Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Too much coffee - day 2 of 1000 word challenge

1000 word task Part two - the day after

There is a writer’s website that challenges writer’s to write 1500 words per day and make them make sense and make them part of a continuing story (I am presuming the story is your own). I forget the name of the website (mostly because my brain strives to keep me from trying to do insane things such as the previously mentioned challenge). I was at an open mike night held monthly at a local library when the main speaker (an actual published poet) asked if any one had any questions. One person in the audiance of ten or so, asked if she, the published poet, wrote everyday. She said no. (which was what my inner sloth wanted to hear) But then she said she knew of a website run by a writer’s group that challenged writers to do what I have described in the first sentence of this essay. I promptly wrote down the name of that website and my subconscious decided such knowledge could be dangerous so I washed it in the last load of laundry.
I guess that I could Google ‘writer’s groups’ or ‘1500 word challenge’ but up till now I have resisted the urge. Why ? Because doing anything everyday other than eating or breathing makes that activity seem like work and work takes the fun out of anything, especially what your are working on. I think that writing is fun so I never want to view it as work. But the reality is that my mind wanders so much that if I do not have a schedule or routine I wind up not doing things I want to do. Many are the days (lately) that I have forgotten to eat breakfast and lunch.
I begin to notice this around three or four in the afternoon when I start to run down. A routine that I do have is drinking coffee.
I know that should cut down to about three pots a day but I can’t especially in this modern day world where there are two coffee shops per mile, coffee shops in bookstores, and even coffeeshops in department stores/malls . I feel like a heroin addict in a poppyfield. I have to have my fix.
I am not the trendy, new age type of coffee snob. I drink black coffee, no sugar, no cream, no sweet ‘n low, no alcohol, and no shots of espresso. I drank black coffee back in the days when it was fifty cents a cup and the cup was bottomless. (and gas was under a buck a gallon). I don’t think that Starbucks or Dunkin Doughnuts coffee is better coffee than that brewed at home. I drink coffee hot, luke-warm (is there such a thing as Matthew-warm, Mark-warm or John-warm ?) or cold. I drink cowboy coffee (grounds included in the cup), over-brewed coffee (thats been sitting there all day), and instant coffee. I even will drink Decaf. I got to have my fix.
I once had a friend who tried to help me go cold turkey on my coffee habit. She said that an herbal tea called Mate (accent over the e, pronounced Mah-tay) cuts the craving for caffeine. What she did not know was that I do not have a caffeine addiction, I have a COFFEE addiction. She locked me in a room with nothing but pillows and that foul hebal brew and waited as I went through my withdrawal. It was not a pretty site.
I raved and I craved. I even tried to drink the herbal stuff but like a kid who was promised candy and given vegetables (not good vegetables either, icky ones like creamed spinach and turnips) I spit it out immediately. I cursed, I pleaded, I rolled on the floor in agony. I felt like my head was going to explode (and that was all in the first two minutes). I ranted, and I began to see things (I saw cups of ghostly coffee floating in the room but like king Tantalus, I was not able to reach them). I cried. I felt myself turning into an animal (an aardvark I think). I blacked out.
When I came to I found myself in an unearthly place, room filled with brilliant white light and sweet harp music. There was a beautiful woman dressed in white, she had wings and radiant yellow hair.
“Welcome.” she said without speaking, “I am Javajoebean, the goddess of coffee.” She waved her hand and there appeared a beautiful white table and on that table was an urn made of the finest silver and in that urn was the wake-up drink of the gods - coffee. Somehow I knew all this instantly. “All this is yours.” I was in heaven.
But then I noticed something - something awful - there were no cups. The moment I realized this I knew - I wasn’t in heaven, I was in hell. She laughed a nasty laugh and shouted so loud my ears hurt.
“NO MORE COFFEE FOR YOU!”
She began to sing: (to the tune of NO TIME LEFT FOR YOU by the Guess Who)
No more Coffee for you, no more coffee for you .You got got got no coffee, no coffee, no coffee. No coffee for you who who who (repeated over and over again)
I fell onto the floor in an uncontrollable spasm, my stomach felt as if I was gut-punched. Something alien was inside of it trying to break its way out. It was my inner sloth. He poked his head through and told the goddess to turn down the music, some people are trying to sleep here, gosh darn it. (Editor’s note: the last three words before this editor’s note have been edited to make this story PG (politically good) The truth is that what the sloth really said made the goddess’s ears burn and eyes cry and mouth hang open in a combination of horror and surprise that a sloth could speak such words or even speak at all or even be awake). At that moment, I blacked out.
I woke up in bed alone drenched in sweat. There was a note pinned to the pillow. It said:
You have finished typing 1000 words today.
The END.

2 comments:

Soulsearcher said...

Where DO you come up with your ideas?? Good job! I always enjoy reading your rants, oops, I mean stories! Did you have some coffee before you wrote this?

Can't wait for the next 1000 words.

Soulsearcher said...

After reading this, I took the time to google "1500 word challenge." Some interesting, if unexpected, things came up like this 100 word story challenge. Check out podcasting.isfullofcrap.com

For some reason I think you'd like it...

About Me

I am a crabby old man who hates everything
or
I am a tiny wonderer in a large world
or
I am a young hippie tree-hugger
or
I am a mid-life crisis disaster area.
or
I am an attitude of stillness waiting for a wind.
or
I have not decided yet.