.this is how the week starts
The coffee shop is slow this morning - it is a welcome slowness though, as the pace of your brain is still more shamble than sprint; could be a case of the Mondays, could be the new methylphenidate brand you’re taking. The pharmacy changed distributors, or something, and the new pills have a different onset/decay curve than your old ones- you aren’t sure if you like them better or worse yet. The pills themselves, though, are more aesthetically pleasing - round and flat, purely white, scored down the middle for easy splitting. The old ones were more ovalesque, yellow, not easily split.
After you get your tea and water, you notice that plastic woman from the beach town that your roommate fucked - the one who left her bag o’ sex toys sitting in your front room. (That was a funny situation - you came home and noticed the bag o’ cocks’n’lube on the table, fake-ish sounds coming from your roommates’ bedroom. You sat down at your desk, door open into the living room as it always is, and 20 minutes or so later a naked, plastic woman darts into the living room for the bag. She trots back down the hall and says hi, and soon after the fake sounds started again.) She orders a latte for herself, and a teeny tiny lemonade for the teeny tiny toddler who is her daughter. There is friendly banter between her and the baristas - the kind that comes after an established customer-supplier relationship. It’s more than about the weather, less than the most intimate moments either have. If only the barista knew what you know. That’s the beauty of interpersonal relationships - sometimes, you can see the most amazing things play out in public.
You notice that your last entry ever made it past the page; you think you will put it up after this one, post-date it and link to it here. It has been an odd weekend/week, for sure. You notice that the screen you can see immediately to your left belongs to a person who is a relative newcomer to the shop - he Capitalizes words that are of Importance to him. A woman walks past you with a roll-away suitcase, and has on a blue track suit. The outward skin color of both her and the new guy make them quite noticeable in the land of milk- and honey-colored people. Rollaway has a smell to her, and chipped teeth - the store manager regards her with… is that caution? Disdain? Constipation?
This is your Monday, one person, one word, one experience at a time.