My Abstract Morning
February 17, 2011 § 1 Comment
There is a draft where I’m sitting – directly above the air vent of course – so I slip on my jacket. I sit in the same worn leather booth every morning as the sun is rising over the concrete and treetops. The springs in the booth creak slightly as I shift my weight from left to right sipping my scalding hot cappuccino watching the morning masses saunter in. They, like me, saunter in half asleep to collect their breakfast fare and caffeinated beverages.
A tall, slender woman in a purple jacket is blocking my view out the window as she discusses the morning news animatedly with a short haired, middle aged man. They nod their heads as they speak; like bobble head dolls on the dashboard of an Oldsmobile. They are trading papers as the smell of bacon wafts through the air.
Random words float through the air from conversations around me creating a nonsensical story and in a moment I’m transported to a world of broken thoughts and concentration.
Coffee pot leaking.
That’s all I’ve got
invested in the market.
He’s over there,
do you mind if I sit here?
So now, so…
Hi, how are you?
Whole grain bagel, toasted.
I know you do!
There’s a price to be paid..”
A coffee grinder screams; conversations underway. Breakfast is the priority here no matter what they say. Morning papers are risen and laptops are running. Typing is tickling and stomachs are grumbling.
Piano music gets louder and I’m left alone with my thoughts.
The car is broken, the bills need to be paid. Where did I put my that necklace? Do the dog’s claws need trimming? Did I check my Facebook yet? Where is that tax return? There’s a bubble gum machine in my head – insert a quarter, out comes a new thought – pink and yellow and blue.
My bagel is getting cold as I scoop out the last bit of cream cheese and take a bite. Work, less than an hour from now, should go by quickly.
Is that Chopin on the piano?
I smell the burnt toast.
James Frey’s book – A Million Little Pieces. That’s how my brain feels right now. Scattered and the screaming string music cutting through my quiet morning makes my leg bounce and I feel unsettled. I didn’t sleep enough last night but then again when do I ever?
I take a deep breath, sip my cappuccino and watch as the purple woman collects her things, unveiling the sun as she walks out the door. The music quiets down as the vent kicks on again and I’m back – in the flash of a moment – to my ever streaming consciousness.
It’s a new day – the promise of something wonderful is looming overhead. At least that’s what I like to think as I start off my morning the same way I do every day. Sitting in this worn leather booth, drinking my coffee, greeting the world and watching its people whiz around.