June 01, 2008

Meditation on a cup of perfect coffee

A long time ago I used to do a series of posts called Meditations; they were just free-roaming streams-of-consciousness things, but I did enjoy them. I have gotten so far from everyday writing; I think that using a daily writing tool will help me to re-lubricate the muscle and get back into a place where the ideas flow regularly. Like many blocked writers, I am haunted by the idea that there's nothing to write about. But we know that's not true, don't we?

Jamwall taught me how to make the perfect cup of coffee. He is so good at so many things. He is my hero. Anyhow, the coffee: It's easy; you just have to grind the beans right before brewing. He also has some sort of formula, which he was trying to tell me as I was putting on my makeup and he was using my computer to surf the internets ... it was all 24s and sixes and something about a scoop, but I stopped listening because I don't like measuring.

There is this ice cream truck that drives around the neighborhood playing its little ding-a-ling tunes, and today I swear it was playing Man of La Mancha. Who wants to eat ice cream when poor Don Quixote was so painfully thin?!?!? We should be buying him a cone!

I've discovered that the way to keep from mindlessly snacking in the evenings is to stay away from the TV and instead get involved in a project; so tonight I assembled this humongous steel shelving in my garage and organized all my garage crap onto it. I felt really productive and proud, instead of sleepy and lethargic, for a change. With summer coming I am kicking the motivated project-doing SG into high gear. I just realized that winter doldrums should be over, as it is indeed June.

At the
old-fashioned theater where I went to hear Dar Williams on Friday, there is an insufficient railing on the balcony. As I stood next to it I had the temptation to throw myself over it. Well, not the temptation so much, as the scary thought of what if? ...I were to just do that? I scare myself like that sometimes. It's not the first time.

I miss Monkey and the days when all of us met in Monkeyland and frolicked together, semi-nudely. Ahhh, alas ... nothing gold can stay. And nothing furry can stay. Which reminds me; I need to shave my legs.

There are these dry-erase markers at work that have gone bad; I think they have started to ferment. So I take a whiff, and I say, Ew! These reek! Then I sniff again, make a face, and sniff again. What is wrong with me?!?!?

That's about all I can do today. I'll see you folks again soon. Tomorrow, if I can keep a promise to myself.


People in the Sun said...

See, without stream of consciousness you wouldn't have shaved your legs.

When I was in the military, they taught me the super secret way of making the perfect coffee. Screw them. I drink Instant now.

jamwall said...

Last time that ice cream truck was playing the theme to "Schindler's List" followed by "Adagio For Strings" the theme to "Platoon" by Samuel Barber. Whats up with that shiznit?

jamwall said...

I also gave you exact measurements on how to create a beast with two backs.


Madge said...

oh my!
i love your meditations.

and motivated project-doing SG.

Anonymous said...

I think a lot of people get that strange 'what if' urge when standing next to an edge. There's a psychological term for it, but I can't think of it right now. Brains are strange...

Anonymous said...


Nothing gold can stay...one of my very favorite poems that no one ever gets when I try to work it into random conversation.

You rock.