Ennui Land
Once upon a time, there was a land called Ennui. It was a place. It was a state of mind. It was a stage for all those who wished to display their drama, power, falling in and out of various dimensions, and speechifying over a cup of mediocre coffee. It was at the vortex of Lunt and Sheridan and I lived a part of my life there for nearly 16 years. It was just a place to go have coffee in the beginning. I was working at the local tofu hut and discovered that this place had a beverage called an iced mochaccino.
It was where I first met Leona who became my boss and also a long-time neighbor in Rogers Park. I was wearing a black shirt with alligators embroidered on it. I walked up to the counter and Leona grabbed a toy alligator and pointed it at my shirt. “Gra-rah-rah!”, she said. It took me a moment to realize that her alligator was saying hello to my alligators and I began a relationship with Ennui Cafe. I left the tofu hut shortly thereafter and started working at Ennui part-time.
It was a revelation to meet those who considered themselves the intelligentsia of Roger sPark or the RP as I came to call it. I was hoping that all of my coworkers would be as cool as Leona. It was not a shock -more of an annoyance to find that some of them were connected to a former university dean and deeply into Continental Philosophy. I knew about Nietzche, Kierkegaard, Sarte and all the other dour men. That shit gave me a headache as does most elitist navel-gazing. I am a Chicago girl and from a family of union people. If it didn’t make money, feed you, and literally cover your ass - who cares! In my mind, it was definitely a White people thing. Who else had the money or time for beingness and nothingness?
One of my coworkers was named Betts- short for Elizabeth- as she had been anointed as Betts by the leader Ricard like what rhymes with retard. He was quite handsome in a Robert Plant kind of way with Botticelli curls and a swaggering gait. His approach to the counter for his daily cup of coffee -the only one that he paid for, was stiff and courtly with a little bow. He always wore his shirt open to the navel. The handsome thing wore off the minute he opened his mouth. “Perhaps you would like to join us for a party. There will be food and dancing to Odette!” What the… Odette- dancing? I declined but eventually did accept an invitation out of curiosity. More on that surreal shit later.
Betts was a condescending sort who never did her side work. She served coffee to have worldly conversations with the Ricard people. She always had a book to read while sitting on the stairs to the coatroom also known as the cubbyhole. I was always washing the dishes, wiping tables, and keeping things in order. It is called work. One day, she left with Ricard and his posse of the bored and beautiful intellectuals and did not wash the dishes. That bitch left me with a bus tub full of their detritus. I told Leona the next morning that I did not want to work with Betts anymore. Apparently, Betts got herself a new asshole torn and was peeved with me. Ah! One less fuck to give.
“You know Kathy, we work things out among ourselves and don’t go running to Leona to tell on each other”, she sniped. I replied, “There was no we. All of you jerks left me with the side work. Fuck that and you if you think you get to do it again”, I retorted. Well, that placed me firmly in the plebeian camp as far she and the Ricard people were concerned. For many years I enjoyed tossing smarty pants stuff at them proving that they were definitely not my intellectual superiors. Unfortunately, it made Ricard even more determined to get inside my head. I guess that he had not met an intelligent one- meaning Negro. The fun was just beginning.
