Coffee, Writing

Cups of Coffee – Do Not Disturb

img_1163Sorry, I can’t talk, blog, chat, or do anything right now. I am coffee deprived and 395 pages of line edits away from final read through before hitting the query trenches. Leave me be. Go away. It is not safe to be near me. I am sort of freaking out. What if I never finish this thing? What if everybody hates me?

Well, I guess that would be the same old, same old…

 

 

Coffee, Writing

Cups of Coffee on the Edge

img_1162Today I sip coffee from the cup I got when my daughter and I visited The Grove Park Inn in Asheville, South Carolina right before she flew the coop and moved to New York.

The cup is teetering on the edge of oblivion just like my current book. I am doing line edits now, a last round of them, and it is going so sloooooowwww.  Reign rain rein – which one has to do with pulling a horse back? Ugh! Can imperial be used instead of draconian?

Coffee is not doing its job. I best not break the cup. It has sentimental value as much as anything does to me. Taking another sip. It’s after 5 PM. Shouldn’t I be changing over to tea? Ah well, so my esteemed colleagues at work will have to get on without heads tomorrow. Best press onward. There’s no going back now.

I wish I could go back to the Grove Park Inn. My daughter and I had a lovely time at the spa, but I have already recounted those adventures in this past blog post, Clothing Optional

Coffee, Writing

Cups of Coffee & Snarky Tea

img_1152A confession. Sometimes I drink tea. I do. After 5 PM on work days when I know if I drink more coffee, I will not be asleep in time to wake up in a state fit for human consumption the next morning. Last night, I forgot about the tea, drank WAY too much Death Wish coffee, and paid dearly at work. So tea is better in the afternoon.

If I could have it with little cakes, it would be even better but my expanding girth forbids that much indulgence. Anyhow, my bestie buddy brought me this Snarky tea from Nashville. Snarky tea of “Get You Sh*t Together” and “Calm the F*ck Down” variety. She has a way of telling me what she is thinking that only a best friend can.

CalmTheSnark is right up my alley so perfect gift. Surprisingly, this tea is damn good. I mean really good. The best tea I have ever had. And it has an attitude. There are also cups to go with the tea- featured here in orange. And candles that stink pretty while cursing at you. It’s a writer’s dream.

Reading the tea cans alone is worth ordering some of this tea. I laughed so hard and then sent some to my daughter. The one that talks about “Adulting is hard” because my kid is up in New York City attempting the whole adulting thing and it hasn’t always gone well. I’m still failing miserably at it.

Coffee, Music, Poetry, Quotes, Writing

Cups of Coffee And The People Over There

img_1147I have been pulled out of my own world and asked for opinions on this dreary piece of dirt recently. What side am I on? This is the question I remove my headphones to answer.  I surmise that my answer is how this eager and anxious little human will decide to hate me or use me. Lose/lose situation as far as I can see.

Ok, conflict. I get that. No story without it, but the conflict out here is the kind that ALWAYS ends badly. So I sip at my coffee and stare blankly at this buzzing little mortal. They do not go away. Annoying. I sigh, rethinking the whole bathing thing. Perhaps, if I could omit enough stench, I would not be plagued with these pick one side and stick to it sorts of debacles humans are always getting themselves into. Binary thinking. It’s so limiting. What the Hell do they teach in these schools these days? Clearly, common sense is not part of the curriculum.

I take a verse from Tolkien and give the emotionally dribbling human the same answer as Treebird. “I am not all together on anyone’s side because no one is on my side.

That pretty well sums up my politics on any issue. I figure that will be the end of the conversation and back under the headphones I can go to drink my coffee and work so I can pay rent and spend the rest of my time writing. No.

The inquirer foams at the mouth and makes an incoherent plea for their position. I hope what they want to happen (which involves death and dismemberment and revenge) never happens. That cycle turns cyclone all too quickly.

C’mon people. Cain killed Abel and after that, we never stopped killing the people over there. Eternity has cried out from rocks and burning bushes that we must love one another. A man of great peace and dignity came into the world and told us to love one another and paradise we would have. We nailed him to a tree.

Everything in us proclaims that love is the answer, the very beat of our hearts, the first cry we make as we enter the world, the last gasp of breath we take leaving it begs us to love one another for goodness sake. All we hear is “go kill the people over there.” Whoever the people over there happen to be. Until we become the people over there. How does this solve anything?

I take another sip of coffee and go under my headphones where the fate of this unfortunate ‘please chose a side so I can decide if I like you or not‘ was foretold almost forty years ago. I put on the headphones and listen to the old song, one that told me exactly what mob rule would get you when I was not even ten years old. Hatchet, axe, and saw.

Yes, I know. I am insensitive. I hear the cry to love one another. And yeah, I’m killing the people over there instead, but only on paper. I am a writer. I don’t get paid to be sensitive. I don’t get paid at all and won’t get paid unless I finish this book. Now stop all the drama so I can work. Geez. Maybe an attack of dragons really would do some good. I mean really.

There is unrest in the forest
There is trouble with the trees
For the maples want more sunlight
And the oaks ignore their pleas 

The trouble with the maples
And they’re quite convinced they’re right
They say the oaks are just too lofty
And they grab up all the light

But the oaks can’t help their feelings
If they like the way they’re made
And they wonder why the maples
Can’t be happy in their shade? 

There is trouble in the forest
And the creatures all have fled
As the maples scream ‘oppression!’
And the oaks, just shake their heads 

So the maples formed a union
And demanded equal rights
‘The oaks are just too greedy
We will make them give us light’
Now there’s no more oak oppression
For they passed a noble law
And the trees are all kept equal

By hatchet,
Axe,
And saw

 

 

Writing

Week 2 2016 – Mostly Migraines

 

IMG_0330Only 2 weeks into 2016,and I barely made it though the last week. Winter is here and kicking my butt. It started with a Migraine last Sunday, followed by all sorts of cold and death. David Bowie and Alan Rickman both died. Cancer blows, and it has robbed us of two great and inspirational artists. I will let others write their dedications more adequately than me. 

I was much distracted this week, not just by the migraine which kept creeping back over the week, but by the oppressive cold. I really want to hibernate until this winter foolishness is done. 

My daughter and I stopped for coffee this weekend at a wonderful place called the Land of 1000 Hills. This was the ending and bright spot of the week. My daughter visited and we went for brunch, a little shopping, and coffee at the nearby Atlantic Station. I got a cappuccino and the barista created a remarkable bit of art in the foam. With one sip, the lovely swan faded and disappeared. Such a delicate and beautiful thing this art in my coffee. Life feels like that now, just a single delicious taste, and it begins to grow cold and mutate. I feel old. I feel time slipping away. I feel I need to write faster before my whole world fades away like a swan drawn in the foam of a cappuccino.