i woke to a coffee explosion. not a coffee enema but a blast of coffee grinds and splattered coffee splashed about the kitchen counter. i have a cuinisart cofee maker which is somewhat more complicated than other machines i‘ve owned. it has many pieces. one must put the coffee beans in the cup thingy which is placed on the blade, and one must put a lid on that cup thingie. that‘s 2 pieces. the the filter basket and a cover/lid for said filter basket, for 4 pieces. and the caraf, which is metal, has to be placed in the right spot, which seems simple enough but i have on occasion placed it just off center or otherwise away from where it needs to be. to receive the coffeeflow. and then one must our the water in. all these little steps create opportunities for error, esp since i usually perform this setup ritual as the last thing i do before going to bed at night, so i am tired, sometimes i am drunk, i am often ambivalent about the task, but i religiously perform it nightly because for some reason i simply hate doing it first thing in the morning. and i like to use the coffeemaker as my alarm clock. this is not on account of the sound it makes when it grinds the coffee at 9am each day, though the sound of the machine is really quite loud, like a vacuum cleaner, but i can simply not hear it from the bedroom whence i sleep, whence i slumber, whence i dream these starry dreams. my “alarm“ is the whiff of coffee sailing through the apartment and into my waking face. said whiff sailed on schedule today but i had no way of knowing until later that the coffee had exploded, spewed,made a disaster of itself. i forgot to put in the filter basketand its lid, so the coffee grinds got poured straight over the caraf and the water poured downover that… onto the counter. crisis. shame. disgrace. waste. ah well, all the quicklier i shall get to the 40oz monstrous bag of coffee i got at costco last week.
i keep having dreams about myself talking like a learned lecturer, a scholar, a master of some arcane realms of knkowledge. i listen to myself in these dreams, surprised at how smart i am, and from that portion of hte mind which monitors dreams and tries to remember them i tell myself to write this down, document it, but i always fail, because the eloquent litanies i deliver in these dreams are strictly gibberish, eloquent in the dreamscape but an empty echo in the conscious state.
Earl is on hisway. i hope we get 190mph winds and apocalyptic tidal waves that wash away Manhattan abd allow Mannahatta to rise again. Alas, Ibet we get a few wind gusts and some clouds.
i got my eyes examined today, and next week i get to see the retinal specialist/surgeo who will jam metal spoons into my eyeballs and dilate and make me blind and speak in cryptic ways about my fading macula and rotten vision. i know, i know. today i hear i should get progressive or bifocals, or at least think about it, as is typical for individuals of my age.i still plan to live forever but the doctor made vague references to the “plateau“ of 20 years from now at which most humans with corrective lenses need bifocals or progressive lenses of some sort. plateau. death. suicide. oedipus. cyclops.
