The coffee here isn’t good, but it’s cheap and I need to caffeinated and warm up because the AC makes the building a huge refrigerator. I feel the heaviness behind my eyes lingering relentlessly. That feeling like something is pressing just enough that you are very aware of the placement of your eyeballs in their sockets. Katy Perry is singing California Girls over the speakers, but I’m in no mood. Generally I’d at least head-bop to this one, but I cannot even think straight. I’m literally just typing the first thing that comes into my head as I sit here attending half heartedly to the front desk.
I’m a bad employee today, and quite honestly I don’t give a damn. The fact that I even showed up proves otherwise. I could have very well bailed out. Something that keeps tempting me. I met my deductible on my insurance though, and I’m desperate to ride that out as long as I can. The insurance is a huge plus.
So now I’m here brewing coffee. Twice the amount of coffee than usual because today the cafe has the special. A 12oz cup is only $1 instead of a $1.25. You wouldn’t believe know knobby the customers get about that 25 cents. There are people who will only drink coffee on Wednesday to save that 25 cents. Crazy fucks. As if it matters.
How ironic that they spend the dollar just to save the 25 cents.
The Wednesday morning coffee clutch has gathered. With coffee in my own hands I eves drop. So and so is pregnant. So and so died. Such and such happened. Nothing that touches my own life, but knowing is harmless.
As I listen to the ladies talk I wonder to myself if this is how the ancients did it. A warm beverage or at least something cooking. The women gathered. The passing of information. The oral history that my generation lost with the recording of everything in the internet. Like writing on the wall. For what purpose?
...Bag O' Magic Soup 