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Thursday, March 5, 2015

Day 2 - The Afternoon of Quitting Coffee

12:34 p.m.  The Windmill Cafe  Day 2  No Coffee Update

My lips have been tied to the spout of a green tea bottle most of the morning.  Measured sips.
 2 ounces per 15 minutes.  Rehydrate with water.  Eat a Fuji apple for energy.  Nut bar a little after an hour. (DOn't stop get it get it. DOn't stop N*ggah hit it.  <----- this is what happens in my mind.  Random song selection.  My FGF (Forever girlfriend) gets to hear my unfiltered, radio station brain in the morning as she gets ready for work.  But everyone else would be appalled by what is on the flow list. )

Met with a new friend, Di Di, in downtown Santa Cruz near the Trader Joe's near Front street.  Walked over San Lorenzo Park and passed 6 homeless folks.  Two of which were technically not home less - in that they lived within their econoline.
"Why the fuck I wanna leave my home to go there, bitch?  I like my home!"
yelled the hidden, presumed male, figure somewhere beyond the opaque curtains in the windows and the half-way slung door.  The van was 1970's Gold paint with beautiful, deep, marron lines on the sides.  It was parked beneath a birdless, oak tree, in front of a meter flashing red. Code for : "put a quarter in me".
i wanted to ask them: "Do you guys have to pay the meter if one of you stays with the vehicle?" They would know.
When i lived in the streets of Southie, in Boston, it was necessary to understand how to get around the Transportation Department system.
They would definitely know.

Di Di walked on with a confluence of words, spit and scent jogging from inside the cave of teeth.
Didn't seem to notice this urban ecosystem claiming neighborship to her domain. We passed the couple on our right.  The woman was standing, half cocked torso toward the floor, holding a self-rolled cigarette on the left hand between the bottom 2nd and middle finger.  Her head wrapped in a tunic showcasing apricot and sanguine gardenias.  The black pants were reminiscent of MC Hammer.  Puff pastry cotton - crisp from wear and billowy despite the soot.


Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Monica Riehl - of Leo Leo - The Fear of Starting Over & Facing Addiction

It's been multiple years for me.  The journey of just everything.  My mind still feels 19 or 17 years old.  Sharp, incandescent, and upset over the social constructs.  Most of them when my emotions are generous, all of them - when they are not. 
The rebellious nature of immaturity vs. the acceptance which comes with the nuances of time continues.  Some folks still battle with alcoholism, drug dependance, the exaggerated desire to consume 1 entire flourless, chocolate cake from Trader Joe's and/or an entire Otto's Pizza (squash, dired cranberries, fontina, ricotta - I know we just met but trust me on this one). 
   
I stopped drinking coffee yesterday - and just recently moved to Santa Cruz, Ca.  Perhaps, it is a move to molassify the feelings of change.  Yes, mollasify.  It is a verb - and it means to assist with the delaying of, or slowing, of a process, event or timeline. In this case, the application refers to the emotions associated with so much change.   
Transplanted from Boston, Ma.  Someone reading this may be like - 
"oh!  You've missed the 'bad' weather!  You must be so happy!"

i like snow.  Grateful to be here - and, also, today it is '42 degrees in Boston compared to Santa Cruz's early morning '43 degrees. 
Perspective. 

So- I'm quitting coffee.  Or, I've quit coffee, despite arriving into town and experiencing a nirvanaesque (the feeling, not the band) adrenaline rush after finding nitrogen infused, cold-pressed, iced coffee at the Verve.  Yet, no iced coffee is the same as Boston's super impressive, Fazenda Cafe- located in Jamaica Plain. Have it, cradle it, and don't share it.  Also, please try it black before tainting it with anything coming from a cow udder or shell. 

Maca.  I brought that ancient, Peruvian devil powder into my kitchen to assist with the expected slump in energy.  I read the posts, reports, and history (allegedly used by the tribal natives of Peru - by the way, if you Google 'indians of Peru' there are some not politically correct choices in the search).  Excited about all of the health and fitness benefits - sure to be making a fantastic choice - there was 1/2 teaspoon added to my Chicory/Dandelion coffee substitute.
Typically a chill person, hardly a user of vulgar expression, an advocate of peace and often compared to having movements akin to a slothenly pig in the sunother gluten-free fig bar
- imagine the surprise to be experiencing unwarranted aggression towards a gluten-free fig bar stuck to his brother,

First, there was a stream of obscenities spewing from a whisper within the 'E note register

Suddenly my face is fired up Maroon.  The rest of the day was approached with the casual residence of folding towels.  1.  a series of arguments with T-Mobile and Walmart's Family Mobile in which I flex my bi-lingual ability to denigrate, then apologize. 
 (I don't really want to link to either of those bastards brands to this blog right now).  I've still got the Maca in my veins.  Suffice to say that customer service is a thing of the past.  Centurian here, checking in for an X-Generationer.

8:16 a.m. 
In this moment, "Dream Lover" by Bobby Darin is on, I'm sitting in front of my computer table - overlooking this beautiful garden with an oak tree ( this could be a total fabrication as I don't know tree species) and Zantedeschia_aethiopica (these are lilies) and tiny yellow flowers budding out the ground. The first time these guys were spotted outside of our patio - I knelt down to welcome them.  Literally "Hey!  Where did you guys come from!?".  
no response.

Beautiful, serene. Everything I've just described sits next to a lagoon and Twin Lakes State Beach.