Coffee: Cafe Pajaro Extra Dark Roast; I poured it in a new travel ceramic for work. The mug didn’t work too well but I like the way it looks. It was made by machines, but looks like it was made by hands.
First off, some house-keeping: I’ll be announcing the winner of the April/May contest this week! Life happened fast these past two months so I wasn’t able to promote the contest as much as I would’ve liked. Because of that, I’m putting contests on a hiatus while I catch up. I’ll do better in the future.
Now, onto the Log:
I talked shop with a geneticist outside a cafe. He told me his best friend was a writer. He told me his best friend makes no money but publishes anyway. I told him the guy sounds crazy. He told me the guy’s real happy. We talked a bit about labwork, the dullness of it, then he talked about the the way’s he’s compiling the human genome electronically. Computers talk like your high school English teacher: big words, clauses, Latin to me.
Speaking of language, I’m obsessed with it. There isn’t a better word. Probably a better phrase: dim-witted fishhook in a constant stream. But anyway, language is my obsession. When I was four, I wouldn’t let my parents put me to bed until they’d answered a few questions. The content wasn’t what I was after, but rather how they would say it: what’s two plus two? Four…door’s brother and dour’s close cousin. A lot of people call me Garrett and I think that’s fine, but deep down I’m obsessed with the ‘h.’
I spent some time trying to talk it out. We could be something, yeah? We could have something, yeah? Parrots for each other’s happy. But we just talked beside each other. Not past, because the words were hanging close to both of us, a finger, thread, half-done zipper. Then our conversation tied its shoes and walked off. I doubt I’ll hear from you again.
Do any two people speak the same language?
Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The Way of Kings, Brandon Sanderson
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“The past is always tense, the future perfect.” – Zadie Smith