Monday Idling

I took a morning walk to a nearby Starbucks early Monday morning. Outside was a nice idyllic atmosphere; the sun gilded everything, a few cats were on the hunt, and there was little noise except the chirping of some birds.

There was a surprisingly tranquil vibe inside the Starbucks. Two men were quietly reading their books beside an artificial fireplace with no distractions on their tables. It seemed like a reminder of what used to be, the world before smartphones and white collar cubicle jobs. Or maybe it was a reminder of what Monday could potentially be: a world without hustle culture and the “quest for the best.” What a nice way to start a Monday, I thought. In fact if everyone started their Monday by reading in a coffee shop, I’d bet we’d have far fewer issues.

I sat, sipped an espresso, and reflected on my dreams the night before. All seemed still for awhile.

There was no stress in the coffee shop. Stress is very visible and its presence is like a powerful electromagnetic field; you just know when it’s in the air. It’s written on every line, on every face, of the hustlers and botherers of the world: those politicians, pushers, managers, and marketers who never seem to stop prescribing things for you. Yet chronic stress is prescribed in their anti-anxiety meds. Ironically, stress is the harbinger of death. Yet hustle culture says it’s okay to be chronically stressed, because you have to “work for performance.” The only way to espouse this message convincingly is to convince the employee that he or she may somehow live forever. This hoodwink comes in the form of false promises of “security” and “retirement packages.” Indeed, “life security” seems to be the modern world’s version of promises “eternity in heaven.”

No rush hour, no drive-through, no engorging crappy processed food on the way to the office, no 7 am emails. Yes, this Starbucks trip was a glimpse of a better world. Ironic that it occurred in a corporate chain, but still a nice experience.

I approve the routine of these two men who took the time to read their books on Monday morning.

I felt some of the fatigue in my own legs on the walk back. This fatigue was from the 30 miles of running I did over Saturday and Sunday, finally settling in.

The experience made me decide that after this marathon, I’ll do a lot of idling before starting my runs and bike rides again. As far as hustling goes… “I’d rather not.”

All Life is Electric

We are all essentially masses of electromagnetic energy. It has been proven that all life is essentially electric, and death is a short circuit to our operating systems. This is often overlooked, but the idea was posed long ago (the great Nikola Tesla and the fraud on the other side of the Atlantic, Edison, among others).

Devices we hold in our pockets, on our wrists, and in our ears (Bluetooth) are radioactive. They essentially act to decelerate and weaken our electric currents. They debilitate us over time. They decay us and aid in our diseases. They erode our minds and hearts. Yet we carry them for the sake of convenience and social acceptance.

What am I getting at? If all life is electric, that electricity must go somewhere when we die. It is entirely plausible, therefore, that many ghost stories have some validity. A strong enough electromagnetic power must have a transference of some sort if the organism’s death is sudden and brutal.

Yet if ghosts exist, the invisible frequencies they ride would inevitably be muted by the very radioactive devices and 5G signals that permeate the air and kill everything else.

So, ghostly occurrences in the modern civilized world, I would think, would be more rare.

There you have it, some food for thought on Halloween.

Today I had coffee at Sump (one cup of an Ethiopian blend and another Peruvian). The Sump black coffee tends to be light and tinged with fruity flavor. No milk or cream crap needed. Black coffee is plenty fulfilling. I like it.

After coffee I rode my bike approximately twenty miles (32 km) on a route through Carondelet Park, across the River Des Peres greenway to Jefferson Barracks Park, and back downtown via Broadway street. My foot felt nearly painless. It was the first day since just before my 36th birthday that riding my bicycle felt like it did before the car crash. That, plus a few hours of sunshine, improved my mood considerably.

The fall sun is relatively pale and tolerable, and today’s chilly weather required a jacket. My chest was warm while the wind lashed an icy air at my hands and ears. I loved it. I felt like my old self. The journeyman is returning. He is not dead yet.

Adventure will resume soon…

The Weekly Plunder: Week 5 - Joyless Coffee

“We have been invaded and polluted by joyless coffee.” - Tom Hodgkinson

What is a K-cup coffee maker? It’s just a tool to deliver the industrious masses their bitter and tasteless coffee courtesy of a plastic cup. The plastic smothers the coffee in chemicals, which the user then gulps in haste. Meanwhile, the coffeemaker accrues bacteria that would otherwise have been avoided with better methods such as pour-over and French press.

Filth and low quality in favor of a moment’s time. The essence of the modern work era.

What is a Starbucks, but a means to hasten industry. It can’t be good coffee because nothing about it is slow. And of course, the bitter and tasteless coffee is well-hidden under heaps of creams and artificial flavors.

It’s sad to me that most people can’t take the time to just enjoy a solid cup of coffee. Maybe we should’ve been a tea culture. Sit down! Listen to some music. Read. And slowly, over the course of many hours, sip a good pourover or French press.

What I’m reading: “All I Care About is You”, a short story by Joe Hill. It’s interesting in that it’s really a parable of what it means to be human, and the value of having desire. Set in the future, a robot devotes itself to a teenage girl, but only out of its programmed necessity. The girl argues that desire renders one insane, telling the robot that it’s lucky to feel nothing (all of her friends are having plastic surgeries and constantly upgrading their tech). The robot argues that without desire, we are nothing but a circuitry board. Is being alive worth it? Of course, but, “the price of being alive is that someday you aren’t.”

What I’m listening to: “Circle” by Slipknot. I think this one has quite a few interpretations. Lately I take it as the feeling of knowing we are doomed to repeat ourselves and the fates of our fathers. “All of my endings are waiting to begin.”

What I’m watching: Midnight Mass. This has a lot of critical acclaim. We’ll see…

What I’m doing: I decided to see a foot doctor (also known as a podiatrist). When you’ve struggled to walk for a month, it seems like a natural course of action. The doctor’s assistant claimed my injury was the worst she’d ever seen. I am still setting records obvi. Really though, you never want to hear that. I was then taken for X-Rays and scans. Somehow, miraculously, nothing is broken or ruptured. But it’s a very severe sprain. It’s looking like it’ll be four months to recovery. That’s a bummer.

I am riding a bicycle anyways. I probably shouldn’t. I don’t really give a damn because it’s fun. Fun requires risk. And without risk in life, there is no reward.

Take a risk today. Here’s to hoping you reap a reward.