Coffee: Maxwell House Master Blend, Office Coffee
The day slipped away from me like two snakes slithering through tall grass. I read a little Baldwin, in the morning, just enough to get my lips wet. Smacking ’em, wanting a taste. I went out and it was white fog so far you couldn’t see. I cleaned the fog off my car and it came right back. There was the engine, and there went the day.
Monday doldrums with a Tuesday kind of smile, the ‘having-been-here-too-long-already’ scrunches while you tell yourself you’re already almost home. I fly out to Atlanta Thursday, I have the day off. I took it off before I knew I was flying out to Atlanta. The 12th of December is my birthday. My 30th this year.
There was this girl in my senior writing class who wrote better than me and I was jealous of her for it. So I worked real hard at my editing and got good enough to win some awards, ones I don’t know if she even knew about, or cared about, or if she did, cared to win. She wrote prose with good characters and a nice flow. She had thick braids and glasses. I don’t remember her name so I can’t check if she’s published. I don’t know if it matters whether or not she’s published. I guess she’ll be turning 30 too.
Currently Reading: Another Country, James Baldwin
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The Dirty Thirties are knockingSahndra Fon Dufe
in a French accent-