the past 2 hours) having an Americano with 4 packets of sugar in it, listening to Foals and imagining what it'd be like if we just had an impromptu flash party in here (this fantasy usually takes place in the metro with Foals, feather boas, balloons, pole dancing and hostile/curious expressions turning into laughing, ecstatic, dancing ones). My hands are shaking uncontrollably, presumably trying to keep up with the bass and the caffeine coursing through my veins.
I have nowhere to go, 100 rupees (counting small change) in my wallet, a flower that used to be in my hair the last time I was sitting here is now wilting among grass and matchsticks in my bag.
I'm unsuccessfully stifling my smiles by pursing my lips, the waiters giving me highly amused looks.
I momentarily take the earphones off and hear the buzzing of the other customers and have an odd 'Scanner Darkly' type moment. I have this odd tendency to trip myself out at the most unexpected times. Not very articulate, I know, but that's the best word I can think of to describe it.
I'm taking up space that sane, paying customers could use, but I don't give a fuck because the Costa guys look kind of understanding and I come here all too often and sit alone like this, waiting for someone or just taking shelter when I have nowhere I'm supposed to be.
Between songs I notice that the crescendo of indiscernible chatter has grown louder, the dregs of my coffee have gotten cold, but I'm still leaving some of it so it appears like I have a reason for being here, other than what they might assume from my manic grin and glazed over expression.
My bookmark is a chit where I've drunkenly scribbled things my friends were saying -
"Kam nahi, rum piya karo"
"Noddy ka bhai hai woh, yaar"
Stifled smile again, I look down and fiddle with my necklace.
The only other absolute berozgar like me is leaving. He is wearing extremely snug jeans revealing a bubble butt that some men of the "other" kind might find rather attractive. He shoves his phone encased in a Burberry case into his back pocket, adjusts his pants to allow his overflowing potbelly to hang comfortably out and makes his way to the loo.
Woman in pretty green sari who was eying his seat returns from placing her order to find two college kids in her place. They are either going on, or returning from a trip. Tall, dark and skinny with the glasses looks dreamily at the bulbs overhead while his curvy companion returns with her cappuccino. Maybe they're going to the hills, Kasol even, like one of the last few times I was here.
I get a text and jump, right now I've become kind of comfortable in this state and don't feel like I'm losing my mind anymore. But then the song ends.
The barista approaches me with the same questionnaire I filled 2 (or was it 3?) hours ago, trying to give me something to do, or maybe a hint to GTFO.
"How likely are you to return to Costa?" In "who are you with" I put in both "by myself" and "with friends".
I need to pee but I'm afraid of vultures stealing my place. He takes the questionnaire and smiles/nods politely when I say I'm going to be here for a while longer and apologize. Now I'm listening to "Search and Destroy". I was listening to it in the auto in the morning and feeling invincible. I was just thinking earlier that there's no way I can truly explain how or what I feel for Iggy. All I can do is make someone listen to this song (even though I Wanna Be Your Dog is my favourite song in the whole world by a .5 margin) - either you get it, or you don't. It's like he jumps into your body and does his punk rock tandav inside you - "penetrate my mind" as he says.
The place appears to be clearing out slightly, my friends have decided to come and rescue me from my daura of coffee induced mania, Iggs is talking about Penetration, things appear to be looking up. I also realize that I'm not the only one whose been here for ages. I recognize another short haired girl in purple who was here when I was sitting here before my brief break from Costa. She's sitting with a bespectacled man, also in purple and a bearded firang in beige. But they appear to be productive members of society from the snatches of conversation I hear, perhaps of the NGO variety, I think they're talking about a project. The firang thanks them for talking to him, they laugh and joke and shake hands and he leaves. The girl, I've decided is cute. The profile of her face flows like a freehand 5 minute sketch, the nose is hooked slightly. She smiles generously at her friend while he pays the bills and they leave, leaving me as the only veteran in this place. I'm some tired cliche. Spaced out geek chick sitting in a cafe and writing. All I need now is a Mac. I already have an iPod. In order to be more of a cliche, I put on Catherine Wheel's I Want To Touch You (I don't know whether Catherine Wheel are very coffee house kid types, actually, maybe Belle and Sebastian or something would be more appropriate, but shoegazey, guitar driven, wall of sound type songs are more fitting to my personality) I DO NOT want to listen to Blue's "All Rise" which is playing in Costa right now.
I've been rescued from my coffee stupor by Dickoo and the Costa guys smile widely at me and a cop smiles at me lecherously and looks down my shirt for the 15th time.


(sorry for linking to a million songs, but it obviously gives more of a sense of what I'm trying to say if you listen to them)