a despondent coffee bean anticipating its consumption
04 Aug, 2014
This hotel is rife with whiz-bang creators. At any hour someone with an opinion on Salavador Dali is likely to state it from behind a counter, since so much of the staff identifies with being an artist of some sort. Certainly, there is an official resident artist and an official resident narrator, but there are many more creative Pfister residents than just that. Take the three concierges: Peter is our resident costume constructor and actor, Greta is our resident painting gallery owner and Roc is our resident live raconteur with a background in teaching English.
I have been here three months and I still haven’t met all of the musicians that lurk here.
I suppose if one hoped to find the classic bohemian employed by the Pfister, the most stereotypically logical place to look would be near the coffee in the café. Indeed, barista Adam identifies as a creative writer and a musician. He has the samples to prove it too, once, he handed me my receipt with two links to his work.
The song “Coins and Bullets” on the bandcamp site is particularly evocative of late fall angst.
Adam reads this blog. One day he told me he wanted me to write him a letter and handed me my receipt with a request written in his precise and gentle script.
This is the pinnacle of my life. This is the pinnacle of my usefulness.
The pulverization ritual is nigh.
The spiritual gain of the pulverization ritual???
To become grit and aroma,
I will vanish like steam on a hot day
like health from a hot dog
like they have always said oh,
c e a s e l e s s
w o e b e g o n e
there is no other truth anymore
except: I am a bean and resemble a turd from an unidentified rodent.
Whims of taste supply and demand me to be shred, submerged, percolated, strained, stained, ingested, burped, excreted,
sold en masse
never remembered as the soul that I am
now roasting in a barrel.
This is my last moment to recall how
before my memory burns away
before I knew death would come
before I knew cruelty could happen at all
before all else there was gestation
soft pod skin seal,
ambition to make mom tree proud by my expansion,
“I’ll get so big that I’ll obscure our cacao pod neighbors!!!”
Ah, the laughter of caffeine cliques
so fruitless now
that we all