Coffee Log, Day 154

Hi.

Coffee: India Extra Bold Roast, Cafe Crema

I’ve been eating raw tempeh for a week. I thought that was okay, but apparently it’s dangerous. In Japan, I ate eggs fresh-cracked and uncooked pig intestine from a shady bar. What’s ‘dangerous?’ Yesterday, I read an article about parental hand-holding shaping an entire generation to be anxious and depressed. Today, I went ahead and cooked the tempeh.

They just found liquid water on mars, or at least the probably did. It’s buried a mile deep near one of the ice-caps and they can’t figure how it hasn’t frozen. They also found a petrified piece of bread from 14,000 years ago in Jordan. It revised some logic, complex cooking must have come first, farming after. Apparently, the Epipaleolithic chefs seasoned the bread with mustard seeds. Beetle-eyed conspiracy theorists are revising their Martian narratives: the ships came quicker, and they taught prehistoric man dope recipes.

A restaurant in an airport doing high-volume; beef bowls; pickled ginger; gray plastic bowls to prop your cracked egg.

Currently Reading: LaRose, Louise Erdrich

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“If there is a hard, high wall and an egg that breaks against it, no matter how right the wall or how wrong the egg, I will stand on the side of the egg. Why? Because each of us is an egg, a unique soul enclosed in a fragile egg. Each of us is confronting a high wall. The high wall is the system which forces us to do the things we would not ordinarily see fit to do as individuals.” – Haruki Murakami

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Coffee Log, Day 143

Hi.

Coffee: Americano from Cafe Crema; it was more bitter than I was expecting; a lot like adulthood, grow some stiff hair in the right places and all that.

Today was for errands. So of course I got up late and took an hour long shower. It was good, the water relaxed me. Sometimes you can only feel calm by putting things off.

But I got to the errands eventually. I did a rush of dishes. I went to Cafe Crema and got a brand new bag of beans (you’ll hear my thoughts on them tomorrow). I bought tofu. Last week, I got the closest to a good stab at crisp gold on the edges, soft enough in the middle. I want practice so I’ll be frying a big pan of bean curd tomorrow. The tofu’s best at H-Mart so I bought it there.

On the way out the door, sunglasses on, a good breeze, feeling like a million, I heard something chasing me. My hair got stiff and I was too frozen to turn around. There were old bones cracking; slobbering teeth. The sound came closer and closer. Though the shopping center was crowded, I was frozen alone. And then it had me – two long fingers tap-tapping my shoulder. This was it; I was done; a long good life, but now the peripheral ghosts had surely got me.

When I finally turned, it was a cheery Korean girl tapping my shoulder. She was dressed like Sunday and smelled like cinnamon. Her smile was two doors wide. Panting – she’d been chasing me down – the girl says “Oh, I’m sorry to trouble you!”

“No trouble,” I say.

“Good. Well, I’m from Cary’s Korean Church. Do you have a church you go to?”

I told her I didn’t. The parking lot was full of cars and their windshields cut halos all around her. It was ghastly, but in a magical kind of way.

“Well, we’d love to have you!” She pushed a pamphlet in my hands and scampered off. I set the pamphlet on top of the tofu, where it quickly cooled down and caught the perspiration.

Later, on my nightly walk, I saw a kitchen window lined with three bottles of wine and a vased sunflower. The flower made me think of the Korean girl.

Currently Reading: LaRose, Louise Erdrich

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“I was tryna get the devil out of my charms.” – Young Thug, Safe

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