Mikes Writing

Tuesday writing and coffee

Starting the morning with words seems always right. In the journal first. The morning words seem to start the conversation with self. There’s just something I truly love about starting something when the world outside our house seems taking a moment. I woke up at about 530 and it is before that Cambodian world starts the daily things. Kids running and playing. Adults doing the talking. I’d rather do the running and playing but age you know. I walk and fist bump instead. For whatever reason, I find the children here much more interesting than the adults. I think because the kids here are chaos agents, full of that randomness, joy, sorrow. Things somehow that seem to be taken away when they start adulting. Guess I still feel the things but inside. Inside resonates.

Coffee here is an intermediate step to the writing. Often the daily desire to write overtakes me with music or some renegade thought. I was writing this morning how I need the morning thoughts. My wife sleeps through the slight sounds and then wakes up. Grumbles in Khmer, Heads to start her morning with the words with whoever happens to strike her fancy. I have no words. I’ve often felt listening that somehow my words, desire to simply talk was taken away. Talk is a big thing here. I’m just a little sideshow.

I just let John Mayer have his way this morning. There’s something about his sounds and emotions and ways. I guess I love his voice and words. Mornings with John. I’ll take them. Sometimes replay them. My morning coffee here stalls out to only warm. I waited too long. Wrote a word too many. Its alright. I can leave in time. I’ll just play that song again. Why Georgia by John bounces and demands.

I watched a favorite nomad talk his day and night. A person that lives by his own ethic. Finding a life which seems so much richer inside and out compared to what he had before. We all find that nomad when we ditch a place because as he says

it no longer suited.

We all need to feel that. Whether it is some siren call of cities or the wilds. We need to find the wilds within. Then maybe spend some time writing them. Feeling them. I’ve never understood why people would just stay with things that did not suit them. When they felt they could have both more and less by simply going.

With that the Tuesday writing and coffee thing shifts its little gears. The morning walk will call. I’ll feel the cooler 25 degree day today. See you when I write again with a splendid iced americano. A place I just know I will go this morning. Summer Coffee calls me.

transition to coffee

This morning started with these pastries down the street I love. Then the walk. Now coffee. The coffee out is my thing. My nod to a morning when the rain stops and people get going.

summer coffee

It’s nice this morning having coffee here. Very quiet. Summer Coffee is one of the nicest places for me. Here it all seems to just work mornings. Nice surroundings. This Khmer person I met here I see often. She’s a manager here and her English is accomplished. We can just talk.

It’s nice to leave behind the house. The little artifacts of a life there sometimes I wonder about. It feels often like I don’t belong. Like I feel like this random spirit still. Strange and I’ve been here almost five years.

So I can turn to writing. Feeling my things from coffee towards. To a beautiful late September morning.

And words I have run out of this time.