"This is Calcutta. Bohemia is dead."

I decided to take veteran's day off to spend it with Steven. We forced ourselves to get out of the house, and away from the homework, housework and endless distractions that keep us from focusing on the most important part of our lives: each other. We spent a couple of hours walking around our local art museum, giving insights into our interpretations of each piece, including the sad realization that most of the male nude sculptures had their penises broken off. This was more than a little disturbing to Steven and mildly disappointing to me. Its funny how interesting it can be to view a nude form with your significant other. We both found a barely draped woman with a rather ample bottom, and shockingly perfect breasts to be the subject of our admiration for the better part of ten minutes. Ah, to be an alabaster sculpture, without dimple, wrinkle or flaw, perfectly preserved for all time...in true writer form, I digress.

Afterwards, we drove over to a local restaurant for a little bit of lunch. We sat in the back lounge, eating and drinking for hours, just talking and talking and talking. It was relaxing, wonderful, and badly needed. The restaurant had a sister coffee shop just next door. Our server informed us that they served a Turkish tea that we should try. Both die-heard caffeine addicts, we headed over after lunch and ordered up two tiny cups.

The tea was pretty good, however, the tea is not the point. When we sat down to enjoy our beverage, we started to take stock of our surroundings. Nothing matched. The artwork was a mishmash of random paintings, pictures and sculptures of no particular theme. The chairs and couches seemed to be plucked from a few random, dated living rooms, and the music was definitely not anything you'd find on the top 40 list...thank god. What struck me as refreshingly peculiar was the blatant lack of commercialism. It was a true coffee house...cozy, comfortable, and eclectic. It was all of the things that Starbucks had aspired to be before they reached the ultra-globalized-corporate status that they enjoy now.

Where I grew up, coffee houses were for outsiders. Nerds, goths, vegans, lesbians, artists, musicians, and the like, could all find solace and inspiration in a local haunt they could call their own. They weren't for elitist, organic, soccer moms with jogging strollers, anti-bacterial wipes, and gas-guzzling SUVs, and they certainly didn't have drive throughs.Your coffee was served in mismatched mugs instead of logo'd paper cups, and if you ordered a quad, venti, half-caf, no-whip, two Splendas, stirred latte, you'd be shown the door. I'm sorry, but when my coffee cup becomes a fashion accessory, it's time to rethink my beverage.

Let's recap...
Has Starbucks lost their way, forgotten their roots and turned into just another corporate circus? Definitely.
Does Starbucks still serve up a damn good product? 
Yes....(sigh)
Am I a raving hypocrite for continuing to darken their door? 
It's called an addiction.

La vie boheme my darlings.