Coffee Log, Day 321


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