Tripio The Novel

How I found my mind, brewed some coffee, and learned to write novels.


I’m now finished with “Back outta the World” and feel good about it. I don’t really mean I feel great about the stuff on the pages but rather how it got there. Plus, I had the thought towards the end that I really learned how to write – why then and there?- About 90 pages in? It was more than a decision to move away from the passive voice of Jay. Maybe I hit my 10,000 hours? Who knows? Just noted it for the record”

Journal entry from Sunday March 29, 2020 5:59 a.m.




No cap and gown

So there you have it. No diploma, certificate, accreditation, grade or outside validation in any way shape or form. In fact as I searched the couple journals I thought this entry originated from, I told myself it would sound more meaningful when I did find it and read it. The entry is fairly mundane. ‘Just the facts, mam” .

There is no entry from the previous days or weeks that hinted or foreshadowed the above entry. I read it again just now and doubt if you all will be convinced all that much that I believe every syllable, that I believe that the writing I have been doing since that entry on “Back outta the World”- BotW- has been something that I see as writing filled with opportunities to make the novel more interesting, engaging, intriguing and entertaining for the readers. And, just as important to me, that the writing is staying as true to my unique self as my dental records would be in case of a grisly accident involving, perhaps, a flaming sword.

As it turned out, the key words in the entry are not even words. Words are the thing in writing. Numbers are the thing in math. Yet, on the momentous occasion of my realization that I feel like I learned how to write, specifically novels, it is the numbers that tell the story. Oh well, too late for a career change.

10,000 hours later

The 10,000 reference is from Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hours of “deliberate practice” theory. It can get complicated but means to me simply, one must put in the time.

The second number and the more personal and equally significant to me, is the year 2020. I wrote the first draft, or version, of BotW during the early 90’s while living in Chicago and working at an early Starbucks. This is one of the story lines that make up my first published novel, Tripio. More math will let one come to the conclusion that BotW was started before Tripio and will be published after. So, am I saying that I published Tripio AFTER learning how to write? Well, yes, in a way. But only because I had to. “Those are the facts, mam,”

A writing formula Time + Intention + novels

Sorry if this is starting to sound like a word problem in math. Yet, I wrote and published Tripio because of BotW. There could be not be one without the other -as books- in the journey of my life. I had to write Tripio to get to my 10,000 hours, to put in the time, to get back to Back outta the World, started over 20 years earlier. Make no mistake, Tripio is certainly worth buying and reading- it is about as honest a book a one will find out there- but I was still learning to write while writing it.

Again, where is the proof, the diploma, the certificate that proves that? There aint’ one. But after putting in the time, I know it to be true, I know the truth about BotW. Which to me make both books, and any future ones, worth writing and reading. Put in the intentional time (my phrase, not Malcolm’s) and when the time comes, you and only you will know when your own books will tell the truth back to you.

10,000 hours and counting

More facts, mam. This is a repost from early 2020. I am currently working to transform a series of short stories entitled Altonstreet and Philpatrick into a novel. In these stories I see more opportunity for improvement.  Since this original post I have added a thousand hours or so to the 10,000 noted earlier. That must mean A & P is going to be better than both Tripio and Botw. I am not sure. It’s going to be up to you to do the math when you read them.


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                         “Time + intention = novel






“What else was in it for me? Just to say I had done it? To look back in 20 years and then understand why I did it? That made as much sense as anything to me standing in the kitchen of a stranger’s house in Louisville.”                                                 

 – The excerpt above is Jay talking to himself in “Back outta the World.”

Three reasons why I write

  #1 I am having a great time looking back at me. Through the revising process, I am getting a clearer understanding of who I was, and who I am now. And perhaps most importantly, who I want to become. I do believe the newer, current me is writing a better Back outta the World than the one I wrote two decades ago. To put it simply, I see so many opportunities to improve. I see them just sitting there in the older version saying ‘change me, enliven me, describe me”. For example, it now drives me crazy that I wrote so much in the passive voice back then. This can be quite a humbling process, which in turn creates a nice vantage point to realize that we as people are never a finished product. And never will be. That wouldn’t be any fun now would it?

It is fun

  #2  It is fun!  My writing process is not a gut wrenching process. I do not spend hours searching for the perfect word. If I still used paper to write, I wouldn’t fill a waste basket with rolled up pages of crumpled pages of paper. I am not saying it easy. Therefore, I think it would be more accurate to say that, at least for me, one cannot be taught to write, but you can learn how to write.

I go at writing by first clearing, cleansing and energizing my mind. I begin to understand and notice my subconscious mind in order to trust it to supply me with what I need when I do sit down to write. It usually works. In this way, my time actually at the keyboard is productive. I am usually “in the zone”, having done most of my writing during yoga, mediation, on the cross-trainer, blogging or even while driving, cutting the grass or journaling.

My motivation

#3  I do for it me, me, me! I most likely will never sell enough books to be recognized by Amazon or whoever. Whatever. I not doing this for that type of validation as such.  The validation I seek cannot be measured by any instrument created by humankind. Sounds a bit pretentious, eh? Well, it ain’t. I have come believe that writing my fictions and blog helps me see myself. These writings are a mirror to look closely at who I am. You are reading words, I see a reflection. Totally selfish. I can look at myself all day and not be bored. You may be bored already. If so, there is always Twitter.

To clarify, I am writing to this mirror in order to produce a better reflection for me to look at. Yes, and I when leave the house and head into the world to share me, it will with the intention that I have a little bit better version to give to you all. I do this with the belief that most of the good in this world in done via small, nearly invisible acts of kindness or grace, performed on a daily basis. So, there you go.

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“Why do you       write?”, he felt compelled to ask








Funk off

A funny thing happened to me yesterday on the way to do my grocery shopping. This was after I went back inside to find my cloth face mask. As I drove off with my mask in the car I began singing aloud to an old Funk Compilation CD that I have been listening to recently. Take a moment now to say a gratitude that this is not a podcast.

 But seriously folks… Just before I left for the store I had checked my Amazon sales graph for Tripio. The arrow pointed downwards with a vengeance. Hmmm. Was this confirmation that Tripio sucks? Sure, if I let it be. Maybe it was also confirmation that I should keep up my writing. You are curious why I should keep it up exactly when the arrow points down? The very arrow that bestows approval and validation on Tripio and  by extension me, is telling me to quit? I would answer that I was telling external validation to funk off.

Who says?

 I was filled with song because my reaction to the arrow was confirmation of what I always claim; that I ain’t in this writing for money, fame and rankings. So, funk off, external validation. I’m not doing this for you.  To clarify, sleeping in for me that means getting up at 6:30 a.m. That night’s rest had a  significant part in boosting my spirits. I had nothing urgent to pull me out of bed to the keyboard.

When I was in the process of revising Back outta the World for the last time I would be pulled out of bed by the need to get it finished. Sometimes that meant my eyes would open as early as 4 a.m. My physical body was pissed, but got over it soon after I had my morning doppio. (never fear-I have an espresso machine at home). My emotional, spiritual and mental bodies were in charge then. Now with Back outta the World done, I decided to  give myself a break. After some contemplation, I decided to halt the search for an editor and take a break from longer form writing.  Well, I am still blogging and working on a short story or two. My four bodies had come to an agreement and I was able to sleep in.


Back outta the World

Funk me

    So here I was, singing along to “You dropped a bomb on me on the way to the store yesterday morning. My sense of self, my intention for all this writing had been confirmed. I have said all along that writing is merely one of the results of a well-tended Mind Garden. Of course, maintaining that garden is the hard part in all of this. The writing itself isn’t. My horrid singing validated my process and that intention. The mind garden was fertilized, watered and ready for the coming day. I am as good as my word. Which is pretty important if you are a writer.

If you are lucky to have read this post you may be thinking that you have read it before. It is indeed a repost. I have improved it here and there. Recently, my own mind garden was trampled. It has been beautifully restored and I am up early these days working on another writing project. The working title is “Altonstreet & Philpatrick”. The adventures of this pair of aspiring yet clueless writers is getting me up early these days. I am glad that it is.


                                                                                                                                             “May I help who’s next?”

  When my sons were much younger they loved dinosaurs. And so they loved animated series of movies starring a group of singing dinosaurs called The Land before Time. I watched those movies with my sons those twenty plus years ago on prehistoric format known as VHS. I had just left a career at a burning fuse of a coffee company called Starbucks. Why? Well, my historical fiction novel, Tripio was written partly to explore that. For today’s post I am focusing on that very time when most of the country was watching VHS, driving with both hands on the wheel and drinking coffee from gas stations – a country I now call The Land before Starbucks”.  

I can’t find a Starbucks

The land before Starbucks

In Tripio, Jay’s prehistoric coffee landscape does share much with the one in which the modern barista roams. Tripio is three plots and narratives alongside and intertwined with each other. The Starbucks growth narrative is told from a barista’s perspective. Jay starts out as a barista. And even when promoted up the chain to store manager, Jay remains a barista at heart. After being promoted Jay still takes pride in his performance on the espresso bar at his current store. He realizes that he must display mastery of the espresso bar for the customers and store functionality.

This was the time, I call it the land before Starbucks, when Jay (me) cared about how you drank your coffee. Yet, it was not even the first time, nor the last time I cared about how you drink your drip coffee, latte or mocha. I cared about how you took your coffee when I worked at The Oregon Street Coffee House, Boston Stoker, Brazilia Coffee, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble Cafe, Aramark Refreshment Services, Filterfresh Coffee, Hubbard and Cravens Coffee, Julian Coffee Roasters and Harvest Coffee Roasters.


In any case, all my coffee extensive and varied coffee experience came before I came to know blogging. In that way consider myself a dinosaur. Yet I also consider myself a heritage barista. A spiritual great uncle to thousands of baristas come and gone since the start of the first Bush presidency. And much like the singing dinosaurs, I once knew, I did go extinct. Unlike them, however, it was partially it was by choice.

A confession

I can very honestly say, I do not care how you take your coffee. You see, I’ve been there and done that for real. I once had to care about how you took your coffee because it earned me the money I had to make in order to keep food on the table, to feed my dino-loving sons. I HAD to know, memorize and prepare your coffee drinks to keep my income coming and my life going. Then, I truly cared about how you took your coffee.


The flip side is that I don’t care about how you take your coffee now. So, I am not to use coffee as click bait. This means that I care about you as readers and followers of this blog too much all to tell you I do care. I won’t pretend I want to know, now, just to get a couple cheap clicks. That honesty and work ethic kept me working in coffee for all those companies for about 25 years total. I will apply those traits to my career in blogging, no matter the duration.

Stepping off my high eohippus, I admit that I actually enjoy responding to click bait once in a while. Just don’t expect it from me here. I am reasonably sure that dinosaurs didn’t sing. And this coffee dinosaur doesn’t have to pretend like he can.

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 Some writing with your coffee?

It is not yet seven a.m. on Sunday morning. And I have been up for close to ninety minutes. This is my schedule. I have come to the conclusion that sleeping in is overrated. This is my day off and one hears a lot about how others relish the chance to “sleep in” on their off days. I can’t, even if I try, I can’t. So, I get up and make coffee. Or, I simply warm up the leftovers from the day before and get to work. I always, always, always have a cup of coffee near me when I write.


This brings me to Stephen Fry.  Why Fry? Well, I read once that when he was working on a screenplay for Peter Jackson he could not get going on it to save his skin. It took him awhile to understand the reason but it struck him that at the time he was working on the screenplay he was trying to give up smoking. Smoking energized his mind while at the same time the smoking ritual calmed and rewarded him as he wrote.  I feel almost exactly the same about my cups of coffee. This morning, I am wondering if I could have written Tripio without coffee?

No Starbuck, no coffee, no way.

   One indisputable answer is no. No coffee, no Starbucks. No Starbucks, no Tripio. Starbucks did not invent coffee. I drank plenty of coffee before Starbucks was available. In Tripio, Jay refers to a coffee house where he was working before he moved to Chicago. And even after Jay is working at Starbucks, he often goes to a favorite coffee house that “sat on an alley under the El tracks”. I come by my love of coffee honestly. Hey, I loved coffee before it was trendy and pricey.

    The point here, however, isn’t how cool I am. I was thinking as I started this post that it could be a bad thing that I believe I have to have a cup of coffee within arm’s reach anytime I write. At times, I know that I will not drink the contents of the mug but that I have to have it close regardless. If I were feeling somehow inadequate about myself for not being able to write without coffee near, I arrived at the conclusion to stop it. One reason is that I am in good company with Stephen Fry. The second is that I would have never responded to the Starbucks want ad if I hadn’t already loved coffee. For proof I refer again to Tripio and Jay thinking to himself “about the only real qualification I have is that I’m a coffee lover.”

Read, write and coffee today.

    And I am not alone! The spectacular growth of Starbucks confirms this. If you are reading this blog with a cup of coffee nearby, then drink up!  And, if you are doing so at your local coffee house or Starbucks then that’s even better. If you have come across this post on National Coffee Day 2021, that may prove that coffee is as much a part of your life as it was Jay’s. How cool is that?


                                                                                                                                            “May I help who’s next?”

     The search is on   

    It is seven a.m. in Columbus Ohio. I am strolling with intent through a gentrifying neighborhood towards my first cup of coffee of the day. My oldest son is still asleep a few blocks away. I am in town to visit him. A few days ago, I texted him because I envisioned this scenario. He prefers tea and I knew I would be up earlier than he would be . In response he told me there was a coffee place a few blocks away where I could go for my coffee fix. 

I had lived in this very neighborhood when I was his age. It is “nicer” now. As the walk clears my mind, I wonder about how our lives take shape. Are we in charge of our lives at all? Are there clearly defined ends and beginnings? I don’t want to get too heavy before my first cup of coffee but when I walked these streets over two decades ago, I never dreamed I would have a son, let alone three other (now) adult children. 

    In the spirit of beginnings, journeys and paths I am starting a random but regular series of posts focused on my visits to coffee establishments of all kinds. The title of this series is “Searching for The 3 Grove Cafe”( The Pandemic put this on hold for now, obviously). The address is that of the house where I grew up. Baked into that title is the hope of discovering a place so perfect it doesn’t exist. It carries the hope, wish and desire that I can find childhood again. The hope of rediscovering a carefree summer day in the old neighborhood running from green lawn to green lawn with childhood friends who, in my mind and with me, stay forever young. Where was I? Oh, yea. Beginnings. Why not make the first post in the series about the coffee place that started my lifelong romance with great coffee. That would be Sta- no, no, no…Not them!...Stauf’s, right here in Columbus, Ohio.

The doors open

   The doors opened for me and the less important general public at seven a.m. By this time, the two baristas have spent at least a half an hour prepping Cup o’ Joe for the long Saturday ahead. This reminded me that a person currently reading Tripio, and there are a few out there, had remarked to me earlier this week that she was amazed at how much went into getting a coffee shop opened. In the case of Tripio, it would have been a Starbucks in Lincoln Park in Chicago in 1992. The coffee doesn’t’ brew itself. The espresso bar does not prime nor test itself. The pastries don’t deliver themselves. 

 At Cup o’ Joe on this Saturday morning the opening work had mostly all been done. I had chosen my drip of the day which would turn out to be a wonderfully berry like Ethiopian Yergacheffe.  As I waited for it to cool a bit, I watched one barista water the plants and say his hellos to the Saturday regulars. One of the regulars requested that the fireplace to be turned on. Once the fireplace was on, he assumed a seat, feet facing it, and opened his book. There were as many books as laptops in attendance as the day started.

I forgave the book readers for not having selected Tripio, and read the local coffee house periodicals. Here, I find the most interesting events and places. Nearly all coffee houses have a selection of these locally produced papers and they can’t be beat for obtaining  the “feel” of a certain city, or if that city is large enough, a certain neighborhood. I found an article in one of the mags on a coffee house not too far away called Cafe Kerouac. Hell yes. That sounded like a good spot for my afternoon cup of coffee.

On the Roads

A wonderful memory hit me just them. I had given my ancient copy of On the Road to my oldest son many years ago. The same son I was now visiting.  So fitting. So many paths. I felt great about my life then and there at Cup o’ Joe, whose coffees are roasted by Stauf’s, where my own coffee journey began, a long time before my son was starting his journey in this world.


 Damn, started rambling again. I may have had too much while writing this post. Be that as it may, lets’ get back to how much more I know about coffee than you. My heritage barista’s look inside the bean is: Next time you get to a coffee house as it opens, appreciate that the barista or baristas have already been there working for some time to get your coffee ready. Remember also that these baristas have to make a coffee drink for themselves. So, if the shop isn’t completely ready when you step in, be patient. After all, if the baristas aren’t drinking the coffee they serve then you may want to head somewhere else.

                                               “ May I help who’s next”   


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A troubling thing has been happening since I published my historical fiction novel, Tripio. I have been getting asked quite a bit the question: “What is a tripio?”  This question was first asked me at a class on memoir writing at the Indiana Writers Center. No one in the class with me knew what a tripio was. It hadn’t even occurred to me. I knew what a tripio was since the fall of 1990 when I started at Starbucks. I had worked at a couple independent, hippy coffee houses even before that, so the word was part of my personal vocabulary so long I assumed everyone knew what one was. Also creating my false sense of security was the fact that there are thousands upon thousands of Starbucks on this earth. Surely, everyone who’s visited a Starbucks has ordered a tripio…right?

one definition of a tripio

     I’ll take that as a “no.” In Tripio, the book, Jay describes his tripio, the drink, as “my crutch, my momentum and my solace”. I’m sure that helped clear things up. If it didn’t, I will define a tripio as three shots of espresso which is usually consumed immediately after it is brewed into pre-warmed cup. It is then often consumed with sugar or whatever one wants to add. In Tripio, the book, Jay always drinks his tripios over lots of ice in a plastic cup.

Jay needs the caffeine from the three shots and the ice keeps the drink alive and refreshing as he goes about his work day. He needs the caffeine for opening shifts at Starbucks. He needs the caffeine for the closing shifts at Starbucks. Starbucks was unknown then and in the process of becoming the global entity we all know today. That didn’t happen by having the baristas and managers in the trenches stand around. Jay needed lots of tripios.



The author


       a second definition of a tripio          

    In the end, I did not choose to title the book Tripio based solely on the fact that the main character drank lots of triple espressos over ice. There are three plot lines that intertwine and collaborate as the novel goes along. Jay has three life options facing him as he goes about his increasingly complicated days. After reading Tripio, you will be asked to decide if the option he chose was the correct one for him.  Or better yet, you have put yourself in Jay’s place. Even better you recognize a situation in your life that you can compare to Jay’s and consider that situation in new context.

     In order to read the novel you will first have to buy it. Before you do that, you will examine the cover and see that subtitle includes a partial definition of the word tripio. Which brings me back around to the class I mentioned above. The instructor of that class helped me in crafting the subtitle. Thankfully, he was one other person in the room that day who knew what a tripio was.  And now, I hope you do as well.

                              “May I help who’s next?”

Tripio a novel: 3 Shots: Starbucks Millionaire, Novelist, or Father?
How Starbucks Saved My Life: A Son of Privilege Learns to Live Like Everyone Else by [Michael Gill]

A book I wrote, a book I am reading

This year Starbucks is celebrating it’s 50th anniversary. I thought it was time to mark the occasion by reading books on Starbucks. I have written and published an historical fiction novel called Tripio, set at a Chicago Starbucks in 1992. Firstly, my comparative study of Starbucks literature focused on the books in green apron and behind the people. Secondly, this rules out the books written by Howard Shultz, Howard Behar or any of the dozens of books concerned with how Starbucks succeeded financially since 1971. As a result I did not include the endless fictional stories either set at a Starbucks, or have a scene or two take place in one of the locations.

Coffee industry legend Kevin Knox described Tripio as “much needed contrast by showing that the lifeblood of the company in those formative years was the idealism, sacrifice and hard work of the baristas.” I went looking for told from the perspective of the green apron wearing barista. “My search came across Michael Gates Gill’s account called How Starbucks save my life. Even if his book is auto biographical, I feel the comparison holds up because Tripio is at the very least, emotionally autobiographical. In Tripio and How, the characters are wearing the green apron (and a red apron in my case) and are primarily baristas doing work behind the counter.

Here are my thoughts after reading Chapter one of How Starbucks saved my life. Stayed tuned for more of my comparative study of Starbucks literature.



  • Michael Gates Gill was a customer before he got the job. I interviewed at Starbucks, never having seen one before then.
  • He had 3 girls and 1 boy. I have 1 girl and 3 boys. He provided money, I provided time.
  • Tom Hanks nearly made How Starbucks saved my life into a movie. Tom Hanks credits the Wright State University theatre department for helping him get started on his illustrious career. I went to Wright State University a and some characters in Tripio are based on WSU theatre department grads.
  • His work life took him to Starbucks in desperation. I went to Starbucks full of aspirations (to be a writer).
  • He drank lattes. I drank Tripios, of course.
  • Michael Gates Gill liked the sound of his name. I don’t like the sound of mine.
  • He didn’t like yoga. I do.
  • His Starbucks was in New York, mine in Chicago
  • M.G.G. was married and getting divorced. Jay was single and becoming a parent.
  • M.G.G was asked if he’d like a job. Jay was asked if he loved coffee.
  • M.G.G. was “an old fart’ looking for direction in his life. Jay was young man looking for direction in his life.
  • I started keeping the journals that became Tripio when I worked at Starbucks in 1990. Gill and Gotham Books published How in 2007.


I found point eleven worth considering. I often joke that when I worked at Starbucks, it was still a coffee company. If anyone has a title to add to this “comparative study of Starbucks fiction, please let me know. Thanks!

There is no judgment here, just detached observation
This would work with a Tripio also.

My double espresso is pouring slowly and with intent into my favorite doppio cup. It is not yet five in the morning. In a few minutes I will go outside to wake up the morning song birds. My mind wants my body and five senses to be up and at it. My super and subconscious minds know that it will be a good day today. As a result, they woke me before the alarm. They know because my conscious mind, physical body and five sense worked on this yesterday and the day before and before that. I cooperated and got out of bed. This is a routine, a bargain, an understanding that I call the “mind grind”.

From grind to mind

It follows then, that in order to have my clear, energized mind produce and create the day I want, I have to prepare. If I want a great doppio at 5 in the morning, I have to prepare for it. It don’t just happen. Nothing does, nothing just happens. One conscious action I took a couple weeks ago to make a great doppio this morning was to buy the correct type of beans to make my doppio.

I like to use Fresh Thyme espresso. It is bulk whole bean coffee. Just what I need. I don’t live close to the Fresh Thyme. As a consequence, when am there, I buy an over full bag of the beans. It is more than a pound but it gets me a month of doppios. Once home I store the beans in an airtight container on top of the fridge near my grinder.

On Sunday, I grind a week’s worth. I have decades of practice listening to beans being ground. I know when they are ground fine enough to produce a perfect shot. Then I transfer these grounds into in a smaller, glass airtight container next to my espresso maker. There they sit until the follow day, waiting to become my doppio. The intensely flavored, crema topped doppio is the perfect start to my morning. Again, it doesn’t just happen. It take a series of conscious intentional thoughts to create the actions that create the perfect doppio.

Find your mind grind

Apply the same process to creating the morning mind you wake up with. It takes intentional actions and preparation but like my cream topped doppio, it is well worth it. The doppio won’t make itself. Nothing just happens. If I want my mind to match the beautiful, functional simplicity of my doppio, it takes work and preparation as well.

I don’t want to exhaust the metaphor here, but the beans in the equation here would be my yoga practice. The body and mind are clearly linked. The issues are in our tissues, as the wisdom goes. I do quick practice every day before work. This practice is brief but intense with focused thought. The weekends will usually find me doing two longer practices. One of those days I will add a meditation, a rite of yoga related exercises called the 5 Tibetans, and some resistance with weights. Other weekends find me hitting the treadmill and sauna at my local gym. In each and every case, I have developed mental exercises that accompany and enhance the physical. For example, in the sauna I image my fears and doubts leaving my body and mind in the form of drops of sweat. Hey, it works for me.

Be your own mental barista

There is more. I could add journaling, writing fiction, blogging, recording voice memos and many other practices to my mental self-care routine. The common thread to all of them is that they are intentional. They are all things I feel like I have to do to create my simple functional, clear and energetic mind. It is work though. To me that means it would be easier NOT to do them. But, I do not want to drink a doppio, or any coffee drink, made for someone else, by someone else. That would be like grabbing someone else’s drink from the counter at a busy Starbucks and taking it with you. You are stuck with it. It may work, but was it really yours? Ask the same of your thoughts. Who made them? Was it really for me or are they made by a mental barista who really doesn’t care?

I ain’t sayin’ this from a mountain top of course. I am just sharing that I have found a coffee grind and a mind grind that works for me. There is no doubt that you will find your own mind grind. Don’t worry, you will know it is working when you taste it.











































Today, I am going to write about how pleased I am to be able to be enjoyin’ my coffee once again. The past month I have experienced many disruptions to my mind, body and soul. It is not recommended to dwell on the past, so I won’t.

Coffee is a thing

What I will do is express gratitude for simply being able to taste, savor and enjoy a cup of coffee once again. Yes, I know coffee is a thing. I see many blogs out there with coffee tie-ins. I see blogs started with the first, second or even third post being reviews of coffee houses, coffee drinks or coffee makers. It is a good choice to do this because coffee can and often does attract clicks on said blogs. A blog on coffee stands a better chance of getting noticed than one about shirt buttons, for example.

Image result for Buttons. Size: 131 x 133. Source:

I am writing about coffee this morning for my own reason. I am writing about coffee because I don’t have a choice. You see, I’ve been at this coffee thing since the late 80’s. As I say above, I was deluded and separated throughout June. I sorted through and crawled out of the wreckage day by day. I have slowly returned to myself. There have many other small milestones and I have passed as I cleared the debris from my mind. However, being able to sit on my porch with my ritual cup of straight black drip coffee brings a historically personal confirmation to my day.

Enjoyin’ my coffee this morning

The two cups I have had this morning did not make me anxious. In fact, the opposite took place. The ritual morning coffee reassured me. It reminded me that I have overcome many other trials and tribulations over the past decades. The repeated sips collaborated with my clear, energized mind. The mind I recharged with real night of unpolluted sleep.

The list of things I left behind over the past weeks is quite lengthy. Some of these I will sadly never be able to get back. Others I simply will never be able to recall. I am looking forward to appreciating many people, places and things once again. I chose coffee from that list because this is partly a coffee blog and because as I said, I have no other choice. Simply put, if I’m enjoyin’ my coffee once again, that means I’m enjoyin’ my life again.


By the way, I don’t hate buttons