#coffeecupcrossroads
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Corner Bakery, 18th & H - coffee and bobblehead
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Au Bon Pain, 17th & Pennsylvania - coffee and bobblehead
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City Bites - coffee and bobblehead
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April 4, 2011
Nature gave us one tongue and two ears so we could hear twice as much as we speak. – Epictetus
#116 cup of coffee: Starbucks, Eastern Market Station, Washington, DC
Coffee = Tribute Blend
1-4 scale, body =2, sweetness=2, acidity=3
Potential café owners must love music. If a potential café owner is asked her favorite music, and she says Anything, or Whatever is on the Radio, then the potential café owner should cancel the café business loan, and open a pharmacy.
When I lived in Seattle, baristas with the best taste in music worked at Caffe Ladro in the Fremont District. They introduced me to Interpol, and Everything But the Girl. As the local independent record shop was a couple blocks away from this café, which was a couple blocks away from my apartment, a triangular relationship developed. From the café I walked to the record store, bought the CD of the excellent music I just heard, and then walked home to play it. All activities, which included walking to the café, buying the latte, walking to the record store, buying the CD, and walking home, were easily completed within 20 minutes. The baristas deserved huge tips from the record store owners because of the impact their music choices had on patrons who were impulse music buyers.
I remember a time I sat in Caffe Ladro, and I was filled with energy as if every cell was activated by a very small current of electricity. I felt this way because I was reading a great book, I was caffeinated, and I was listening to great music. I used a postcard with Monet’s Bordighera on the front as the bookmark. As it was my favorite painting, I couldn’t stop looking at it, and imagining myself in a city on a beautiful sunny day. On a whim I stopped by the record store for a music suggestion. I handed the postcard/bookmark to the owner, and asked him to sell a CD to me that reflected the feeling within that painting. He and another staff mulled over the potential choices, and asked a few clarifying questions. As it was painted by Monet he immediately thought classical music as the best choice, but then recommended Moon Safari by Air, which is a French electronica duo.
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Cosi, Bethesda, MD - coffee and bobblehead
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April 3, 2011
People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care. – Mark Twain
#115 cup of coffee: Cosi, Bethesda, Maryland
Coffee = House Blend
1-4 scale, body =3, sweetness=2, acidity=2
The quote doesn’t reflect gifts to charities, only. It reflects a desire to be understood not as a demi-god, but as a guide; there is an element of humility involved. Humility is a good place to start a conversation as it doesn’t negate a person’s intelligence or expertise, but it introduces a level of neutrality as a conversation starts.
I met enthusiastic professionals, and people who called themselves teachers, and in both cases I met people who should not teach others. Some of these types know the subject. However, some may not want to share knowledge, and some share knowledge before gauging what knowledge is necessary.
Empathic talking is a skill, but luckily some people are born with it. I learned empathic listening when I was a crisis counselor, and that skill has helped me to reflect back to the talker what I’m hearing. It helps the focus of the conversation. An empathic talker is someone who is aware of the speed and the understanding within a conversation. She is able to pull back on her enthusiasm if it’s obvious that the listener misunderstands what is said. Then as a guide she directs the listener through the weedy undergrowth of misunderstanding until the listener reaches the spacious meadow of clarity.
Ultimately, it speaks to the goodness of a person. We all understand that knowledge is power, but to a good person, knowledge is a gift to be shared at a time when it is needed. Who would like to hear a lecture about car maintenance at a garden party mostly attended by bicyclists?
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April 3, 2011
Above all, you must illumine your own soul with its profundities and its shallows, and its vanities and its generosities . . . – Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
#114 cup of coffee: Quartermaine Coffee Roasters, Bethesda, Maryland
Coffee = House Blend
1-4 scale, body =3, sweetness=3, acidity=3
Part of me thinks questions, What Did You Do During the Summer?, and How Would You Describe Your Sneakers?, should be banned from elementary school writing. From the time we are taught to write, we are not taught to ask ourselves the questions that mean the most to us. Also, those questions don’t reflect the colorful and active imagination already well used in younger children as evidenced by their ability to create ice cream machines out of flipped over bicycles.
Those elementary school questions were boring, and resulted in boring responses from bored participants. However, they may have been part of the curriculum because skill building starts with the fundamentals. For instance, the jazz musicians that created the musical genre were trained in classical music. Also, many of us were taught the works of Dr. Seuss, and then Shakespeare to learn the rhyme, rhythm, and patterns of poetry.
During my last semester of college I attended a poetry writing course. The only way to receive a C or worse was to be absent from class. The poetry reflected the student, and as a result the poetry could not fail. Our poetry was critiqued by others within the class, and the lack of content cohesiveness or flowing rhythm was up for review. As aspiring poets first and foremost we weren’t trained in critiquing others’ poetry, and the feedback wasn’t useful.
What was very useful was the freedom to write what I wanted to write. For one poem I wrote my jealousy in images of cow tipping. I never tipped a cow, and I never saw a cow tipped, but I heard the phrase, and it seemed to fit. That poem reflected a spewed raw emotion molded into the first image that came to me. It wasn’t polished, and to some it may not have been poetry, but I remember the glorious feeling of writing in stream of consciousness. A few years later I realized that stream of consciousness writing is only the first step of many steps towards a crafted poem.
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Crumbs Bake Shop, Union Station - coffee and bobblehead
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April 2, 2011
A wise man is he who does not grieve for those things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has. – Epictitus
#112 cup of coffee: Crumbs Bake Shop, Union Station, Washington, DC
Coffee = Unknown
1-4 scale, body =2, sweetness=3, acidity=3
When I was a sophomore in high school I dreaded reading Shakespeare. The rhythm of the words was catchy, but it wasn’t completely within my touch. I could remember the words, but it’s not as if I internalized them. Part of me thought Shakespeare was above me – I was too vulgar a creature to deserve to understand his works. Only students who wore scarves and discussed literary criticism were allowed to understand Shakespeare. I was a country bumpkin living in suburban New Jersey.
As with many things in life I decided to befriend the monsters that plagued me. My last semester of college I attended a Shakespeare class. It wasn’t focused on anything but Shakespeare, and I carried his complete works around with me 3 days a week. He was a prolific writer, as we know, and as I carried his works around my arm muscles grew to staggering proportions. Luckily, the class lasted only a semester.
The teacher’s enthusiasm for the subject was infectious. I fell in love with Shakespeare’s rhythm as if it was an intrinsic human song. I became jealous of those that stood in front of audiences and recited chorus or monologue as if they were knighted by the Queen of England. I color coded my pens and notebooks with my classes that semester, and I can still see many notes of green marking up my copy of The Riverside Shakespeare.
The highlight of the class was a movie recommendation. Henry V, with Kenneth Branagh playing the lead character was released in small movie theatres that last semester of college. The actors wore their parts with gold and silver. It was the first move I saw in the movie theatre twice. Viewing this movie full of pageantry, poetry, and intrigue was a great way to end my undergraduate career. I didn’t read the play after the movie, but I have it sitting on my shelf in The Riverside Shakespeare in case I crave it one day.
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Capital City Cheesecake - coffee, and BRob bobblehead
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April 2, 2011
For books continue each other, in spite of our habit of judging them separately. – Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own.
#111 cup of coffee: Capital City Cheesecake, Takoma Park, MD
Coffee = Sumatra
1-4 scale, body =3, sweetness=2, acidity=3
I never understood the idea of a literary canon. When I was a sophomore in college I was first exposed to a literary canon when I attended a class on Ezra Pound, Wallace Stevens, and T.S. Eliot. I don’t remember them as part of the same canon, but maybe based on the times they were? Maybe I remembered the phrase from that class, but it was used in another context. No matter how I first heard that phrase, the idea of a canon stumps me.
We all need to simplify ideas in order to understand them. What’s ironic is that those who subscribe to the idea of a literary canon, are trying to hoist themselves in the literary world by simplifying ideas. When I hear, doesn’t she write like the modernists, or don’t you remember the existentialists, I wonder why I’m asked these questions at all. Did the individual author write a good book? Would you recommend one book?
There are similarities between writers who write at a certain time, in a certain location. It could be because they read their work to each other. If 3 authors read their poetry to the same 4th friend, and the friend likes her poetry a certain way, wouldn’t the 4th friend give similar feedback to the 3 authors? As a result those 3 authors may have written poetry reflective of their experiences, and their desire for expression, but they ended up with poetry that was similar to their friends.
I agree with Virginia Woolf in that we are influenced by what we have read. As a result it’s possible that content, a tone, a situation written in one book, may be similar to another; not in a plagiaristic way, but in an inspired way. However, the best writing is not similar to others – it will open a new door for the reader to walk through.
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April 1, 2011
She will write in a rage where she should write calmly. She will write foolishly where she should write wisely. – Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own.
#110 cup of coffee: Cosi, 1501 K Street NW, Washington, DC
Coffee = House Blend
1-4 scale, body =2, sweetness=3, acidity=2
One of the most difficult aspects of being a writer is letting go of a good phrase. Sometimes when I sit down to write poetry I do it to release a surge of passion I feel in an Aha! moment. Sometimes those moments seep into my brain on the walk home from work, or when I’m looking at Maryland pass by me as I ride the metro into work. I used to schedule time to look at books of photographs or books of paintings with the expectation that I will receive a moment of inspiration I could mold into a poem. Ironically these moments, these quick flashes of insight are surrounded by minutes upon minutes of fluffy chaotic dribble. I wade through this goo to find an exposed phrase worthy of salvage even without the protection of the fluffy words. Sometimes I realize a phrase is just that – a phrase of words, that doesn’t translate into the substance of a poem, and I must rip up the words to prepare myself for more inspiration.
One of the ways I practice receiving moments of inspiration is by writing haiku. Haiku is moments of inspiration, only. If someone writes about the moment as if it is a to-do list then it’s not haiku. However, even the skilled haiku poet writes pseudo-poems that need to be discarded. The skilled poet creates a lifestyle that encourages the flow of words that eventually form poems.
Skilled writers have their rituals; maybe they walk before they write, maybe they only write using a certain pen. It’s amazing the number of rituals – it’s as if they are superstitious baseball players always swinging a bat once before they walk up to the plate. Writers and baseball players alike know the value of being prepared and focused – to relinquish time without a purpose, and create walls that house empty space ready to be filled with inspiration.
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Starbucks, 17th NW & Pennsylvania - coffee and BRob bobblehead. I brought the coffee back to my office.
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Firehook Bakery - coffee
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Firehook Bakery - coffee
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March 23, 2011
Be like a postage stamp, stick to one thing until you get there. – Josh Billings
#104 cup of coffee: Firehook Bakery, K St. NW and 17th St. NW, Washington, DC
Coffee = House Blend (R.I.P. Elizabeth Taylor)
1-4 scale, body =3, sweetness=2, acidity=3
The most surprising effect of this project is my renewed interest in Washington, DC.
I worked in Washington, DC for 7 years, but I rarely explored it. Sometimes I would sit and read on the second floor of the Renwick Gallery as it’s a couple blocks from my work. Usually, once the workday was done DC was in my metro train’s rearview mirror.
By participating in these coffee adventures I walked down streets I never knew existed, explored districts I didn’t know existed, discovered new transit routes along the metro, found coffee roasters I didn’t know existed, and tasted roasts I didn’t know existed.
As a result of this coffee project, and The East Coast’s Last Chance Latte Log, I know I must always be a part of a coffee project. I started to think of what I will create for the next project that will start winter solstice 2011. It will involve caffeinated drinks, but most likely not plain coffee. Life has to have little luxuries and espresso drinks are the little luxuries in my life. The project will include analysis of reading and incorporate writing. Maybe I’ll write book reviews, and write poetry. I plan to include podcasting. I will continue to start new projects year after year until I have a portfolio that will make graduate school administrators drool.
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