Youngs Bay Coffee Shop on a Summer Morning

An overcast morning. Youngs Bay appears flat in the distance. I am drinking fine coffee from a fancy mug. I wonder if I write better under the influence of fine coffee instead of Yuban. I need to conduct a study.

A gull flies overhead. I hear traffic coming into town. The weekend has begun. There is no such thing as a weekend for me anymore.

The smell of the impending school year hangs in the air. I used to both relish and dread that smell. It’s no longer part of my life, but still, occasionally, I waft back into the classrooms and recall some of the memorable moments and memorable personalities. There were many.

Lots of chores today. One of them is moving the stock of my Nestucca Spit Press books to a new location. How many tons of these books have I moved over the years? It’s got to be an Oregon record of some kind.

I read the front page story of the NY Times and it was about a rich tech entrepreneur who apparently has gone insane. I think many people into tech or working in tech have gone insane or gravitated to sociopath status. I wonder how historians will compare the tech giants of today with the Robber Barons from yesteryear. To me, the current crop is ten times richer, more powerful, more insidious, infinitely cooler, and in league with The State to monitor and monetize everything about us. They also don’t build libraries in rural cities across the country. One wonders if there will ever be a huge cultural backlash against their power and ideology. It probably is too late to resist because how can you exist in the modern world without using even the most basic form of tech? We are intertwined and enslaved. I have to use the tech giants to post this blog and conduct communication with a potential employer. There just seems no getting around it unless you live off the grid, and I can’t, although I want to.

Maybe there is something to this writing on fine coffee!

Sun is threatening. I actually would prefer a good, tourist-disillusioning summer rain. It’s the only weapon left for the Oregon Coast.

After the chores, the beach beckons. Then a lengthy ass-to-chair session on a new editorial endeavor. Or I will bag the new editorial endeavor and begin a new literary endeavor. There is a difference.