Coffee: Americano, Caribou Coffee
I’m lying on the floor. I’ve been sitting or standing all day. It’s my bedroom, so it’s carpet. I wouldn’t call it shag, but it’s not fine either. It’s plastic, brown, and this is the first time I’m thinking so hard about it, but how did it all get here? How is there so much of this stuff in the world? Count the number of apartments you pass each week on your fingers; divide that number in half so we’re being generous (some places prefer tile floors), and I bet you’ll fun out of fingers. At least if you live in a city. At least if you’re keyed in to our bright and golden future.
I watched a couple movies. Got half an hour into The Quiet Place, it was too quiet. Finished Sorry to Bother You, it was strange. It’s been a while since I’ve watched a movie. A friend kept me company over the phone. But what else are you supposed to do when it’s raining but watch movies? Oh, did I mention it was raining all day? We needed it. The creek’s been barren for a month now.
I heard church bells driving with the windows down at eight am. Bled from the steeple, windchimes. A congregation praying for shag carpets. A luxurious life. Bu I don’t want to think about that anymore, so a few more movies then bedtime for me.
Currently Reading: Queen, Suzanne Crain Miller
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I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another.Vladimir Nabokov