"What are you working on?" said the woman sitting next to me at the window counter. It was Claudia, one of the regulars at Luna Caffe'.
"My blog," I said.
"You've got a blog?"
"Sure, everyone's got a blog."
"I don't," she said.
"Well, you should start one,” I said, “and get a cat if you don't have one. Cats make blogging easier--they make everything easier. Come to think of it," I said, "you should get two cats. You need a makeover anyway."
A concerned wrinkle furrowed her brow. She looked down at her shoes. She shot her sleeves. She smoothed the front of her jeans. Then she stroked her hair and glanced about the room.
I immediately realized I’d blundered in my choice of words. I didn't want to be rude. After all, she’s a regular here, like me, which makes us practically members of the same social club.
"I meant to say do-ver, not makeover. You would benefit from a change in your life,” I said. “That's why I recommend two cats."
I thought that would smooth things over, but the atmosphere remained strained, calling for a change of subject matter.
"I have a blog," I said, “and it has changed my life in so many ways. In fact, I'm thinking of becoming an influencer. Many bloggers are, you know."
"How do you become an influencer?" she asked after finally settling in at the window.
"I don't know," I said, "but there are people on YouTube explaining how to do all sorts of things. And if anyone can influence the hell out of stuff, it's me. I'm a natural influencer."
"No doubt," she said but her words didn't have zing.
"Can I help you," said a voice from behind me.
"Maybe," I said.
"I was talking to her," said Bijou, the master barista and the artist who painted the Caffe's murals. She's a true artist, which you can confirm from the image attached to this post.
Claudia took Bijou's appearance to shake her head and walk away into the throng of customers. A lost gazelle, I thought.
"What's your blog about," asked Bijou.
"My daily life," I said. "My blog is about my daily life," I repeated the daily life part in case she'd forgotten what we were talking about or had misunderstood my meaning the first time I said it.
"Oh, like a memoir?" she said. Damn! I thought. I was so careful to be understood and still missed the mark.
"Not a memoir," I said. "I write about my everyday life; the people I meet, the conversations we have--stuff like that."
"No way!" she said. "You can write a blog about everyday stuff? That's like Seinfeld! A blog about nothing."
Nothing? I thought. Really! Does she think my life amounts to nothing? I'll have to check with Kierkegaard and Nietzsche to see what they say. Better yet, I'll defer to Sabine Hossenfelder--she wrote a book about existential physics.
"I write about the barely tolerable loonies I meet," I said. "I exaggerate the absurdities in my social interactions to make them funny." My unspoken words were, I’ll make her think nothing!
Her ears perked up at hearing some of the nitty-gritty of The Circular Journey, and I began to warm up to the subject even more.
"For example," I said. "The general public strikes me as those who have bust-ups with their families and run away to places like California or New York to recover. Human beings can be so disappointing."
"Disappointing, for sure," she said, "but I guess that's why God made hair extensions and purple hair dye--sometimes the only option is to compensate."
"But no matter the extent or degree of the nonsense," I said. "I always close each post by distributing happy endings all around. Always spread goodness and light, is my motto.”
"Dope!" she said, and I would have been offended if not for the upbeat way she said it.
"I want to write a blog," she announced, and her words instantly lifted my mood to one of silly joy.
"What's your blog called?" she said. "I want to read it to see how you do it."
And just like that, I became an influencer. I never thought it could be so easy. It's another example of what I always say, “In the course of life, you just never know!"