My kind of day

Another deliciously gray day in a string of three. The kind that can only be classified as "indie" because, by most standards, it defies categorical classification. Slight breeze, jacket optional, frequent drizzle. All in all, the kind of day in which you're permitted to maintain a typical facial expression (No Smile) without attracting attempts at cheer from passersby.

The kind of day you spend buying a super kitsch retro lamp which will ultimately serve as subject matter for many a photograph. Or learning about the history of photography from the 4th century on and cutting your roommate's hair because you've acquired a multitude of semi-talents including cosmotology, belittling bookstore employees when they assume Evelyn Waugh is female, and advanced roman numeral mathematics, all the while excelling at nothing of importance. Still unemployed.

The kind of day when coffee should be on tap and your scarf should be as ostentatious as humanly possible. James Brown should be played at top volume and the foosball table moved outdoors, preferably close to a busy intersection.