Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 229


Coffee:  Americano, Caribou Coffee

I’m lying on the floor. I’ve been sitting or standing all day. It’s my bedroom, so it’s carpet. I wouldn’t call it shag, but it’s not fine either. It’s plastic, brown, and this is the first time I’m thinking so hard about it, but how did it all get here? How is there so much of this stuff in the world? Count the number of apartments you pass each week on your fingers; divide that number in half so we’re being generous (some places prefer tile floors), and I bet you’ll fun out of fingers. At least if you live in a city. At least if you’re keyed in to our bright and golden future.

I watched a couple movies. Got half an hour into The Quiet Place, it was too quiet. Finished Sorry to Bother You, it was strange. It’s been a while since I’ve watched a movie. A friend kept me company over the phone. But what else are you supposed to do when it’s raining but watch movies? Oh, did I mention it was raining all day? We needed it. The creek’s been barren for a month now.

I heard church bells driving with the windows down at eight am. Bled from the steeple, windchimes. A congregation praying for shag carpets. A luxurious life. Bu I don’t want to think about that anymore, so a few more movies then bedtime for me.

Currently Reading: Queen, Suzanne Crain Miller

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I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another.

Vladimir Nabokov

Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 76


Coffee: Maxwell House Drip, Office Coffee

We went to see a movie at the Alamo Drafthouse. It’s one of those theaters that serves food with the movie and has a full bar. It was in an out of the way strip mall in Raleigh. They had big bay doors in front that were open like a welcome summer. It reminded me of some time when people used to go to movies, when getting out of the house was an event, and when the act of being out somewhere was a part of the joy, not just the transmission of light and sound coming out of the screen.

So much of life is your environment. You pick people and activities to fill your daily spaces but it’s the spaces themselves you’re most intimate with. Tomorrow you might lose your job. Wednesday that woman you were dating will move away. All the things you involve yourself with change by the months or hours, but that same bleak road that snakes out of your subdivision hasn’t changed.

I spent fifteen dollars on a drink. It was bourbon and sours, it was okay. From the glass rim, I watched waiters taking orders before the movie’s start and people scuttling to get to their seats. I saw the plush red backs of well-worn chairs, popcorn stomped into the carpet, and plastic lights on the walls that had ambitions to be chandeliers. This was a space where events took place, not just the day to day. Reverent like Christian Sunday; eager like couch conversations at a crowded party.

Currently Reading: Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain

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Give them pleasure. The same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare.

Alfred Hitchcock