I used to enjoy going to the hipsteriest hipster joints in town. They make coffee nice and strong, they usually have a nice interior, and you can see or sometimes even meet beautiful, thin, angular raggamuffinsupermodels. You can learn all about the album they are making, or the novel they are writing. I could speak that language. And I liked what I saw. And I was, let us say, lonely.

But that got tired. The novel never gets written for all the talking. And the album sounds like all the other albums. It is the The Hipster Album. Hipsterstan, you see, is a country that all the people who wish to squander their beauty and talent move to. And the only rule is You Must Not Try Very Hard.

So where is my favourite place to grab a cup of coffee now? By far, right here. At home where I can capitalize on it's effect on the brain, and get right to work. It is the fuel of my two creative projects, which are of course the Great Canadian Novel, and the Album That's Different. Excuse me, my retro stove-top espresso maker is calling