Aging Rock Star

Aging Rock Star

I often watch him where he sits at the café. Always at the same table – the one in the corner by the window, where he can sit and watch the people passing by outside. He usually has his bag with him, the beige messenger bag made out of manchester fabric. Only on two occasions have I seen him without it, and then he seemed more or less anxious or disorganized. Guess he's one of those persons who carry their lives around on their shoulder. I'm one of them, too.

He always orders the same thing; café latte and a cinnamon bun. Never anything else, unless he's distressed for some reason. If he's forgotten his bag he tends to be distressed.

But today he's got his bag, his café latte and his cinnamon bun. He's sitting in his chair in the corner by the window, watching the people passing by outside. And I'm sitting by the counter on one of the tall chairs, also in a corner. Watching him, as always.

He's old, but not ancient, if you excuse me saying so. I'd say sixty something, but I've never been very good at appreciating age. His hair is white and quite thin, though I know it used to be brown, slightly thicker, a little more wavy... A bit longer too, though what he's got now would probably be considered as long. He's had a beard. Something that is still as brown as before are his eyes. Quite narrow, brown eyes he has. His nose is a bit pointy, and when he smiles his whole face lights up. He doesn't talk much, is more of the quiet type. Well, not that I've ever seen him in the café with company, but... He doesn't say much to the staff either. Just what he needs to say. Then he sits thinking, often with a piece of paper before him, occasionally scribbling something down.

He's a musician, although I don't know how much professional stuff he does today. Used to be in a big band. Think he got in some quarrel with one of the members, and was on and off before they finally broke up. They reunited last year though, very briefly. Now he seems content with just sitting here at the café, watching the people passing by outside.

I've never spoken to him. I don't know where he lives. I've considered following him when he leaves, but I've never done it. And I know it would be quite rude to do so. I'm not the stalking type. I'm just watching him at the café, watching the people passing by outside. I've never tried approaching him, even though I want to. I guess I'm too shy. But I am quite content with just being where he is, just knowing he's just like me, in a way. I doubt we'd have much to talk about on an other than celebrity-fan level. I don't know, since I've never tried to talk to him.

Maybe there would be no harm in trying. But it'll have to wait, for now. I'm satisfied with just sitting by the counter watching him, watching the people passing by outside.