Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 209


Coffee: Americano, Caribou Coffee; I walked to the clubhouse to use the free machine this morning but it was out of filters; so I walked back to my apartment with an empty thermos, ate a quick lunch at the dining room table, then drove a couple minutes to the closest Caribou; the weather was late-summer fireworks and the sun made pin-head incisions in my skin; open window, laid out arm; the guy in the drive-through had puberty on his cheeks; his voice cracked when he handed me the coffee; oh, it’s flavor? like a walnut, but one you’ve left sitting one day too long in backyard soil

A friend came over to bake a focaccia in our oven. He got here at 5pm, left the bread outside to rise, then sprinkled it with salt and oil before loading it in the oven. As it baked, we caught up. The sun got in our eyes so we moved to the living room. Later, while the bread was cooling, we went out to buy cucumbers and tomatoes to make fresh sandwiches.

It was a nice day. Lazy in the best sort of way. No-one needing anything that wasn’t right here.

At 10pm, our friend left, I spent some time cleaning. I brushed all the breadcrumbs in the trashcan. I washed the cutting board clean of cucumber juice. The kitchen’s sleeping like it’s been on a pilgrimage. It’s motionless, peaceful, waiting for the next time it’s put to use.

Currently Reading: Queen, Suzanne Crain Miller (life hasn’t had much time for reading lately, but I’m almost to the end; more thoughts soon)

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

To be sensual, I think, is to respect and rejoice in the force of life, of life itself, and to be present in all that one does, from the effort of loving to the breaking of bread. It will be a great day for America, incidentally, when we begin to eat bread again, instead of the blasphemous and tasteless foam rubber that we have substituted for it. And I am not being frivolous here, either.

James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time

Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 127


Coffee: Pike Place Drip, Apartment Office Coffee; there wasn’t anyone in the office lounge when I went to fill my thermos; air-conditioned cold, like holding two bags of frozen peas to your cheeks; I punched the order on the auto and listened to it drip; after the first pull, I poured a bit down the drain and punched another; brimming, here was my communal coffee, provided by the bills I pay each month, offered in the hopes I’ll meet new people and form long-lasting friendships, so that I’ll always want to stay; but there wasn’t anyone in the office lounge so I had black coffee served naked with a hint of rumination, spiced like mulled wine

I watched Sally the cat stalk a turtle. It’s her last week her before her owners move. The turtle was a boxcar, a big boy, good at tucking his feet so you might think he was more stone, less animal. I wasn’t tricked, and Sally wasn’t either.

She circled him close to the ground, creeping so low her big belly was brushing dust off the sidewalk. She made a few passes before she narrowed in. Finally, She got the courage to go where his head was poking, put her nose no further than a foot from it, but the turtle was thinking quicker and he jerked the rest of the way into his shell. This scared her so she came trotting to me. We sat in the grass watching the turtle walk cautious across the sidewalk. The sun was out. Later, it would be sweltering.

A calm, easy Sunday.

Currently Reading: Queen, Suzanne Crain Miller

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

When we were little,” the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, though still sobbing a little now and then, “we went to school in the sea. The master was an old Turtle – we used to call him Tortoise -“

“Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn’t one?” Alice asked.

“We called him Tortoise because he taught us,” said the Mock Turtle angrily: “really you are very dull!

Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland