A Cup of Coffee, a Taste of Life

365 Days of Creativity

day fifty two

A Cup of Coffee, a Taste of Life

The subtle comfort of a familiar coffee shop. Welcoming faces and smiles as warm as the drinks. Beans from exotic countries halfway around the world. Names hard to pronounce with flavour profiles of other foods. 

I order a Bolivia. The beans ground fresh, and brewed for each individual mug. The scent of rich coffee rolls in waves as the beans are crushed open. Boiling water searches through the maze of caffeinated flakes, exploring each hill and crevice while bringing the flavours with it on it's journey down into the cup.

Silky, scented, and steaming.

The cup is put before me. I wrap my cold fingers around the heated ceramic, lacing them together at the back. Cradling the java like a jewel thief holding the Hope Diamond. I blow, gently as to not slosh any of the liquid amber over the side. A sip. Hot and heavenly, like the first kiss from a new lover. Each cup is a relationship, sweet and surprising at the start, cool, and sometimes bitter at the end.

The liquid runs over my tongue. Returning the favour of my caressing the mug, the liquid touches each taste bud, teasing it into alertness. Suddenly - experience. Impossible flavours of toasted caramel, sweet toffee and an overall soft, lightly weighted taste.

A soft sigh of release. Caffeine, like nicotine, provides a sense of knowing. Of calm and patience, even when the inner effects are quite the opposite.

The quick grind of the next drink being prepared rouses me from my trance. An espresso shot being compressed into the perfect puck, blistering hot water seeping through, collecting the heavy notes and caramel flavours. The hiss of milk being aerated, followed by a whisper as the steam wand is plunged deeper into the milk, heating the rest of the jug.

An orchestra of sounds and smells, swirling together to deliver a creamy cappuccino. The small cup bears host to an impeccably formed rosetta. A white leaf feathered softly against the tan of the espresso.

Immaculate.

Sensational.

Coffee.

Reputation

What will people say about me?

What will my story be?

The interviews with the people in my life, the people I’ve influence, the people I’ve touched.

Will I have made a difference?

“What was she like?”

She takes a long breathe. A deep inhale of knowledge. But through her thin cigarette. “That’s what she was like. She was a hit. A drag of smoke, a nicotine inhale. She was elegance and honesty and harsh beauty. Nothing about her was flawless, and so all together she was perfection.” She takes a swig from her whisky, letting the spice run over her tongue. “Everything about her was mysterious, yet completely on the surface. She was wise, and intelligent and deeply anchored in everything that she believed.”

“And what did she believe in?”

“Oh you know,” she swept a curl off of her forehead, “she believed in change, in the sweet escape of imagination. Above all she believed in the beauty of broken things.”

“Was she herself broken?”

“She was the epitome of terror. Of cracked and broken dreams, that’s why her resolution was so firm. Her skin so tough and her wall so thick.”

“But you say everything was on the surface?”

“Well,” another sip, “she was honest. Clear and true and bright as the full moon. But she had so many secrets. I don’t think anyone knew everything about her. There were rumours and whispers and echoes of time that followed her endlessly, but she walked forward still. Onwards and upwards she would always say.”

“Did she accomplish what she wanted?”

“Yes and no. But anything she missed she’ll catch the next time around.”

Who am I?

365 Days of Creativity

I realize that I am not updating everyday like I said. But fuck it, my blog, my rules.

I also finally got some terrible votes on my blog! About time! "Fame or infamy, either one is better than being forgotten."

day fifty one

Who am I?

I am everything you've never wanted to be.

Every dare, every sin, every bad influence you've ever had.

I'm that kid with the drug connection.

I'm that girl with the sex addiction.

I am every broken home, every forgotten dream, every loner, stoner and shameful boner.

I am your daddy issues, I am the skeleton in your closet.

I am your alcohol, your nicotine, your guilt, your fears, your violent wet dreams.

I am your obsession and your disgust. I am your bulimia and your mistrust.

I am relapse, I am self loathing.

I am nightmares and tears, and wolves in sheep's clothing.

I am temptation, your gluttony, your sloth.

I am your need to win at all costs.

I am a razor, shiny and sharp. 

I am your gateway, into the dark.

Kakashi

365 Days of Creativity

day fifty

Xmas present for my brother; Kakashi from Naruto

Ingestion

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty nine

INGESTION

Hungry hungry

artist's gut.

Watching, staring

eyes wide shut.

Empty mind

and starving soul.

Pixel pigments

take their toll.

Flustered hands

and searching eyes,

hear them fed to

gigabytes.

Wonder, wonder

give me more.

Life attuned

to no one's score.

Safety lies in

walls of rules.

Walk outside

to misconstrue.

Images of

honesty.

Blood and tears,

an odyssey.

Loyal patron

eats it up.

Ask for seconds,

fill your cup.

Blue light, red light.

Stop and go.

Entertain me,

with your show.

Teach Me Master

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty eight

Master sits on stilts so high.

His robes a forest, eyes the sky.

I kneel before this old young man,

take his knowledge, take his hand.

Words of wisdom, never said.

Innocence, enters my head.

Eras gone, the gods do perish.

Bold and brave, new worlds to cherish.

And he's lived all, a soul through worlds.

All of space, his to unfurl.

Weaving threads, through maps and time.

Singing songs, with muted rhymes.

Lessons learned and lessons lost.

This is my dawn. My birth. My cost.

A Gift For My Darling

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty seven

An ink / water colour for my soul mate and closest friend.

Never worked with water colour before, not a great piece of art, but the words define something I thought no one could.