In lieu of posting today, I’m reprinting an entry I wrote for my old (now long-gone) blog on 10-21-2010. A little glimpse at my life as a 19-year-old in New England
Two nights ago, at Blue State Coffee on York, as I was waiting for my usual order (Lavender Earl Grey tea, steamed milk on the side), I eavesdropped on the baristas. It was one of those dreary New Haven days. Cold, but not cold enough to get stay in the sterile confines of Swing Space, when the leaves are just turning that deep red color and look like they’re on fire. So I braced the walk by Toads and ventured out read Sartre in Blue State.
Bored by the Democratic slogans and the T-Shorts on the side counter, I listening in. The baristas were talking about ancient civilizations, the importance of the horse in the development of Western Europe (apparently South Americans had been a lot less mobile because they couldn’t ride llamas on the terrain), and of wheat as a crop that kept for a long time.
And for some reason the conversation really stuck with me. I’m not too sure why. Now, hours later, back in the comforts of my room and a mug of Chai tea, I can’t get the image of someone riding a llama out of my head. But more importantly, listening to rambling philosophical thoughts and ideas, reminds me to keep being inspired by the silly things, like, say tea bottle caps.
I read a six-word memoir today (found on the inside of my ‘Jasmine Green Energy Tea’) that went like this:
“met wife at her
I’m all for true love, but I honestly don’t know how that premise makes me feel. Frankly, I’m a little dubious about that whole scenario where a person is marrying someone else and just happens to meet the love of their life days, nay, hours beforehand. I think I’ll leave that to the movies.
And so I am replying the only way I know how to. In another six-word memoir of what the response to that bottle cap should have said:
“Male stripper became
my husband, bitches”
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