Tag Archives: Coffee

Cyperspace ate my work!


rants.pngSo this morning I sit at my desk with a hot cup of coffee at hand, I tap in my WordPress account and pull up my working blog draft from yesterday that was to be finished with editing and polishing, only to find out – cyberspace, ate an entire day’s work, that now has me starting from, “scratch,” once again!

Not the best of news, when your just waking up with a hot cup of coffee, the threat of rain in the forecast in the next few days and few days here and there for next week as well – nothing keeps me from bitching like an ignorant idiot from Mars.

Mars maybe a planet, but it’s also a candy bar of the same name as well in real life as well.  Perhaps, it had something to do with my writing naked blog that I wrote about the other day as a sign of revenge? If that’s the case, than I’m in some serious trouble as eggplant and brewed eggnog!

No writer is perfect in their literary works until they can save their polished and edited works before saving and publishing for all to read.

With a few shuteye’s here and there, I’m trying to juggle the magic with the cat in the hat and stirring the pot for some gold at the same time, which hasn’t led me to the jackpot – just yet. What a dish, I must say. It’s karma dully pinching her lofty twin set of large melon sized breasts in a rage to win the fight! Karma? We’ll all be damned!

In fact, the bitch Karma needs a name, literally – so, what shall we name her folks? I friend suggested, why not “Jay Jay?” Hmm, I’m thinking – she’s actually trying to get me to write, “porn revenge,” this morning to say – in fact, she is beautiful to say, but I ain’t naming names – just that she’s a one of my longtime high school friend’s and we’ll leave it at that.

In fact, the beast between Karma and the “Jay Jay,” idea would literally get me better sex from the high school friend than from Karma alone – hell, she’s a helluva lot better than that folks! Not, that it’s getting me into the urge of writing a revenge piece for the lost work that I had labored the day and night before, has created a pandora of ideas to get Karma back in the ass.

I know this ain’t Brooklyn or Manhattan, but sure enough the piece I wrote the night before was a legend of its own and has quietly left its mark in cyberspace and the vast troys of the darkness of the internet. Troy or not to troy, the fight will continue but, I’m pressed not to win the battle. Perhaps, this is the start? The real start of the fight, the battle to win the revenge game of the century – Karma is dully on the lam to praise her wishing well as the crystal ball she has held for many years seems to be getting a little dimmer with the lightning rod running low on it’s voltage – I might just have an advantage here to say.

To be continued at another time and place.

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Forty-five years of memories, brings out a youthful generation of memories


Eugene's Allan Bro's Coffee - The Beanery 5th and Olive St.
Eugene’s Allan Bro’s Coffee – The Beanery 5th and Olive St.

I sit in a familiar coffee house in Downtown Eugene on a chilly Sunday afternoon, as the air entraps Oregon’s famous fog, which likes to linger longer than its usual paid astronomical visits during the fall months – just as winter looks to start burst its door in less than a week – the chill factor of the winter cold isn’t much of a deterrent to those who live in the Willamette Valley of Western Oregon. Evidently, it remind of those days where the fall solstice is about to walk out the door and off the job and transforming its duties to the Winter solstice until Spring.

I’m not talking about the utterly winterstorms just yet, I’m admiring my past, when kids used to tease me back in the days of my childhood, when I had once predicted – it would snow that very day. They not shrugged and brushed it off, they made all kinds of noise and music, that it wouldn’t snow has I had predicted. But, the most amazing thing happen along the way, a few tad hours later, it started snowing as we were out and about on our recess either before lunch or thereafter, the flakes started falling slowly and the snow started piling up as the day went onward.

By the time, we got out of school – the city was heavily blanketed with white power – indeed the snow had fallen! What a beautiful sight to see as the snow stuck to the ground, my prediction had come true, it was later thought, I had some kind of magical power to predict anything? – but, it was the empowering thought and the wisdom of one’s sub-conscious of mind bogging knowledge of predictions, the psychic mind was at it’s best to begin with and with the help of some kinds souls across the universe, the prediction of snow that day was the presence of Christmas magic or was it?

5th Street Public Market with fresh winter snow.
5th Street Public Market with fresh winter snow.

Why I can’t remember the exact date or the exact year, when this story took place. But, it has been such an inspirational thought of my childhood, where I once stood my ground and predicting the most wonderful even in memory, while growing up.

I’m still reminded of the Winterstorm of 1969. I recently read an old newspaper clipping of how the storm came about in the middle of nowhere, as a Pineapple Express whirled up a fanfare of destruction and large amounts of snow in a phenomenon that could never be explained – A link to the Eugene Register Guard news story of the surprising impromptu winterstorm to ever hit the Pacific Northwest came about with chaos, school and business closures, since dumped nearly three to four feet of snow in parts of Eugene-Springfield, Lane County and a trail of destruction from Oregon to British Columbia.

West 13th Ave. Circa Jan 1969
West 13th Ave. Circa Jan 1969

It was January 1969, when it all happened. Three days of non-stop snowfall practically shutdown the entire region, as if it was just hit with one of those heavy banded Nor’easter’s, folks on the east coast experience each winter – but, it was close in a way, more of a Nor’wester to say in a way.

But the day, I predicted the winterstorm of the early 1970’s as a young child during my wonder years, I lay back in my office chair reminding myself – those where the days, when we were kids, had “the most wonderful time of the year,” as January 1969 took us into the post-Christmas winter wonderland.

I remember the roof of my grandfather’s barn caved-in – due to the heavy weight of snow, shattering the roof big time. It took my grandfather and my Uncle an entire Spring and Summer to replace the roof before the Fall semester kicked a few months later.

Nearly a half century of memories is a stark reminder, we live in a world where our lives are shared with the memories of our past and future generations.

Passing down the stories we tell from generation to generation is the historical significance of the life we live today. The future is very much different, than, what we experienced as a generation, that was born in the mid 1960’s and seventies.

I believe the twenty-first century is looking to leave a lasting mark, as a new generation of stories are to be told by the offspring of those we bear as children and their grandchildren – as we witnessed it today in our lifetime.

Future generations telling the stories of past generations to come.
Future generations telling the stories of past generations to come.

Perhaps, that was the prediction that endured me to reach into my past and tell the story of a generation, that lived through one of the most surprising snowstorms of their generation? How we perceive the future and to preserve it with the stories to be told is – something to be witnessed by the offspring we bear and that of their town as we muster into a later years as adults, parents, grandparents, writers and bloggers, it is yet to be carved and etched in stone has history is written.

A chilly night in the cathouse!–No, not the bordello…


  This place seems to be a cat house on a Saturday night. You go to a Café with wireless internet and all a sudden, the place gets bombarded big time with customers out for the late night Saturday night life, on the town.

But, that’s not all – its bone chilly and the cold is haunting the night life as the city slickers storm the café for the sprinting of the Java Joe of the brewing pot of steaming coffee that has been filling the night air with the smell of fresh food and hot dicey brew of Java.

Seriously, I can’t wait until they start saying the word – S U M M E R in the forecast at the same time and keeping things dicey and freshly brewed into the warm heater months! Aye mate, that’s a moi of cracker jacks, when it comes time to shout out the moi of Java Jonas on a chilly fazed night, when the northern lights are dance to the rhythms of moist colors of the planet in the daring night sky.

Now, if the northern lights could reach into the Pacific Northwest skies of Oregon, the timing would be a stark reminder, that we’re not alone in the universe.

Now, about the pot of Java Joe.