Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 248


Coffee: Cafe Pajaro Extra Dark, Trader Joe’s

I remember when I had a flip phone. Life was less accessible. No maps, no email. But I’m not saying anything new.

A lot of my time is digital. I liken it to playing solitaire at a French cafe. The cards are replaced by the keyboard and the ambient conversations are twitter feeds, but both have coffee and stiff chairs. Matching up moments, looking for aces.

In Another Country, Baldwin talks about how everyone’s caught the shadow of this French Cathedral. The entire town walks with it, watchful, schoolmaster, never alone. It was striking writing and it resonated. But then I started thinking about my own monoliths and I couldn’t come up with one. Cary has an ordinance that prevents building skyscrapers, or putting up billboards. The only tall shadows are the natural down of pine trees. So, living in this low world, I don’t go out much, and if I do the trip takes me father than home, a tourist. Nothing fixes us to that shared center, all our monoliths are our own.

I’m listening to lofi while I write this. There’s 300 other people in the Youtube channel. But I don’t see them and they don’t see me, and I could close this window at any time. Sometimes, I just wish someone would touch me, like bread breaking; French cafe.

Currently Reading: Another Country, James Baldwin

Support Relief for Family Suffering at the Border  – RAICES DONATION CAMPAIGN

Patience’s design flaw became obvious for the first time in my life: the outcome is decided not during the course of play but when the cards are shuffled, before the game even begins. How pointless is that?

David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 184


Coffee:  Maxwell House Master Blend, Office Coffee

Five minutes into trying to fix the phone the screen goes black. My customer restarts it. We get a little further and it goes black again.

“I’m going to be your problem today,” she says.

With effort (and a call to IT) I help her fix her digital banking.

Later, I was chopping mushrooms. I was afraid I might cut myself. I hadn’t used the knife since a month ago when I cut my thumb. I quartered the mushrooms. It was easy. Then I pan-fried them on medium-high with a bunch of onions. No problems.

At 7:30, I cut all the lights off and lay down with my laptop. My curtains were open and it was twilight. I could hear kids playing. My room smelled like laundry detergent (they vent the building outside my door). I tried writing. The only thing that came to me was the feeling of turning on and off a phone. I closed the laptop and listened to the kids. It got steadily darker in my room.

Currently Reading: Queen, Suzanne Crain Miller

Support Relief for Family Suffering at the Border  – RAICES DONATION CAMPAIGN

The major problem of life is learning how to handle the costly interruptions. The door that slams shut, the plan that got sidetracked, the marriage that failed. Or that lovely poem that didn’t get written because someone knocked on the door.

Martin Luther King Jr.