I studied a pigeon today. For no other reason than because it shared a patch of sun with me. Glorious watching its feathers turn from gloomy gray to brilliant teal and blushing pink. But then we passed one another and I was just left with the sun.
A girl caught my eye today. She was of a type I like, of course. I doubt she would have caught my eye otherwise. I noticed how very young she seemed.
What is our preoccupation with youth? We associate beauty with youth more than with age. There are always exceptions, but you understand what I’m saying. Is it some evolutionary predisposition? Do we desire younger mates due to some pre-programming of perpetuating the gene pool? Or is it the innate fear of death? Maybe we seek younger mates, associating beauty and desire with them, because they are farther away from death?
After she caught my eye, I shook my head, dispelling the image and dismissing her. But now, despite the action of forcing her from my mind, by immortalizing her by word, she’ll be in my memory. Which is weird since, even by my own account, she wasn’t extraordinary. Only less ordinary because, for a brief second, she intrigued me. Then I turned a corner and she was gone.
I ordered a chai tea today. It’s the first one I’ve had in ages. I’m trying to be healthier, lose a little weight and tone up. A.K.A. fight the advances of times and the certainty of gravitational effect. Chai tea has a ridiculous amount of calories, not to mention too much caffeine and sugar. And don’t get me started on the oddity of drinking cow’s milk (not something I’d considered before I met The Doctor and he brought it to my attention) where we are literally stealing food from a baby. Although odd that I don’t have the same aversion to cheese made with milk allowed to go rancid or meat, quite literally the baby itself.
I ordered it today though because I’m weak and have distinct willpower issues. Plus hot tea just sounds good when reading, which is what I’m here to do at the coffee shop nearly three hours before the rest of my writer’s group will be here. My tea is too hot to drink at the moment, so I elected to let it cool before I crack a book. Hence why I’m writing another slice of life I’ll probably never let anyone read. But maybe I will. Even though I had something to drink on the train (still Vonnegut, still Hocus Pocus) it feels weird to sit in anyone’s coffee shop and read and not drink coffee or tea or some specialty beverage that has made coffee shops a daily staple in peoples’ lives for the last several decades. Especially since the nineties. That would be 1990s. Just in case someone does read this in, say, 100 plus years from now.
other writers through humor and simple instruction.