Coffee: Cafe Pajaro Extra Dark Roast, Trader Joe’s brand
The last time I was there, Bond Lake was frozen. Thin ice – so thin it looked like tissue paper – but ice all the same.
Today was different. The greens were greenest and the sun bled us all sweat-dry. It wasn’t pretty. Well, in the shady places it was. A few dogs were barking across banks. Some ducks swam through.
In the deepest stretch of forest, I heard something cut a path over dead leaves. I thought it might be a squirrel. Then I thought it might be a snake. I’ve seen a lot of snakes in the triangle. Most often, I see them on the verge of losing something. People, places, what have you. I thought hard about what I might lose today. I didn’t see the snake, so maybe I’ve got some time to prepare. Hopefully, whatever goes will fall off like birch bark. It’s not always a bad thing to lose.
Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The Way of Kings, Brandon Sanderson
“I am working on a new book about a boa constrictor and a litter of hyenas. The boa constrictor swallows the babies one by one, and the mother hyena dies laughing.” – E.B. White
Coffee: House Espresso from Java Jive, Cary; purchased with a tip from Andrew. Most Espresso falls into two categories – burnt, dirty, something to shoot in a latte and forget about, bottom-shelf vodka; or, overly ripe and sour. Java Jive’s doesn’t speak to either. It’s warm and dark. It’s comfortable. The light in your driveway after a long day at work. Thanks for the coffee, Andrew.
I used to date a girl from Cary. She grew up here, went to school here and as far as I know her father still haunts the southern suburbs. I was frantically in love with her and followed where she pointed. Java Jive was her favorite cafe growing up. We used to buy Thai Iced coffees there.
I remember one afternoon when my ex had some business to take care of and I didn’t have a car. She dropped me off at Java Jive and I sat in the courtyard of the brick strip mall trying to write. I was working on what I hoped would be a novel. The sun was out. It was hot. I had trouble finding shade and lawn bugs kept nagging me. I wrote a chapter and gave up. A few months later, I gave up on the novel.
This week, I’ve been having lots of writer’s block. It’s frustrating. Walking the grounds of Java Jive, I saw the scraps of pulled-teeth ideas sleeping in the bushes. They were mangy old dogs but sitting pretty comfortably. It was nice to remember them. I drove home.
Tar Baby, Toni Morrison
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“The fresh smell of coffee soon wafted through the apartment, the smell that separates night from day.” – Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage