On Coffee and Ghosts

Here's me having no concept of time, at work four hours early. I didn't mentally note when I'm to show up because we always start extra office coverage at 10 AM. Except when we don't. Thinking like this is how people die.

Starbucks ground coffee was on sale at my local market, so I bought Espresso Roast for the office. There's crack in it - I never actually want Starbucks coffee until I drink it and then I think it's so great. Starbucks tastes like nostalgia*.

Upon first sip I remember sitting under the palm tree outside my Palm Springs apartment with my friend, or at a table outside the Starbucks on the strip, or in my car at the drive-up window with two poodles and a dalmatian in the back seat. The SBUX employees crowded around the window; they knew the poodles and wanted to know my name.

They were hard times, very real times. I love real so much.

The brain is a funny thing; I can drink this coffee and conjure up the feel of sun on my skin at 7 AM in the desert, when it's still 78 degrees but you know it's going to dip over 100 later. I can hear that crow yelling at me from the palm tree. I can smell the poodles.

Now that I've miscalculated and I'm not supposed to be here, I'm going to just sit and drink coffee, pore over emails looking for things I may have overlooked in the busy week; go to the hotel for lunch and come back at my scheduled time. Write this blog post, which started as an email.

I learned from Paolo Coelho to stop - when  you've forgotten something, when you've miscalculated and obviously landed in an unscheduled place or time - and just wait five minutes. Sometimes, he says, your angels are placing an obstacle in your path for a reason.
Margie Summers taught me the term "Ghosts" as the name for what remains of old advertisements painted on city bricks. She sent me these pictures of downtown St. Chuck. Margie, I went ahead and cited you. That seems obvious, doesn't it?
What ghosts do you find on your main street? 

Further Reading:

Books by Paolo Coelho

The Valkyries
This book taught me that my angel has a name, and that I should decide whether I want to know that name.
The Alchemist
This book taught me how to follow my dreams, and that every person or place you encounter has something to give you.
By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept
This book taught me that there are enough people believing in the feminine face of G-d. It's okay to be another one. We aren't crazy.
Veronika Decides to Die
This book taught me that it doesn't matter how many times you choose to live; that will always be the correct number of times.  Also, it always matters to know where someone is from, even if you don't do anything with the information.

*Special message to Rob Colpman and my partner in crime Pete:  go ahead and peddle that line to marketing, but get me on the bag-a-week-for-life program, k? Be crack dealers. 


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    Keep up the great writing.


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