2 November 2011

November 2, 2011

I like coffee stains. I like the color and the circumference, and I like that it proves I drink coffee, which I still think is pretty cool despite being 24 years old. It still feels very adult. I probably drink 5 cups a day. I have a clear mug that Janessa got me for my birthday. It has a caffeine molecule on it that I can’t even begin to describe. I drink my coffee black. People can see how much creamer I use, and I want to be a guy who drinks black coffee. It’s become another way of being self-aware.

A few years ago I worked at a job where I did nothing all day. I’d pour myself five cups of coffee with varying amounts of creamer and I’d paint landscapes on printer paper. Some people said I was very good. Some people said I should become an artist or something, but they were just being nice, they were just trying to think of something to say about the 37 paintings I’d stapled to my cubical wall.

I once painted a barn with passion tea lemonade.

Last week we had a work party at a driving range and somebody said I should become a professional golfer. I was in this rhythm. I didn’t know them well enough to know if they were joking, so I said, “Uh huh,” and smiled.

We were talking about salesmen today. I said I thought it would be hard to be a salesman and not lose your soul. Anna said there are good salesmen and there are bad salesmen. It depends on what you’re selling.

I’m aware that this isn’t very good, but that’s not the point. The point is that I didn’t delete it just now.

I’m thinking about getting obsessed with Kurt Vonnegut for awhile.

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