instead of spewing words that sound good together, i decided that starting today i’ll write about things that are of relevance to promoting world peace and general goodwill for all of creation. yeah. the broken coffee cafe was finally going to contribute something good for all humanity — all the necessary information designed to end suffering and answer the ever-surfacing question of what the purpose of our existence is. is it to merge with the numinous, the divine? is it to further our ascent into the upward golden spiral, where we finally merge with the great creator? it is to evolve spiritually and to transcend the need for our physical forms?
my mind is primed. juices flowing, cogs turning smoothly as a well-oiled engine, pistons propelling all possibilities, channeling all of this to manifest my vision on this particular page, on this particular hour.
the thinking, processing part of my brain is now in overdrive, force-feeding my consciousness with visions of glorious treatises on how the entire world can achieve lasting peace and eradicate poverty and exterminate the root of all greed.
the answers are served in a tottering pile on a bone-china saucer.
good old ADHD (a.k.a. Old Ade) might have caught wind that something was brewing in my inner sanctum. he does have the key to the place (us being best buds since a long way back and all), and he let himself in… shambling through the darkened passageway and plonking himself in his usual roost on my left shoulder. quite the ideal spot for lounging the whole day, whispering his valuable adages and commentaries into my ear.
“wassup, feyoh?” Old Ade asked in his snuffling, wheezy voice. every time Old Ade spoke, i am reminded of a basset hound. don’t ask me to explain. it’s been that way ever since.
“oh, hi Old Ade. i’m busy with upgrading the quality of the Broken Coffee Cafe. I am making a treatise on world hunger right now. See these Venn diagram and three-dimensional bar charts with multicolored legends? I’m going to explain to the whole world how we can channel just a portion of the resources of the richer nations and…”
Old Ade nodded in his unhurried way. “Yeah, sounds awesome. And since you’re already online, just open a new tab on your browser. One of your friends on Facebook tagged a picture of you. Quite hilarious pose, by the way.”
“Really?” I squeal as I clicked on my bookmark for the site. The photo was there, alright. And I simply had to “like” it. But my hair looked funny in the picture, so I had to comment on it, too.
“That’s hilarious, right?” Old Ade said from his stoop. “By the way, that’s not the only photo where you’re tagged. Actually there are three pics. And your coworker commented on another one.”
I simply must look at the other photos and also check if the comment is in my favor. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the tottering pile of ideas on the small saucer came crashing down.
Old Ade still had another news for me. “You know,” he ventures after I typed in my third “LOL” on FB’s comment bar. “An ice cream cart is parked outside. I heard it has mocha flavor. Your favorite, remember?”
Mocha ice cream!
with Old Ade riding on my shoulder, I zipped out to the camp’s gate where an ice cream vendor beckoned. mocha ice cream in the morning rocks!
I finished the ice cream and nearly got back my resolve to finish my treatise on poverty. Old Ade chose the moment when I began guiding my feet back to the room to finish my writing. “See that dog?” He said. “He’s so cute, right? But he looks a bit lonely.” And I am not one who could ignore a lonely dog. So for the next quarter hour, I played tag with the charming tongue-lolling mongrel who also fetched sticks i threw out for him, and i scratched his belly which he offered up as a symbol of a newly formed bond between human and canine.
i definitely have to finish the treatise now. “hey, isn’t that a tree branch shaped like a fairy?” Old Ade had a talent for detecting unusual shapes in tree trunks, branches, leaves, clouds, and tablecloth stains. one time he even had religious folks under his spell with the water-stained bed sheet found with the alleged imprint of a famous person’s face (a.k.a., the turin shroud). one day it’ll be the Great Jacko on a waterlogged ceiling.
so, when Old Ade says a branch looks like a fairy, it definitely looks like a fairy. i went closer to the tree for a closer examination to admire the perfect rendering of one of the Wee Folks. the possibility of providing an answer to the ills of the world seems very remote now.
but I can still do it, I know. just one hour will do, and i can probably write the preamble of my treatise. i was a bit reluctant to leave the charming Wee Folk on the Tree Branch. but i managed. and i think my willpower is strong enough to resist the further promptings from Old Ade to look at, check out, or listen to something within a hundred-meter radius.
i made it back to the room. and i sank in back to my seat. Old Ade was unusually quiet as I typed in the first few words of my preamble. then… a knock on the door.
“this is where I make my exit. see you next time, kid.” Old Ade shambled off my shoulder and disappeared (like dissolve before my eyes disappear). the door knocker poked her head into my inner sanctum.
“hey, feyoh. can you help me with something?” that something lasted for the entire afternoon and involved strenuous physical and mental exertion.
by the end of the day, i was exhausted to my bone marrow. i was in no condition to write a coherent sentence, let alone a treatise of life-changing proportions.
i guess the broken coffee cafe will forever remain a mixed bag of literary detritus. everything’s from scratch and what i scoop out from the lowest shelf of the fridge. still, the condiments are free and the coffee’s scalding hot. bon appetit.