Everything I Don't Write Is Full of So Much I Can't Say

I am addicted to cold brew coffee.

I am not wearing this like a badge. I’m just telling you what has recently developed in my life. 

The funny thing is, I had my first cold brew last week and haven’t stopped since.  Cold brew coffee and half n half, no sweetener.  It’s bomb.  So much so, that three days this week I had TWO of them in one day.  Not a good idea, but it was fun while it was happening.  It’s like drugs without drugs. (   I’ve been needing drugs lately.) I even bought a cheap cold-brew ‘system’ which is basically a pitcher with a coffee filter dropped into the middle of it.  I made it for the first time last night. Poured it into my gullet this morning.  So good.

I think this is better than the vodka addiction I usually have.  So, trading up…. (?)

I look forward to weekends now.  I mean, I guess I always did, but now it’s a big red balloon.  It fills and rises first thing Monday morning; what can I do this weekend that will make me have something to look forward to?  What sort of distraction can I occupy myself with?  What can I do that will fill this gaping hole?  

Thoughts of this; how I fill my weekdays.  It’s a sport.

At first, it was a calming.  A clapping of sandals and a settling of dust motes through sunlight.  A deep breath, released.  And now.  Now it is oozing and raw.  A hole to put stones inside.

I’ve been re-reading Stephen King’s (:::sign of the cross, kiss fingers, nod up to sky:::::)  Dark Tower series. I wanted to re-read it before the movie came out, refresh my memory.  It’s been at least 12 years since I read the last book in the series (and CRIED knowing it was over) and at least 33 years since I opened up the first book.  It’s been great being able to binge-read them instead of waiting YEARS in between each release.

I’ve rediscovered my heart in these books.  How much the thrill of the quest claims me.  I’ve recognized parts of my (YET FUCKING UNSOLD) novel in these books.  Realizing how deeply this story rooted itself in me, how I carried it into adulthood and seeped it out into my own story. 

I’m in the middle of book 4, Wizard and Glass, and I’m loving it. All of it.  Can wait for the next book and the next and the next.

Meanwhile, all the ‘current’ books I want to read are stacking up in a TOWER on my bedside table.  I will get to them eventually.  For now, I’m on Roland’s quest, trying to hold on to the face of my father.

Here’s what you need to know: a)  I am, as you have seen, writing again, albeit tiny. It’s millimeters more than I had been.  I call it victory.  An unblemishing. I am starting to see and feel the shine.  (and oh how that feels!) b)  I am also eating properly.  Making smallest progress but progress nonetheless.  It’s, finally, exciting.  Something that is not a prison anymore.  I’m so tired of all my prisons it’s nice to be (so far) free of one of them. c) I am letting myself hate this.  Letting myself feel how shitty this is.  Making myself ask myself how long I want to endure this prison. Self-flagellation   d) I am watching the Olympics instead of my regular shows.  I like witnessing history. I like bearing witness to the life dreams of others becoming reality. Watching them cry with ultimate joy.  It’s beautiful.  e) I’m doing my best to live as half which is completely contrary to how it is supposed to be.


Anonymous said…
Nitro Coffee is the bomb! Coffee on tap! 3.5 minutes from my front door.

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