Lev Said
The Corner of Concentration
I was just settling into place, unpacking my laptop and stuff at the coffee shop corner community table. (Saint Seata had rewarded me again — thank you, Saint Seata. Now, if the muses will cooperate (yeah, they’re even required when editing and revising.)
A young woman approached. “Are you expecting someone else or saving these seats?”
“No, join me.” I indicate the rest of the table.
“Thank you. I like working at this table.” She’s unpacking her computer as she speaks. “I get a lot of work done here and it has a plug.”
Yeah, people call it a plug, but it’s an outlet, innit? Whatever; she’s young. I reply, “Yes, I notice that people who work in this corner tend to be focused. I call it the corner of concentration.”
“The corner of concentration, I like that,” she says with laughter. “You have a good vibe. I like it.” Before I can do anything more than smile, she says, “I’m a writer.”
“What are you writing?” I ask.
“A cookbook.”
“Oh, cool.”
“It’s for women and will have recipes for women to help them manage their energy for different situations.”
“Sounds like an interesting idea. Good luck.”
“Thanks. What’re you doing in the corner of concentration?”
“I’m a writer, too.”
“Oh, what do you write?”
“I’m working on a novel.”
“Is it fiction?”
Isn’t a novel by definition a work of fiction, I don’t say, because I’m non-confrontational and I don’t want to spoil my good vibe. “Yes.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s a speculative novel about life and memories.”
“Interesting. I think I want to write a novel someday.”
She goes off to get her coffee. I sit down, take my first sip, and settle in.
Time to write like crazy, one more time.
The Flirting
He approached the common table. Two young women were at one end. As they looked at him, he asked, “Do you mind if I occupy the other end?”
“No,” one said. Gesturing to a chair that was pulled out, she said, “Not at all. We already pulled out a chair for you.”
The other woman said, “We were just getting ready to go, anyway.”
Nodding as he began unpacking his gear, he said, “So you saw me coming, pulled out a chair, and prepared to go?”
Their laughter made him smile.
Coffee Wizards
Noble Coffee Shop baristas wear long black aprons, which lend them the appearance of coffee wizards as they slip around behind the counters and cases, brewing drinks, dashing out to the roaster and grinder to create more.
Judging from this cuppa, it’s wonderful magic at work.
Not Necessarily
Is three times a charm? Not necessarily when novel writing.
I’m into draft number three of the current novel in progress (NIP). I call it number three, but I’ve rewritten and rearranged the first five pages about one billion times, and do the same for the first fifty pages at least six million times.
Fast writer, aren’t I?
I suspect those numbers are exaggerations for effect, although it seems like they’re true. I know of some days when I undid when I did he previous day. Makes me think of the novel blues.
I woke up this morning with a gleam in my eye.
Had a masterpiece in my head, I will not tell a lie.
Rushed to the keyboard, to get it all down,
then the muses abandoned me, made me feel like a clown.
Oh, yeah, I have the stumbling through the story, struggling novelist blues.
And if you wrote like me, you’d probably be sufferin’ them too.
Come on, sing along as you write.
As with everything writing, I remain mostly passionate and hopeful, depending upon the hour, day of the week, which way the wind is blowing, and other important portends such as a crow cawing from the top of a tree.
Got my coffee. Time to continue writing like crazy.
Daydream
Things that are dark in flavor appeal to me. I like dark meat, dark chocolate, dark red wine and port, and dark beers like port and stout. I try – and often fail – to keep an open path to my taste buds. That means sampling offerings that don’t appeal to me based on familiarity and comfort. But I’m such a creature of ruts and routines that varying my choices becomes a challenging exercise.
Daydream is part of that.
Daydream is a Noble Coffee dark blend. As dark as an Italian roast in appearance, it’s not as sharp and bitter as an Italian or a French roast. Its flavor is smooth and fresh to my taste buds, toying me with mild nuttiness.
I do try others at Noble. Each day, they offer a blended dark and a unique, single origin that’s a lighter roast. True to form, the light roasts are revealed as winy and bitter to me. Some, though, have a terrific grapefruit juiciness, a taste that my taste buds like to have in IPAs, red blends, and Pinot Noirs.
Ultimately, it’s a world of choices out there, a distant shout from those early days at work, sipping Maxwell House re-heated in the microwave.
Got my brew, time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Monday’s Bumper Sticker
Dieting? Gaining weight, losing weight? Beer, marijuana, coffee, wine? Brain? What’s this about?
Bong Said
Okay, fourth attempt to set the featured image on WP today. Don’t know what’s causing this but it’s frustrating. Is the fourth time a charm?
Friday’s Theme Music
Looked in the mirror this morning…
Yeah, big mistake. Reminder: never look in the mirror before medicating with coffee, Michael.
My father’s image started replacing my image about ten years ago; now his father is replacing his image in my mirror. After reflecting on that (hah! get it? yeah, I thought you did), I drifted toward the day’s beginning where the cats awaited the feeding rituals. Thinking about what needed to be done today and tomorrow, I drifted toward a spot of sunshine peeking over mountain, and through the trees and window. With that, a 1979 Kinks song flushed into the stream.
Woke up this morning, started to sneeze
I had a cigarette and a cup of tea
I looked in the mirror what did I see
A nine stone weakling with knobbly knees
I did my knees bend press ups touch my toes
I had another sneeze and I blew my nose
I looked in the mirror at my pigeon chest
I had to put on my clothes because it made me depressed
Surely there must be a way
For me to change the shape I’m in
Dissatisfied is what I am
I want to be a better man
Superman, Superman, wish I could fly like Superman
h/t to Genius.com cuz’ cut and paste is easier than typing.
Here’s the song, “(Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman”. Dig that bass line.
A Noble Coffee House
I’ve been coming to Noble’s for a few weeks at this point. It’s a damn fine place. Larger community tables have outlets nearby, what we regulars (yeah, I’m a regular now) call a power table. Besides those tables are many tables that seat two to four. Conversation pits with sofas, easy chairs, and rockers offer comfortable options for chatting with friends.
Located among a few other businesses on the bottom of Fourth Street where it meets A Street at the bottom of the hill, still downtown but away from the Plaza, Noble’s is larger than other Ashland coffee shops, with space for fifty to sixty without too much problem (and there are days when it’s been packed). Large windows along one wall deliver delightful natural light but well-placed and assorted light fixtures (no fluorescent, thanks) help minimize shadows. And, for those who wish, several outside tables (on the sidewalk) give more seating and visiting options.
Coffee is very good to excellent. They offer two fresh options every day. My preference is a dark blend called Daydream. It’s all those thing you hear about in coffee commercials, like smooth, robust, and flavorful. I might have had an orgasm the first time I drank some.
Not surprising. Nobles uses fair-trade, organic coffee. The owner/operators go on buying and picking trips a few times per year. See that glass door in the corner? If you look in it, which they encourage, you’ll see their coffee roaster. Yes, it’s all roasted and ground on site.
Besides appealing, fresh coffee, tasty pastries like scones, muffins, and croissants (savory (like ham and cheese) or sweet (like chocolate)) will satisfy your peckishness. I’ve had the gluten-free pumpkin scone (baked in the kitchen in the back) three times (for quality purposes, of course), and tried the blueberry gf muffin twice. Now I need to talk myself out of buying one (or something else) every time I come. They’re addictive, I’m telling you. You’ve been warned.
Friendly baristas serve it up, the final touch on a proper coffee place. Come along. It’s a good place to meet with friends, take an energy break, study, read, or write a book.
Michael Seidel, writer 