Coffee Log, Day 321

Hi.

Coffee: Maxwell House Drip, Office Coffee; I brewed a big pot, drank half; tasted like the sand you lay in a kid’s playground.

When I was a kid, my favorite color was purple. I had this purple turtleneck that I wore all the time in elementary. Then I got to middle school and some kids made fun of me for it. They told me it was a girly color. Not much of an insult in the grand scheme of things – ‘girly’ is a badge of pride for a lot of people, and should be – but it got to eleven-year-old-me. I stopped wearing purple. From then on, gray was my favorite color.

It’s impossible not to care what other people think. Or, rather, you can stop caring, but you lose a bit of yourself in the process. Shut off. Like pulling the blinds down.

I made this joke at work because I drink black coffee – I said ‘I like it like my soul: dark and empty.’ I wonder what I would have said if purple was still my favorite color?

It was pretty today. A punch-bowl sunrise.

Novel Count: 12,296

Currently Reading: Killing Commendatore, Haruki Murakami

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He told her the flowers in her painting contained exactly the purple substance of the flowers on the desk in front of her […] Let us open the window and see if your painting can entice the butterflies.

Sarah Hall, How to Paint a Dead Man


4 thoughts on “Coffee Log, Day 321”

  1. I just left a probably overly-long, heartfelt comment here that doesn’t appear to have appeared due to my switch to a new computer that did not have me logged in to word press and passwords…etc, etc. modern technology smarter than me, etc.

    Gray has been my fav color for years. But if I need an actual color? Almost always: purple.
    When I drink tea: Earl Grey.
    I play the ‘cello – barely/badly
    I write fiction.
    The thoughts you jot down here often get me waving the “dude, same!” flag.
    Could we be friends IRL?
    Who knows?
    Isn’t that the heart of what connects and alienates in modern technology? We’re all dislocated ligaments.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ‘Dislocated ligaments’ – I like that a lot. Tense, sad, longing, a little brutal.

      Being a ‘writer’ (or trying to be, anyway) is isolating, as I’m sure you know. Just today, I was talking to a coworker and they asked what I do after work. I told them I’m writing. They asked me ‘what about’ and then what else I did. I said: “Nope, pretty much just writing.”

      Which leads me to: I’m glad the internet connected us. It’s a warm thing to know there’s somebody out there you can tick all those ‘Hey, that’s like me!’ boxes to.

      If you’re ever in NC, let me know and I’ll invite you to the best coffee shop I can think of that day. I’m a coffee professional, after all : p

      Liked by 1 person

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