An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

Fluffy wisps  you can  get lost  within  the mass of  cotton tendrils wrapped within  ice crystals  and they carry  the weight  of life giving water until the burden becomes too great and they shower the land with cool storms

That first impression  that meeting of eyes  has more of an effect  than you realize  A quick appraisal  a judge of your soul  can change your path  and derail your goal.  Is this a threat or is this already written? Is this just your fate or are you just smitten? An instinct right here  to reach for his hand  and follow his footsteps  across a barren sand

Mother hates tattoos she thinks they are tacky  unattractive  a sign of a criminal  She talked about them behind their back but never directly to their faces Husband thinks  those who have them  are rebels against  polite society  He says he believes in live and let live but he always has a definite opinion I believe that  they are beautiful art  an expression of  individuality The colors and patterns fascinate my creative eye perhaps one day I get pictures of my own

Face florid with wine  unfocused gaze  the men's smiles do not reach their eyes the women titter behind their fans the servants go about with averted faces and the duchess  once again  goes to bed  alone.

It is spring  the seedling  pokes its leaves  out of the soil  It is summer  it flourishes  in the bright sun  the flowers bright  It is autumn  it shivers in the cold  it knows its time  fast approaches  It is winter  its roots shrivel  the cold freezes  it no longer breathes A new seed  slumbers deep  underground the cycle continues.

Long long ago  carved in rock  painted on leather  words of love  and protection  and revenge  a runic incantation charged with every bit of spiritual intention a declaration of thought this pagan poetry  still has a magic  every time the words  are read aloud by the living the bond is unbroken the curse is ongoing the weaver lives anew

One man's villain  is another man's hero  whose side are you on?  One man's rebel  is another man's  freedom fighter  One man's genius  is another man's  madman  One man's pariah is another man's savior Whose side are you on?

Cut with the grain not against it  stick with the pattern the needle drives the thread  with every push  of the pedal  pins and backing seams and zippers the mannequin stands ready for its brand new outfit why make a bespoke one when you can buy cheaply? each garment is fresh a unique expression of art what seems like a lost art  is alive and well  a practical skill  in this day and age

Prisms of light  broken up  by fresh drops  that run down  the glass  A dark background the stormy sky lightning above illuminates the inky blackness Can you see  your own reflection  is it crystal clear  or is it shattered  by thunder outside?

On the beach  walk along the  sandy dunes the wind in your hair  salt on the breeze  foam on the waves  feel the power  roll in the sea  encroach on the land the cry of the gulls the sparkle of the sun all together in harmony

lurch upwards  out of a waking dream  don't know if  I'm still asleep  they all stare  with fake concern  maybe I'm crazy perhaps I'm lazy or I nap in the weirdest places in public but this is not  the world in where  I belong. And that other dimension is already fast fading into my dark subconscious

They say money  does not buy  happiness  that you can  be poor  yet be content  with your lot in life  Quite philosophical That may be true  but having  enough to eat  and a roof  over your head  gives you time  to spout philosophy.

Mix the batter  pour it out  onto the pan  oven already  warmed  the dog  and the cat  sit in front  of the door tails wag in anticipation  not because  to warm their paws but to wait  for a batch  of delicious treats

Try to understand  the words slip  between your fingers  and burn your toes  head spins because  you cannot connect what is being said to what you understand a molten logic  that sears your brain  and life doesn't  make sense anymore

Can't undo the past  it ripples into the present  and affects the future  But instead of mourning  what could have been  what can we do now?  Is it mitigation  tied always behind  or is it a rebuilding? The foundation needs to be ripped out and complete redone New walls go up sun through clean windows floors scrubbed and polished So much work but your future is so much more comfortable.

clenched fists a hero's pose  as they are put  into dire straits  a realization  that the world  is in peril  yet again  that flash  of determination  roll up the sleeves  and do what  heroes always do not for the praise not for the fame but because it is always the right thing to do

Words on paper  recently dug up  from the depths  of the desk drawer  it's been ten years  since it has seen  the light of day  characters frozen in time and on stage  mid-sentence the plot unresolved original manuscript  unpublished  maybe a novel  someday

The fiend  the enemy  always with the  long monologue  reveal the plan  to take over  the whole world  give them the  courtesy  because plot armor  is expected  for that speech  so the hero just waits until they are done

When good events happen  it’s good to celebrate them  life is not easy but there are the little moments.  So why is it  such a sin  to be happy for them? Why can't we share it?  Why is it so satisfying  to put down the joy  and mock the ones  who even mention it? Because jealousy is rife and modesty is the rule existence is a drudgery until the very end? That is a cynical way to live if you want to be miserable don't bring the rest of us down.

A distant memory  though the passage of time  has not been long at all  Grasp at details  muddied by events  between now and then  Names dissolve into disjointed mist and I cannot spell those. Sensations fade  even as I try my hardest  to remember them.