My inner musings stand silent. Still isn’t always productive.
It reeks with noise as it scatters all hope for repose.
Planned, unplanned musing drenched atmosphere.
“It” being The Coffee house, stifling stimulation.
Is this what was planned for me today? Did fate walk me into this frame work woven into the hour, or did I by choice, like everyone here, weave myself into the atmosphere of this balanced social chaos?
Why did I come here? To discover that the coffee was good? To feel the rush of fairtrade organic coffee spin me into a hyper stimulated thought thing?
This is unlike my usual existential musings. Normally I’d gather all the useless things Im doing with my life and crystallize it into a single activity called “my job,” dread the next twenty-years because I assume thats where I’d be, then die. Yet, locked in this moment of this social setting, a mere spur of the moment thing, here I am, just floating above, or drowning in the noise of life.
I’m calm, not quite right, a little dizzy (must be the coffee) with directionless chatter…elevating the creative vibration within this lighthouse of stimulation:
Through the fog the creatives walk towards the light, towards the rock they crash and find that here their thoughts can reign.