Saturday

Sitting on the porch

It’s that kindof day. Where Dogs whine and bark to be let out and scratches at the door as manifestations of the itchy feet and cats are nowhere to be seen. A day when the bonds that hold you down drag like cement shoes and the humidity bears down on you like lead rain. The world is dull with opportunity.

Clomp

Clomp

Clomp at five metres your new shoes give your feet blisters.

Clomp

Clomp

At ten your shirt is soaked.

Clomp

At fifteen you can barely move. And you look back and the house beckons with promises of crisp iced tea in the refrigerator, and ice in the freezer beside chocolate dipped revels. And you can’t make it any farther because you’re too tired. And there’s things to be done today. And besides you can leave anytime.

So you slog your way back. The tea feels new and alive in your throat, and the ice cream wakes you up and you’re almost ready to go, but the newspaper beckons with possibility. All the possibilities in the world in the weekend edition. You pick it up and flip through. Everything that can be done overseas and under seas. You catalogue them in the back of your mind safe for when you make you’re getaway.

Then you look up and the sun is fading and the darkness outside is too formidable for your small light. And the NewYorkTimesCrossword is nearly done, so you might as well put it off ‘till tomorrow.

The crossword is done and your mind is near blank. You wash your face, maybe take a cold shower before you go to bed and dream of all the things you will do tomorrow, all the new ideas you gained from today that will be put into action.

And you get up in the morning and tomorrow is gone like the imagined sight of a friend in a crowd and it’s today again and the dogs bark and whine and you can’t find your cat and the paper sits on the porch.

Thursday

Coffee or Love

“It’s either love or too much caffeine.”

“Really? You just met her.”

“No that’s why I said either. I’ve been drinking too much coffee today.”

He punctuates the sentence with a sip of coffee as if to prove his point.

“You really got to lay off the coffee.”

The two young men are drinking coffee at an all night diner. The only light outside is lurid and artificial.

“I’ve been so hopped up on the stuff today that I can barely sit down. I can’t sleep; I can barely keep a thought in my mind for more than five seconds. And the way my heart’s going it’s fit to burst.”

“Which is either the caffeine or the girl.”

“Or both.”

“Or both.”

The waitress puts a temporary hold on their conversation.

“You boys decided yet?”

“You decided what you want?” the overly caffeinated fellow asks his friend.

“Yeah. I’ll have the apple pie.”

“Anything else for you?”

“A refill would be nice when you have the chance.”

“Sure Hon.” She turns to the other fellow, “And for you?”

“The breakfast special with scrambled eggs, bacon and brown toast.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“A refill for me too.” He puts his mug to the side of the table with shaking hands. “Oh and do you have any H.P. Sauce and hot sauce?”

“Sure do. I’ll bring it right out.”

“Thanks.”

They hand over their menus.

“Little late for breakfast.”

“Or early. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”

“Lay off the coffee man.”

“I’m not sure it would help.”

“Really? She’s got you that tied up in knots. Just like that?”

“Maybe it’s the combination. Like getting teamed up on in a fight.”

“So lay off the coffee, give it a couple hours and at least have a nap before you go to work.”

“Nah. It’s too far gone far that already.”

His eyes dart around the room. The sight of the waitress coming towards them stalls the conversation yet again.

“Not very many people drinking coffee at this time of the night. Had to put on a new pot.”

“Actually, on second thought I’ll pass on the second cup of coffee,” he says staring hard at his jittery friend.

“You too hon?”

“No no, hit me with another. I’m not going to sleep anytime soon.”

She leaves.

“Honestly? You couldn’t just stop drinking the coffee. All that caffeine can’t be good for you.”

“Meh. I’ll be fine.”

They share a moment of silence, one looking slowly around the room, eyes landing on the couple across from them, and the group of highschool students with their twittering laughter near the back, the other with both legs shacking up and down, darting eyes and the constant movement of mug to mouth.

“So you were saying you are too far gone.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s hard enough to sleep on a good night. But a night like this…”

“I guess the heat doesn’t help anything.”

“Nope.”

“Either way I guess the date went well then.”

“It was just coffee.”

“Whatever it was. It went well?”

“Yeah. I mean we sat there for hours drinking coffee and talking. So that’s pretty good. I always feel so nervous when things start to go well. Like they can see me starting pursue them in my awkward way. I think it would be off-putting. You saw me around her. Did I act all head-over-heels?”

“Well you were twitchy and a little more nervous than usual. But that could have been the caffeine. I guess it’s just a chemical reaction in your brain either way isn’t it?’

They waitress arrives with their food.

“The apple pie, and the breakfast. Anything else? A refill on your coffee?”

“Yeah I’d like a refill.”

“My you do like your coffee don’t you?”

“I do.”

“What about you? A little bit of coffee with your pie?”

“No. I have to sleep tonight.”

“You sure? It’s hard to eat pie without coffee. A touch wouldn’t hurt would it?”

“Give me half a cup. I guess I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t beat the black brew man. Thanks”

“You need anything else just let me know.”

She walks away leaving them to try to drudge up the conversation.

“I don’t buy the chemical reaction stuff.”

“What? It’s science. It doesn’t matter if you buy it or not.”

“No I don’t mean I think that it’s all false, I just think there’s more too life than just chemical reactions in your brain. I mean if it’s just the coffee than all it means is a bad night’s sleep, if not it could mean a completely new direction in life, new friends, new pains and joys.”

“Yeah I guess.”

“I just hate it when people try to be so jaded and act as if it’s all just electricity throwing switches in your brain.”

“Yeah I know. But it’s not all sweeping romances either.”

“Yeah. There are precious few of those.”

On that downer they both focus on their own thoughts, and food. Soon both sit in font of empty plates and mugs.

“I think it’s about time for me to go to bed. Probably a couple hours past that actually. You want a ride back?”

“Nah. I’ll walk. Maybe I’ll catch the sunrise from the park.”

“Sounds nice. See ya.”

He puts down a five dollar bill and leaves.

Saturday

Creativity?

People always ask where creativity comes from. From the ether may be the best answer. Know one answers the question directly, and if the scientists know they’re not telling. It just appears in your head, and then moves through your hands and out. You can’t think about it too much. What comes is 90% of the time what needs to come out your fingertips. It will need work. It will need to be perfected, to be refined, but at it’s heart what pops into your head is what just works. If you start opening too many possibilities in your head it all falls apart. There’s just too much out there. Too many possibilities that your project can be. Once you start down that path it all comes apart in your hand. It’s too fragile. Treat it with care and don’t prod it too much. Just put it down. That goes for life too.

Blog Archive

  • 12 (3)
  • 11 (2)
  • 9 (8)
  • 8 (1)
  • 7 (3)
  • 6 (2)
  • 5 (4)
  • 4 (1)
  • 3 (2)
  • 2 (4)
  • 1 (4)
  • 12 (2)
  • 11 (7)
  • 9 (2)
  • 8 (3)
  • 7 (3)
  • 6 (2)
  • 5 (2)
  • 4 (3)
  • 3 (6)