2003-07-11 - 4:26 p.m.

i have spent a lot of time slagging on The Verb, and it deserves it. the cranky employees, the burnt-tasting coffee, the overpriced sandwiches, the jaded hipsters in uniform one has to wade through to reach the above; the cumulative annoyance was enough to keep me patronising the bagel store and even fabiane's for my caffeine needs. but recently i've changed my tune. a little.

The Verb is a coffee shop at the front of a mini-mall in the middle of the most high-traffic section of bedford avenue, the main drag of williamsburg. often imitated but never duplicated, The Verb is the epicenter of social life in the 'burg, and a microcosm of all that is right and wrong with the hippest neighborhood on the eastern seaboard. on the pro side, i often see many friends and acquaintances there, i'm almost certain to run into someone i know and like slumming in the back corner over a book or a laptop. they serve decent wine and even an amazing cheese plate (a wine shop and a cheese shop recently joined the minimall), both relative rarities in a neighborhood dominated by the brooklyn brewery and krystyna's pierogies and joe's busy corner. my favorite feature by far is the high-speed wireless network that's pretty inexpensive to piggyback on. when my loft is too hot, i take my laptop to the verb and update my auctions and chess games over an iced coffee.

what's not to like? the cacaphony of cellphone conversations is an irritant. call me west-coast, but i think its rude to carry on a long conversation in a close public place. many people, like myself, are using The Verb as a satellite office during weekdays, and its easy to eavesdrop on artists wrangling grants, trustfunders calling home, and budding writers trying to salvage bad relationships. the soundtrack is also a problem, its extremely hit-or-miss. today, i'm in a great mood because we are enjoying janet jackson's 'design of the decade'. but often denizens are subjected to tuneless art rock, warbling country, or loud punk rawk. a third problem is the hipsters in uniform. its not out of the question to walk into the verb on a weekday evening and see every single male in a trucker hat or fauxhawk, every grrl with punky color hair.

but today, f is joining me for the remnants of my cheeseplate while janet croons, and i'm grateful for The Verb in all its incarnations.