Coffee Log, Day 202

Hi.

Coffee: Sumatra Medium-Dark Roast, Trader Joe’s

I don’t know how bad the storm will be. Friday will tell me; the coast will know tonight.

I called my dad this morning. Right now, my parent’s house is projected to get it worse than me. As long as I’ve known them, my parents are prone to worry too little about the big things and too much about everything else. That swung my pendulum the other way, so now I’m a little too worried for them. Their arms and legs aren’t as strong as they used to be. That said, as long as I’ve known them, my parents have never been ones to underestimate.

Today’s sky was six-year-old blue: she has the pick of 64 crayons but settles for one color. It didn’t belie the turbulent weather; it was good cover to walk under. I watched white clouds idle. Mr. Cobwebs was chasing geese. I had to take off work today, woke up sick and tired from a night of bad dreams. Hazy, every needle in the pine trees seemed to be some other lonely raft floating away.

Once, many years ago, my apartment was robbed. They took everything, even cracked the door as a temptation for our two cats to escape. That evening, I threw up. We were staying at my partner’s family house. She helped me clean up the mess. It was such a kind, wonderful moment. Still, it had me certain that when the bandits broke our window on a hot August afternoon, they’d bagged up our future together with the TV’s and computers.

That is to say: I’m not scared of loss anymore.

I got some more water, some more bread, it’s just me and R in the apartment. I printed out some DnD campaigns, think I’ll run one if the power goes. When the sky’s dark and the ocean’s coming down on top of you, might as well enjoy the time.

Currently Reading: Autumn, Ali Smith

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“Talkin’ to myself my homies call me crazy
Livin’ by myself my mama say I’m lonely
Sleepin’ by myself my bitches think I’m lyin’
Listening to myself cause I’m my favorite artist
Depending on myself, the people call me mighty
Defending more than self, the people call me hero
I’m good within myself, the people say I’m humble
And I’m protecting myself trying to stay away from evil.” – Lil Wayne, Third Strike

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Coffee Log, Day 82

Hi.

Coffee: Organic Honduran, Trader Joe’s brand

An errant day – oops, sorry, I meant ‘errand’ day… Pun?

My first experience today was laundry and dishes. I lugged the laundry, soaked the dishes. I spent an empty couple hours showering, thinking, then I went to buy groceries. The clerk was cheery and cracked jokes about the weather. I’ll never trust a man (or woman) who doesn’t like talking about the weather. It’s code for so much more.

I’ve been brainstorming recently, trying to figure out what’s next to write. I don’t want to be one of those writer’s holed up on his pie-in-the sky. I got some great feedback from a friend and then other feedback from the DnD campaign I ran at Landon’s bachelor’s party. People seemed to dig the game. A month ago, I talked to a big guy with a bald head who wrote raw Southern poetry and he said he got started with his writing by being a DM. Captive audience – you see what works, what doesn’t.

Still, I’m no fantasy writer. I spent the rest of the day talking to family, calling my mother (it is Mother’s Day, after all), drinking peat-brown beer, and prepping dinners for the week. Life feels inscrutable. I guess there’s nothing wrong with a day of productive rest.

Currently Reading:
Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

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“…to hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, [and] criticise after dinner…” – Karl Marx
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