Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 9

Hi.

Coffee: Sumatra Medium Dark, Trader Joe’s Brand

I got your letter at 9:00 a.m. on a blustery Saturday. It was the fourth thing in the mailbox, buried under ads. I took the blue envelope upstairs to the dining room and set it on the table. Then I went about making coffee – grinding beans, pouring water, loading the machine.

I tried to be careful peeling it open. There’s a certain sound an envelope makes. It’s sort of like a rack of ribs that you’ve been slow cooking. Pull, pull, pull, feel it give, a bit sticks to the bone.

When I got the letter out, I read it two times and put it aside. I set myself to reading Murakami and working on my novel. I ate a bowl cereal. I got full on black coffee. A casual morning. My favorite kind of morning.

At 11:00, I read your letter again. This time I paid close attention to the paper and the ink and the spots you wrote over. It’s funny how a thing feels so much different when it’s said in black ink. It’s funny how transient a conversation can be.

There was this French artist named Sophie Calle who found a man’s address book on the streets of Paris. After returning it anonymously (and making a copy), she went around interviewing all the different contacts to get a picture of the owner’s life. Sometimes it feels like that with you. I know you from pictures and old memories. I know you by the occasional letter, little bright fires that show off bits of us. But we’re constantly changing, as is everyone, so each little fire has a different viewpoint. Lit windows in a midnight building. Every night, a different pattern of lights is on.

Thank you for the letter, and for being a part of me and my life, however many miles and hours and identities you are away.

Novel Count: 28,637

Currently Reading: Killing Commendatore, Haruki Murakami

Support Relief for Family Suffering at the Border – RAICES DONATION CAMPAIGNFrom the land of red clay, and lottery worship

“The last time I saw him, I found he had aged prematurely. He had white hair…” What image does [Paul] have of him? “The image of a child forgotten in an airport.”

Sophie Calle, The Address Book


2 thoughts on “Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 9”

  1. “Little bright fires that show off bits of us.” Lovely.

    I’ve been re-reading Grace Paley short stories this week and it got me wondering if you’ve read her much yet. There’s something in your style here on the Coffee Log that reminds me of her fabulous, defamiliarizing (to employ an MFA darling-word) use of language and structure. If you haven’t picked up her collected stories yet, I think you might like them.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s a lovely recommendation! I haven’t run into her yet. My academic background isn’t English and my social circles are mostly not lit folks (with some exceptions) so I don’t often have the chance for recommendations. I’ll definitely check her out.

      Like

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