1.1.1

After coffee has gone cold, it begins to taste as though someone dropped brownie crumbs into a glass of water and swirled it all up.

I should not have thought that. I look into the coffee cup and think I might barf. I pour it down the drain.

The night is still in control of the sky outside, and even though it it morning for me, I can still see stars outside my kitchen world. As I rinse out my coffee cup, I wonder who else has glanced up at those stars over the decade. Oh, what an insightful poet I am. I now think that perhaps I could be the corniest person awake on my side of the world.

My kitchen is bright, the yellow walls reflecting the light around the room as if daylight was streaming in. Our kitchen, I correct myself. Not that no one else is around to claim it. My roomates are still all fast asleep, their own adventurous dreams greatly outweighing my cold coffee in importance. I never have been able to make coffee, even the instant stuff seems beyond the reach of my intelligence. In fact, food of all kinds seems to be beyond my comprehension. I eat breakfasts of apples and lunches of carrots because raw food is infinitely better than anything that I could make. The one instance of grilled cheese I tried ended in the firefighters explaining how to light a gas stove. I choose a banana for breakfast.

I set my foot outside the door as the stars are disappearing. Thirty minute walk to the studio. No one else in my studio will be leaving their homes for hours yet. The best time to be getting work in is when the sun and myself are the only ones communicating. Time to get started.