Every morning I’ve been writing as I eat breakfast and have my morning caffeinated beverage of choice. Some of the recent beverages: iced matcha with coconut water, iced matcha with soy, iced soy latte with honey. Writing in the morning starts my day off in a gently productive manner, but I also question whether I have anything to say of worth before ten in the morning.
I’m currently reading Dream Catcher by Margaret Salinger and rereading The Idiot by Elif Batuman. I’m the real idiot in this scenario because I spilled coffee on Dream Catcher, which is a library book. She’s slightly disfigured on a surface level but still very readable. My copy of The Idiot is one I rescued from the free box of books outside of Iliad Bookstore. She was also water damaged, not by my hands, with a crumbling cover and bent corners. I love her dearly. I’m so sickeningly sentimental that someone could offer to trade me a brand new copy and I’d refuse.
I took my books along with me today to the farmer’s market. I’m trying out different ones in LA to see which one fits. I’m always thrilled to acknowledge that, at twenty-five, my main joys in life come from sitting in cafes, cooking strange little meals, reading, farmers markets, browsing bookstores and singing around the house. At the farmers market I bought a green plum tea (fermented in local honey, smells like those Asian jelly cups. It’s supposed to be good for digestion and nutrient absorption), mini avocados, cherries, one apricot, artichoke hummus, Medjool dates, and glass noodles.
After that we went to Canyon Coffee, which was overflowing with people as usual. The pistachio matcha on tap is worth any form of mental distress you may experience while visiting on a busy Saturday. I would like to go just once without seeing an influencer and having to fight for a table though. Today I got an iced latte with pistachio milk. Then we went to an estate sale–not much to see, mostly crumbling books and old dishes. They said they weren’t selling any of the furniture until they sold the stuff sitting atop it (?).
This post is called Saturday blues because I’ve spent half the day trying not to cry, which coincidentally burnt off at the same time as the early June gloom. Every morning till just past noon the sky is painted in an endless stretch of white. It feels very suffocating, with none of the soft, grey promise of rain. I’m dealing with a health flare up that has me wanting to wither away, but a little sunlight reminds me of how lovely it is to be alive despite it all.