Have you ever been sitting around when suddenly your mind always a little time capsule to bubble up to the surface and you a remember a whole "time" that you had essentially forgotten about?
That what happened this morning as I sat in the Chez Malraux courtyard sipping a spicy cup of Dark French Roast (DFR) with the spirit of Hemingway upon me, saying, "It is good to sit in the courtyard of a villa with the woman you love, drinking strong coffee in the cool of the morning."
I almost said "sipping" but Hemingways never sip.
I had just finished looking at the current edition of The Psychic Reader, and I was wondering why they bother printing the thing out. Why not just, you know, just psychically project it out into the ether?
Oh yeah, the ads. Gotta make bank somehow.
Anyway, as I put the magazine down a sudden detailed memory or series of memories came over me in a sudden Proustian rush as the DFR did that nice bittersweet thing at the back of my palate.
I remembered the old Weatherstone cafe which, at the time, was the only place you could get a cup of DFR in downtown Sacramento. I had been spoiled in San Francisco where cafes have always existed. There were no Java's City's, Starbucks, Cup O'Joes etc... anywhere in the city (if at that time you could call it that. Downtown back then looked like deserted movie set).
Remembering the old dark and dusty Weatherstone, and learning the science of brewing the perfect cup of DFR, I suddenly remembered what had brought me to Sacramento in the first place. I came to study psychology.
The more I sat there the more memories led to other memories and I suddenly began to remember why I had repressed the whole mess.
But I had the morning off so I started to jot them all down and I'll share them with you now
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Part Two is coming.
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