One Night in the Life of Someone Other Than Ivan Denisovich

I am sitting in front of a Starbucks Coffee on MacFarland Boulevard, it's 8:54 p.m., I'm sipping on a grande Pike Place Blend, it tastes fresh, I'm actually listening to "I Ain't Mad At Cha" courtesy of 2pac and Danny Boy, I've got my camera with me, I've been taking pictures a lot recently, I'm wearing those same old brown Reeboks, I could really use some new ones, also I'm wearing my older pair of camo-print cargo shorts, my Mellow Mushroom t-shirt, it's actually from the Mellow Mushroom near the campus of USA in Mobile, not the one here, I'm not even sure if the one here sells shirts, but I figure they must, and I'm wearing the green sport coat that I got at the thrift store a few weeks back, at least I think it's a sport coat.

Maybe it's just a jacket. I never washed it, is that gross?

The song just ended, and it's moving on to a new one, that is, iTunes is, I just have it playing through my library on shuffle, and I don't think I'll skip this song, it's "We Will Rock You [Fast]" by Queen from disc 1 of "Queen on Fire: Live at the Bowl," that's their concert at the Milton Keynes Bowl in the early 80s, I don't really remember exactly. Is it Keynes or Keyes? I'm not sure of that either, but I'm sort of on a roll, so I don't figure I'll stop and check.

I came here tonight to do something that you might call "unwind" if you use all this exposition as your main evidence, but really I would say I'm pretty unwound as is, I've been feeling this way for some time now, at least in so far as you would consider the larger part of today to be "now." You know, I typically don't like it when I include two words in quotation marks so near to one another, but I don't think I mind this time around, because it was just necessary to convey the right connotation. Though really, I wish I would always write such that I never needed to utilize such denoted connotation, ha, how oxymoronic is that? I promise I wasn't even trying.

There are two people playing Go Fish with each other at the table 8 o'clock from my position, and they are smoking, I believe both of them are but I don't plan on turning those degrees to look right off the bat. I have never minded, don't mind, nor will I ever mind smokers, but it is sort of frustrating that I am down-wind from them. At least I hope I am, otherwise I would be left to come to the conclusion that they are rude, or no, just inconsiderate, or no, at the least oblivious. And oblivious is certainly fine, I would never blame someone for that. Is that fine?

I really like this song, even though I know I've heard it a million times. It's about halfway through Daft Punk's concert on the Alive 2007 tour at Cocachella, and I know I didn't spell that correctly, but I also know that if you really care to know you'll just go look it up for yourself, and that will be okay because you're on the computer if you're reading this and Google is just as far away from you as it is from me. Theoretically, at least. These two EMTs just ran out of the Starbucks a moment ago, got in their ambulance, and headed up 15th street, I guess east? Though really, I shouldn't say that, I don't think they were actually running, it was more of just a brisk walk. I don't blame them. Hurrying is hurrying no matter your pace, I say. And it wouldn't be my blame to blame, so to speak, in the first place. If there were even any blame. Though I don't suppose it would be too hard to imagine a case in which there would be blame to place: say a victim is stricken with some terrible injury, mortal if not treated in a hospital setting, and he or she has a finite amount of time before dying from the injury, and that amount of time is slighted thanks to the brisk walking of the driver of his or her ambulance, as opposed to running, that is to say, what could have been running. In that case, that very unnecessarily detailed and hypothetical case, I suppose if the EMT driving the van just so happened to later divulge his brisk walk to the ambulance from the Starbucks Coffee on MacFarland Boulevard to say, a loved one of the deceased, then there might be blame to place, maybe. But who's to say?

The flower said I wish I was a tree
The tree said I wish I could be a different kind of tree
The cat wished that it was a bee
The turtle wished that it could fly
Really high into the sky
Over rooftops and then dive
Deep into the sea
And in the sea there is a fish
A fish that has a secret wish
A wish to be a big cactus
With a pink flower on it
And the flower would be its offering of love to the desert
And the desert so dry and lonely that the creatures all appreciate the effort

I hope you didn't mind that indulgence. Am I a horrible person because I am happier now that the people who were sitting to my 7 o'clock left? I hope not. Or was it 8 o'clock? I just checked, it was 8, and the funny thing is, I don't really think I've turned in the time since they've left, I guess I just misjudged, but that's no matter, because to be honest with you I was considering calling it 7:30 in the first place, but I thought at the time that to be a little too specific for something such as calling a person's location in clock format.

I can't really decide if I have a surprised reaction to so many people visiting this Starbucks Coffee at this time of night. If I'm not surprised, I think I am entirely neutral. I act like it is entirely packed - it really isn't, but there is a long line. It's like people went mad when they realized they didn't have to go to the Ferguson Center for Starbucks Coffee, though I guess it would be outright silly and infactual to say they ever had to. Still, there is something about coming to a Starbucks Coffee location to do the deed of... you guessed it, drinking brewed coffee. That's honestly pretty much the only think I drink from here now. It is wonderful! I won't deny having treated myself to a pair of or a few Pumpkin Spice lattes since the season has been right, but brewed coffee alone is the trend I seem to fit.

That expression wouldn't make since if I weren't Joseph Florence, if this weren't "Dinosaur Eats Man," if you weren't my reader, and there are probably more necessary factors to consider, actually.

I guess the reason I typed all this was because I really just needed to say something, and I couldn't really think of anything of any one particular nature to talk about. I don't mean that in so much as I felt like I needed to oblige my blog itself, or even you, readers. Sorry if that sounds harsh to mention despite it being the truth, I just didn't want to lead you in incorrect understanding. Rather, I just sat here and typed because Joseph really needed himself to do so.

I need to write an e-mail to some one concerning tomorrow night's AIRC meeting since we are going to have a par-pro driven debate of Chinese and Taiwanese relations, and I need to look over more problems before I take my physics test tomorrow, and I need to do work in Second Life before I end up having nothing to bring to the table when I meet up with Dr. Thoma, Tyler, and Andrew tomorrow. Technical difficulties. This research project will continue after a word from our sponsors. But for just a little bit longer I'm going to be here. Because it is cold, and my coffee is really not hot anymore, and "Suffragette City" by David Bowie is playing over my headphones, not the speakers above me, thought it did play over the speakers the last time I was here, and because I might get more coffee before I leave, and because something inside me feels like I need - read: need - to take a picture or two of something, goodness only knows what, before I leave.

The EMTs just came back. I hope no one was hurt. I don't guess his brisk pace affected anything but how quickly he could make it back to Starbucks Coffee on MacFarland Boulevard to get back in line for some beverage. I hope he gets just plain brewed coffee. This was a good cup of Pike Place Blend. There's someone else smoking at my 8 or 7 or 7:30, but he's making it a point to blow it far away from everyone downwind. His companions, who just arrived on the scene from inside, don't seem to be so considerate. And this smoke smells worse. Maybe there's just more of it. By the way, his brisk pace could have also affected, even if no one was hurt, how quickly someone received reassurance of the fact that they were going to be okay. But they are, I assume, so all is well. I hope he doesn't get called again.. at least not before he makes it out with his drink.

I really love Enya and I can't wait for Christmas and I want to play Rock Band.

"Hiroshima (B B B Benny Hit His Head)" just came on. Headphones again, a shuffled iTunes library, not the speakers. I'll listen to the album on the way back home.

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