tasting a narrative

Hey Hey. I thought I would try a new look for my journal. I really like it. I also thought i would sit down in the collegium today, with half a pot of "kick ass", and "miracle fortress" playing in the background. This really is one of those great moments of life.

Speaking of great moments; I have offically tasted the worlds rarest coffee. And here is a fantastic story to go along with it- A pastor friend of mine invite me to his church yesterday to try out this "rare" coffee he had bought on wholesale. being the coffee freak i am, i took him up on his offer... and I invite a girl that I like (but that is a different, proabably more interesting, story). This rare coffee was from Indonesia, and named "Kopi Luwak".

Kopi Luwak coffeee is regarded as the worlds rarest, and most expensive coffee, in the world. At retail, the coffee sells for $200-$400 a pound. This coffee is grown and cultivated on the island of Sumatra, in Indonesia (arguably, the place where the finest coffees of the world are found).

Now heres how the coffee is produced. On the island of Sumatra there is a species of cat-like mammal called the Palm Civet. At night Palm Civets forage through coffee bushes, eating only the finest coffee fruits. It is said that the animal will starve to find just the right berries.

The Palm Civet is known to have a unique digestive system, which is only able to process the "fruit" part of the coffee berries. So, the bean of the coffee fruit is then "excreted". So farmers will search for the feces of this animal to harvest the rare beans.

So, the coffee is essentially Civet crap. And I drank that yesterday. Ah ha ha ha! (i love being a coffee lover).

The story, as the pastor explained, illustrated a profound point about faith. When God chooses to work He doesen't choose the best, the most perfect, means. He chooses the refuse of life.

One story the pastor told was of how Jesus once spit in the sand to heal a man's blindness. And if you think about it, spitting is one of the greatest insults you can inflict at another person. In that story the worst was used for the best means.

And i took this as a humbling lesson. We don't need to be perfect, or aspire to be perfect, in our characters. Somehow, God works in the ugly and awkward places in life- in the dirt, the crap, and the places where we don't think He belongs.

and this all started with a small cup of coffee. In the same way that a Civet's crap can produce the world's finest coffee, we can find the most beautiful moments of life in the crap of life... the moments of being human, and trying to feel loved.

as far as the flavor of the coffee is concerned, here is my critique-

um, it wasn't, like, the most spectacular coffee i have ever tasted. but the aroma was absolutel alluring, and sensuous - unlike any aroma i have smelled before. oh yeah. the coffee had a distinctive Sumatra flavor. I can't really think of any way to describe other than just saying "Sumatra".

I'll explain it to you later... over some chai. I need a break from coffee.

some hurting

"if theres no love, you try and find it wherever"

-me.

.... yeah. its just a weird kind of day.

some expectation

dallas green was pretty darn great. i must say. i still have that "relaxed/chill/wow, acoustic music is my heart" feeling. its cool.

The concert was at stanley park... so imagine a clear starry night, and a stage circled with evergreen trees (arguably the best type of tree) and sitting in the cool grass with blankets to keep warm. i love it.

Before the concert a friend and I shared horribly overpriced halibut and a beer that tasted like bread. after the concert i fell asleep.

oh, completely random and pointless- i had a 5 second sleep last night. which, for you who don't know, is 8 hours of sleep that feels like 5 seconds.

Then today i tried to get my passport application in, at a passport office in Abbotsford. They told me i had to go process it in surrey. Which kind of steamed me off. Why have a passport office if you can't process a passport? Damn government.

Meh. I shouldn't complain. If i lived anywhere else in the world i would be arrested for typing in that last sentence. I owe you some better writing... about my fun and entertaing personal life, of chasing after girls, and then being too afraid to talk to them. what a life.

later.

PS- i had a dream about teapots last night. Anyone down for a walk to MCC?

menno food and dallas green

I'm having one of those "arg, i feel like crap... but i shouldn't complain because i have no reason to feel like crap" days.

This feeling could have been brought on by a number of things;

- eating sketchy farmer sausage, with bun.
- eating a deep fried ball of dough, with special guest... raisins. it had some crazy name, but i can't remember what it is.
(mennonites eat some weird stuff, i must say).

or - working on my indie poetry book. i wrote some freaking heavy stuff during the summer. man.

it was a depressing 4 or so hours.

Before the end of this week, if not the end of this year, i resolve to

- not eat mennonite food
- not work on poetry projects and
- actually hold hands with a girl (i have to stay at least somewhat optimistic about this last one).

we will see.

oh, by the way, i'm seeing City and Color in two days. finally. details to follow.

as soon as i stop feeling weird.

I'm still living. somewhat.

my plan, for the next three days or so;

1) sit in class for 8 hours
2) fall asleep in 8 hour class.
3) Get Passport for New York
4) Watch "Dead Man Walking"
5) Sauce (preferably, tomato)
5.1) eat farmer sausage and perogies.

6) Watch "Benny and Joon"
7) Listen to Our Lady Peace (and lots of it). or maybe some Kings of Convenience

8) watch City and Colour in Stanley Park.

9) Write less pointless entries.
9.1) feel less like an insensitive... blah.
10) Hold hands with a girl.

(the last one might be a bit of a stretch... we'll see).

its hard for me but I'm trying

(I know I've quoted this book before... but this time it looks different. so ha).

Everybody has to change, or they expire. Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.

I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.

Only the good stories have the characters different at the end than they were at the beginning. And the closest thing I can liken life to is a book, the way it stretches out on paper, page after page, as if to trick the mind into thinking it isn't all happening at once.

- Donald Miller, Through Painted Deserts.

i might become a mess of love

the "jacob and lily" show at my school today worked out pretty awesomely. i must say.

here, check out some music...

and, i'll have some prose ready for you after i get some sleep. later.

its like lightning in a clear blue sky

today was the first day of schoool. and i am horribly tired. I got to try out one of my really bad one liners, in front of all the new students (and their parents).

"Hi, I'm Adam, I'm the arts rep. If your an artsy person, or if your the kid in high school that no-one talked to, talk to me."

...well, they thought it was funny. in retrospect, i should never talk in front of a large crowd...ever.

Anyway, i still have a hundred thousand things to think about before school gets into the swing of things... meeting itinerarys, introductions, calenders, classes... GAH.

Its going to be quite the long year. I may, or may not, be going to New York and St. Lewis this year... and Europe/Spain in 2 years.

what a life. So, i have been promising myself for way too long to sit and write prose over a cup of coffee. erg. I should really get on that before "paper-writing season" kicks in. shudder.

we will have to see. later.

All that noise, and all that sound,

... sometimes the day keeps me up all night.
and i wonder if its worth staying here.
call my bluff, i'm not alright. i'm running away.
I just need a place that sleep calls home.

so, for the past week i have been working like a madman, trying to plan a concert, finish work, and figure out Student Council information all at once.

I wasn't able to get the last three days of summer off, which means i have to miss every single Leadership Training meeting- thus it also means that i have no effing idea what i am doing.

Anyway, deep sigh, as you can see i still haven't had anything interesting to say in over a week. This is a weird sensation for me, a guy who likes to keep his online journal very up to date. This could, in the end, be my downfall... my generalized writing style is starting to rub off into my real journaling (the kind with paper). So my personal wrestlings, which are not meant to grace the pages of an online journal, are starting to get less honest and more vague. hm.

I'm starting to feel the downness of being too busy. I wish i had/really want a couple days to slow down and reflect... it would be a shame to let an entire summer of insight just go to waste- or to just shrug off the precious details in the rush of starting a new chapter. bleh.

If you know me please ask me for a conversation. If you don't know me, we'll have to fix that... send me an e-mail or something.

talk to you later.

reprise;

try this link- i think it actually works now. we'll see;

Midlake

moving helps to make the day seem shorter

I still really have nothing to write about... sooo

stuff that makes life feel like home-

- my new townhouse (right beside my old one, which was considerable louder).
- a pot of tea everyday after work. today it was an orange spice, from EA.
- writing... which i have not done all week. gah. no wonder i feel so disconnected.
- school, which starts in just over a week.
- new faces... you get a lot of those at a college...
- by the way, some of the new students came early, thus the "new faces".

- Leaning over the side of a pier and seeing a big seal rush by, ten feet away (that was cool).
- not spending 17 bucks for a small pizza (effing Boston Pizza... so expensive).

- coffee from peru. which i haven't had in a week... again, disconnected.
- Blaga Dimitrova. And Anne Lamont.
- And, Madeleine L'Engle.
- Midlake
- The first five seconds out the door before work, getting to breathe in fresh air. mmm.

- Dirty dishes and piles of books on my desk and coffee table.
- Not my coffee table... it has a glass top, and gold painted steel legs... shudder. I do not like glass coffee tables.
- Alexander Keith's


- My broken hammock.
- Learning to write shorter, more concise, less pointless entries (not to mention, less emo).
- My artsy fair-trade paper journal which i carelessly use for personal stuff.
- Tomatoes and Pasta, with grated garlic and parmesan cheese.
- My mom's pizza... which i haven't eaten in over a year.
- The five seconds after a conversation on a moonlit dock at midnight... realizing how beautiful the person you are talking to is.

-Writing... which I need to do more often. As soon as I have something to write about... we'll see.

later

-Adam

PS- I did have something to write about- a latenight roadtrip to Whiterock, and a huge dock- but meh. it didn't come to me until just now. it happens.

waiting is lame

I really have nothing to write about... (thus, my absence). soooo

Only a week and a half until school. Woot.

I can't wait. At all. So instead I'm filling the time between now and then with buying old books and cheap t-shirts. Being a twentysomething is not so bad.

four walls and lonely evenings

cry, blaga dimitrova

When will you come to me?
When I have gone,
and my departing steps
echo distantly?
When will you be with me?
When you've been immured
within the four walls
of your lonely evening?

When will you discover me?
When I pass by
pressed close against another,
my eyes cast down?
When will you call my name?
Only when you see
you are losing me - a stranger,
remote, unknown?

Love me fully now,
When I love you!
While I am yours
crave me, long for me,
reach out your open hands
while I will run to you.
For tomorrow will be late
and beyond repair.

cold chai and contradictory lines

I climbed this hill, this time last summer.




(i write a lot of love poems about no-one. this is one of them).

the day i spent with you was like memories,
as captivating as the day it was painted
with fingerprints and intentional imperfections,
and opposite lines to divide our hands.

in the scheme of things we look like we were patched together
with undefined insights, and a question mark,
with tired brush strokes, and saddened afterthought.
painted together in a late blue period,
between the renaissance and the age of reason.

behind the subtle shades of expectation,
an artist has drawn you back to me.
an illogical placement of colors falls together,
and our faces are drawn out with contradictory lines.

me and all my friends

yesterday was probably the most awkward day of my entire life. i realized this somewhere between;
-missing my bus at 9 am, arriving in Vancouver two hours late
-tripping down some skytrain steps
-losing my friend in a crowd of thousands (twice).
-almost having to sleep in some grass outside the bus depot (which is what i would have done last night, if i didn't find my said friend).

and there are thousands of other small/ somewhat pointless stories, which i won't bug you with... weeell... maybe over some coffee.

so. I'm in Vancouver. Last night i decided to check out some fireworks, at English Bay, and there just so happened to be half a million people huddled besided the ocean, watching thousands of dollars worth of sparks, colors, and light colliding with the reflection of the pacific ocean.

The fact that fireworks are set off beside the ocean makes everything hugely better.

so then every person in vancouver, and their mom, walked down Denman, Robson, and Davie street to get home, followed by police on motorcycles and giant horses (which was very intimidating, i must say)

It was really cool. a few times I would look ten blocks down the road and see the giant wave of people filling the four lane streets like a giant parade... this is something you should do at least once, if not 5 times.

~

Before that me and Heather (who is going to dislike me greatly for referencing her, as i am sure she shares my dislike for being referenced online) walked down commercial drive for awhile. some stuff we managed to do;

- Cappuchinos at JJ Bean
- purchased tea from Ten Thousand Villages
- looked at pictures at an artsy print-store.
- shopped for murses (man purse) at a hemp store... though, i could not decide on one... maybe next time.
- considered buying an alpaca sweater. again, maybe next time.
-ate some been donairs

- wandered into commercial street park for an outdoor concert / event. It took about 5 minutes for me to realize that the event was a "Gay Pride" gathering... ha ha. i had to laugh at that.

- walked down some sidestreets and pointed out which houses we would like to live in... i love how quiet some of those sidestreets are.
- watched "the bourne ultimatum", which was actually really sweet/awesome/yeah.

So, anyway, I'm sorry if this entry has seemed blah/a little lifeless/un-prosy. i was awake for a good 20 hours yesterday, and you would be surprised how many diverse and ranging emotions one can feel in that amount of time.

Getting far away from home can do that to you. In the past two years I've had a lot of running away from home, then running back wondering why i left in the first place. Its the grace of being a backpacker, i suppose.

more later, once i try this "sleep" thing everyone is talking about. possible plans for today
- stanley park
- buying pants at Mountain Equpiment co-op
-touring old downtown churches (maybe next time).
- prose
- a pint of maple-cream ale
- purchasing an artsy man-purse

we'll see.

-Adam

occurances

I haven't been doing much this week, besides sitting at home alone drinking coffee from Peru, and lying inside emotional streams of consciousness. I should be in some actual streams, because an entire summer without swimming is just wrong.

I picked up a copy of Simply in Season, finally. My dream of becoming an attractive vegetarian is now underway... the vegetarian part at least.

My new favorite movie, for the time being (wow, i'm jumping from one thought to the next here) is "The Secret Life of Words". Man, if i was just a little more emotional I would have been crying.

I promise that I will do something worth writing about this week, and make our conversations more interesting. I'm starting to get sick of just talking about myself all the time.

later

-Adam

chapters and overpriced tea

The last Saturday portion of my adventure to Vancouver was not as exciting as Friday. It involved sitting by a pier, across the water from a dock where "Romeo Must Die" and "Dark Angel" were filmed, with a slightly overpriced pita ( i should have bought my first choice... pizza).

Well, I'm skimming over a lot of details here. The pier was right outside a place called "Q Place Market", or some unoriginal name, which is further across the water from downtown Vancouver. We were supposed to go to Stanley Park, but for some reason eating crappy pitas on a sketchy dock seemed more appealing.

A little later an old friend and I took the Sea Bus into Vancouver, about two blocks away from Historic Gastown. Then he dragged me to a movie theater, all the while I was complaining about how much money I spent the day before (i am lame). I tried getting some tickets for Transformers, but it was sold out. So I saw Harry Potter 5 instead.

I actualy really enjoyed it. For being the 5th in a series the movie was great graphically, and story-wise (story-ly is clearly not a word). It was a dark sort of film. I was actually a little shaken afterwards. I seriously need to read those books... it seems like I'm always 5 steps behind everything cool.

~

Today my friend and I walked on the green hill outside Science World, one of the places I frequent in Van. We walked around a bit, talking about love and relationships, because thats what guys talk about when they take long walks near the ocean. I love the feeling of "wow, this is huge" standing on the hill looking out, and watching the current lines wrinkle and smooth on the surface of the water. Heres a picture from my last trip-




Then I bought some random Chinese tea, that I'm sure will taste like dirt, and took the greyhound home. Yes. I am writing the dry details of my day to day life, with the weird little hope that it will make them seem more interesting (ha ha. I loathe bloggers who do that... and i loathe the word "bloggers").

I think thats about it... oh wait, I never told you about the trees on Commercial, have I? Welllll, when you walk down Commercial drive there are these cute sidestreets, stretching a long way until the road slopes down and disappears. On the side of those sidestreets there are flowered trees that shade the sidewalks, and when its springtime the petals in those trees fall like a soft and colorful rain. Hmm. I love it. It reminds me of a kinder, more accessible Victoria.

(If only Vancouver Island was a little more friendly).

So now I'm going to drink my cold tea that tastes like dirt, watch a random film, practice a little magic, and sleep. Thus ending another weird chapter in my life. Well... later.

-Adam

PS - I'm only somewhat proud of myself for using proper upper cased lettering this time... take that E.E. Cummings.

search high and low, scan skies and land

Yesterday a friend and I spent a couple hours on commercial drive. We had some great penne, with curry alfredo and sundried tomatoe, then stopped into Ten Thousand Villages- a local fair trade store. I picked up a bag of Peruvian coffee and a black notebook with rope binding and handmade pages.

Then we sat down at Cafe de Soleil (probably my favorite coffeehouse). The coffee there is a little averge, but the enviroment there is euphoric (big word that sounds cool / not sure what it means). the tables are misshapen, the walls have off color paint, and the cups they use are random and chipped- the kind of cups you would find sitting on a thrift store shelf, but cafe has this very open and comfortable feel. its the kind of place you could sit and listen to the traffic, watch interesting people walk by, and write very content prose... if you like, writing that is. who doesen't like writing?

It might just be my oustide bias, as a person who does not live on Commercial, but to me Commercial seems like the "too good to be true" place to live. I feel pretty at home on that street.

I think if i I lived here i would turn a little weird, and write very eyebrow raising prose, just like Douglas Copeland. Or i might turn vegetarian, start an acoustic folk band, and grow a hippy beard.

maybe i'll stick with my townhouse in the heart of Abbotsford for now. I'll admit, Abbotsford doesen't seem to have a lot of heart, but i love a lot of people who live there and everything i need is within walking distance. So i'm not too worried yet. I'll save the worrying for when i'm done school in two years... or i could just not worry ever.

mmm. i can't wait to try this new coffee.

three sisters

some occurrences.

My brother fell 4o feet on a hiking trip in Canmore, a couple days ago. He's at the Calgary hospital right now. He broke three bones in his back, but he's not paralyzed. miracles happen.

of stars and coming storms

...but after vast valleys I am so ready for this
low notch in the gorge, the intimate cottonwoods
lifting their leafy skirts and blowing their soft
kisses into my tent on the wasteland’s stringy
breath. The spaces between the gusts are rich
with silence. I am ready to stay, sleep, dream,
breathe the grace of wind and earth that is
never too much, and more than I will ever need...

-luci shaw, tenting escalante