panic is over at my place

tired, cold, and hungry

because it’s as pervasive as
an irregular chord stuck in your head
the notes in panic, staff lines shuddering,
accidentals like scalpels and dynamics in rhythm
only with the screech and screams of Doppler-like thoughts and Doppler-like pain and Doppler-like fear back and forth and back and forth and
the cacophony makes cold feet hurt tripping along.

reheated coffee

i’m just hungry
just hungry for a rich life and success that can not come will not come when i am full
when i am full of fear and unrest and failure and i want
to throw up, first, because i cannot
swallow it down.


Because I, and many of my peers, colleagues, and supervisors all over the world drink this black gold everyday, all day, and are chemically and behaviorally reliant on it for our daily functions…

The happiness and pride these people take in their coffee feels so much more genuine than the, at times hostile, song and dance the coffee geeks and small-batch packagers that I live around do. At most, the people around me teach me something about coffee in their weird, myopically western way.

Also, to balance out this anthropological episode, I bring you

So be careful with your intake and try to get your body’s worth of sleep!

At CIA Starbucks, even the baristas are covert

The hilarity when secrecy and customer service collide. I kind of want to work for the CIA Starbucks, not gonna lie.

If it weren’t in the middle of no where, being able to drink coffee with analyists and international go-betweens, intelligence experts, and cartographers practicing new languages and getting interviewed sounds just about ideal.

“The baristas go through rigorous interviews and background checks and need to be escorted by agency “minders” to leave their work area. There are no frequent-customer award cards, because officials fear the data stored on the cards could be mined by marketers and fall into the wrong hands, outing secret agents.”

Perhaps I’m just a sucker for a secret.