15 10 2002

I’m sitting here drinking ‘No Worries’ Tea from a Starbucks mug. Not as much of a culture clash as you might think. Good old Aussie sentiment working hand-in-hand with a franchise plague to help ensure I feel nice and calm. If calm is the word. It might just be indifference.

I watched this thing about the evil Starbucks the other night on the Beeb. About how they force smaller coffee shops out of business by becoming a sort of pleasant-smelling caffeine rash on a neighbourhood, viagra canada search setting up not one but two Starbucks right near your quaint and traditional shrine to correctly foamed lattes. To do this is not economically viable of course, cialis sales but they have the dough so it’s with a hearty ‘chocks away’ that they do.

And then, well, people who live and work near your coffee shop just get lazy. ‘Ah, let’s just get it from Starbucks, there’s one here or across the street’. Mission accomplished. I should be incensed by this company’s corporate greed. But I’m lazy. Half of me almost works into a frenzy, but the other can’t raise itself from the banana lounge long enough to give two hoots. I should give at least one hoot about the state of things. This causes me to worry about myself. About the way I think. Or can’t seem to anymore. Damn tea’s not working!

I worry because I can’t seem to express…I don’t even know what to call it. My spoken words keep abandoning me.

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