Words from Union Street Coffee House. Post #88

The time is 6:37 AM in San Francisco, and the date is June 19th. I am writing to you from Union Street Coffee House. In between the HP Pavilion dv7 I lug around, and the Our Place Bar & Grill shirt on my back, there is a blueberry scone and a cup of coffee. The coffee is black, and I am quite enjoying it. I have a 9:30 AM meeting at MAC’D today, but that is not for over two and a half hours still, so here I sit, and I’ll be damned if I don’t write.

There is a girl at the counter. She ordered a latte with a triple shot of espresso.

In San Francisco many of the coffee shops do not open until 7 AM. The homeless problem is palpable, and the business’ which stay open at odd hours attract a destitute crowd. Depending on the day of the week one could associate me with such a crowd; ironically, I can link up with a cup-a-joe 24-7 in this city. Today is my first time at Union Street Coffee House however, and I will most certainly be back. An important factor in my judgment of USCH is the superior scone quality. The one I ate was fluffy, it was not too sweet, and the blueberries added that subtle freshness I have come to expect from, very precisely, a good blueberry scone. They also offer a currant scone, which appears to have a higher density than it’s blueberry counterpart. The gentleman working the counter informed me a Currant is ‘like a raisin but smaller.’ You can read about Currants here.

It was long ago that I fell in love with scones. The first scone I ever ate was probably blueberry, but I know for a fact it came from a place called John Harbors Coffee Shop in my hometown of Menomonee Falls, WI. My friend and former roommate Devyn was a long time barista at John Harbors, far before our 9 month stint of living together. My friends and I would gather every Friday night at John Harbors Coffee Shop, and can you guess what we did? Coffee & Cigarettes, you already know. I was a smoker of cigarette’s for over 10 years, quitting for 9 months when I was 19, and currently I haven’t smoked a cigarette since October of last year. That fact is besides the point, especially being that I no longer associate drinking coffee with smoking cigarettes, but forever, until recently, I did. John Harbors Coffee Shop played an important part in my growth as a teenager. I tell people I practically grew up in a coffee shop, and when those words leave my mouth, this is the coffee house of which I am referring. I have long been attracted to the idea of finding a quite cafe to write, and at the tender young age of 14 when those desires began to hit me, John Harbors was there to accept my dreams with open arms. My friends and I would play acoustic concerts on Friday and Saturday nights. Jeremy, the owner, would allow us to open for a paid act, or maybe he just needed to fill a spot sometimes. There was a time I was less concerned with the logistics of life, and so less questions were asked on my part. My group of friend’s was large, and the coffee was always free for us. Occasionally there was free food, but in contrast to the coffee, free food was not encouraged by the owner. Unfortunately there is no money in supporting the dreams of children, and eventually John Harbors went out of business. They made it several years, and since the overhead on coffee is so low my friends and I probably had minimal impact, still however I did learn an important lesson about money by observing the John Harbors Coffee Shop epoch. I was there with Deyvn, Jeremey, his wife Erin, and another employee; a women with long blond dreadlocks who’s name I believe was also Erin, when the restaurant close for the final time. We smoked a cigarette inside the building just for shits and gigs, but also because Devyn was bold enough to ask, and Jeremy was cool enough to say ‘Sure.’ Those were the days.

The time is now 7:52 AM in San Francisco, and I just took a poop in the Union Street Coffee House bathroom. I rate the poop a measly 4/10, but I rate the bathroom 8/10. It’s clean, it’s cozy, and you must ask for a key to obtain admittance to the restroom, providing for a secure bathroom experience both mentally and physically. Ugh. I still have a significant amount of time to fill with activity before my work meeting begins. This isn’t the end of the world, as I am enjoying my time here writing, however I should not consume more coffee, and at what point does Paying Customer turn to Loiterer? The older I get the more I realize: coffee has always made me anxious and a little sweaty. Nowadays I try to maintain constant vigilance in regards to that. I can very easily consume 4 cups of coffee before noon, killing time in a coffee shop, and that usually leads to me not feeling the greatest.

I just got a second cup of coffee, but this time, and for one of the first times in my life, I ordered decafe. I have yet to really dive into it; still hot. I also reviewed my first pay stub, issued from Square Pay, and I am disappointed to find I was paid $15.00 an hour, when the wage agreed upon at my interview was $17.00 an hour. I am disappointed to a significant degree, and while this morning I was in limbo about getting a second job, I am now all but certain it is the only choice. Since I can not receive direct deposit (I don’t have a bank account), I will eventually receive a paper check for $846.61. There was a point in my life where I may think that amount to be enough, but those days are behind us, and today I want more; tomorrow I will want more still. I want to gift Future Chris with as much money as possible, because I know he will appreciate that. Oh! I just remembered I need to apply for a passport, so that will be happening soon after I receive my check. Once I have a passport in my hands; my first ever passport, I will be able to manifest fully my daydreams of abroad travel and nightmares of entrepreneurial failure. The goal will be palpable instead of a simple blueprint. I will get on a plane and commence to cross the ocean. I have intentions of going to Wisconsin and visiting family prior to my departure. This all feels so far away, but if I want to maintain my constant vigilance in regards to the future, I need to work my arse off in the present; that is all I know.

The time is now 8:45 AM in San Francisco, and I am signing off. I am going to string this piece of writing together with the next, because that’s what I feel The Move is. I’m just going to play around on the internet until the meeting.


Lower Bottoms, Oakland in the 60’s.

I am now writing to you from SPARC. I gave the gentleman who was next to me just moments ago one of my business cards, so Hello to you sir, if you’ve made it to the site, thank you for joining. The current time is 12:22 PM in San Francisco, and since I signed off around 8:45 I have: attended the first of two meetings (the second being tomorrow night) for my work, taken a shower, booked Wednesday night at the Adelaide hostel, and furthermore I have secured a future at Adelaide. Nothing is set in stone, but I believe you will be finding me there off and on until my departure from San Francisco.

Just had a long conversation with another gentleman at SPARC who happened to sit down next to me. Eventually the conversation came to my old neighborhood in Oakland, and he confirmed it to be called ‘The Lower Bottoms.’ I have known folks to mistake it for South Prescott. I often spoke of the Post Office next to my house in Oakland, and the man sitting next to me grew up in the neighborhood which that post office replaced. He spent his childhood on and Atlantic. The man has left SPARC now. We got deep in conversation about an abundance of things, and I am happy to tell he spoke joyously of life. There was a club called Slim Jenkins of which he spoke highly; summing up a lifetime in solemn As Is fashion. About the life of Slim Jenkins my friend said, ‘Ask anybody from the 60’s or 70’s they’ll know Slim Jenkins. After a while he moved to Jack London square, and then eventually he passed away.’ I wish I could remember the gentleman’s name with which I had discussed all this, but alas I cannot. He introduced himself by first and last name, and insisted I need not need to stand in order to shake his hand; a true and kind man I sensed immediately, much older than I, but of youthful soul. He has inspired me to trek to the library and seek old maps of Oakland. I then work at 4:30 PM. The time now is 2:02 PM in San Francisco, and I am signing off for the second time today. I am beginning to think I will string this post, #87, into many a piece of writing. I hope you continue to stay with me.


Woo! I have the day off from MAC’D! The time is 7:09 AM. I am at Union Street Coffee House for the second day in a row, and I am really starting to like the place. Good prices, great pastries (today it’s a blueberry bran muffin to die for. I love bran tho), and to boot they roast their own coffee right in the middle of the damn common area. I am occupying two tables very close to the roasting machine, and I have commandeered all three available outlets for my computer, phone, and spare battery.

My plans for the day are quite bare-bones. Eventually I will leave this coffee shop and probably head to SPARC. I have a reservation at the Adelaide tonight, and I am very excited to see me friend Guaz, a young man I shared a room with last time I stayed at Adelaide; a fellow traveler, and one of the many wonderful folks I have met from Israel. Eventually I intend to travel to Israel. I have stated before that believe Hebrew to be the most beautiful language, and I also respect it’s modern day roots. Now I tell you that all the people of Israel are nice and helpful people. The men are all required to join the military for at least two years, and if you run into them directly after they are discharged you will be meeting an Israeli high on testosterone: please hangup and try again later. All my interactions have been good, but the feeling might be different if those interactions had been that of a man hitting on me; that’s the testosterone rearing it’s ugly head. Guaz also happened to recognize me from the Green Tortoise, which accelerated our friendship. I had a slight inkling of meeting him as well, but we had spoken while I was flipping beds, and so I was probably hauling ass both physically and mentally. OMG, yall! I just saw my first batch of unroasted coffee beans. They are blond. The beans also must grow in size when they are roasted, because the blond beans this gentleman is feeding into the top of the machine are tiny. Obviously I have never given much thought to an unroasted coffee bean. Ahh…It really is a beautiful thing, The Present. Slowly, and then all at once: I gain control over my Monkey Mind and gather unto myself a greater tolerance for patience. When meditation becomes a healthy, repetitive part of life, the world around you starts to shrink until it fits in the palm of your hand. In a universe where everything is relative, and human emotions are safe not, maintaining constant vigilance in regards to that relativity is key. When your relativity is properly aligned, and you are not saddened by the ‘Virtual Slump’ which is commonplace in our society nowadays (a phenomenon brought to you by the internet), discovery of an unroasted coffee bean can be as exciting as discovering fire…5000 years ago. The time is now 8:01 AM in San Francisco.


The time is now 9:12 AM in SF, and I have migrated to SPARC. I have the vape set at 342 degrees Fahrenheit, and am about to grind some herb up and fill a bag with smoke. The bag is filling up currently. I’m inhaling. This is the first time I’ve set the volcano as low as 342 degrees, but I can still see smoke when I exhale. I suppose that means I could go even lower. I am smoking sativa, and I am not sure if that makes a difference; maybe sativa burns at a lower temperature. It is less dense than indica, but a grinder kind of evens the score.

I very much feel on track to accomplishing my goal of: self sustaining my writing. I am not doing any freelance writing…yet. I still might end up doing such a thing; I will probably be seeking remote work once I have left the country. MAC’D > Freelance Writing at this point in time. I should really get a second job in the city, but my overwhelming desire to write casts a grey-area shadow over the entirety of my free time. Am I using it wisely? Well, in this case, the end will justify the means. Anyone who thinks that is not a proper way to go about things, I am sorry to say I believe different. I am in the capitol representative city for Peace & Love, do not act as if I lack compassion. If you are led to such a conclusion, I ask you to ponder what kind of things I might have a passion for, and I will tell you it is not working hard to support other people. Unfortunate it sounds, but life is a tough fucking master, and you are just a subordinate meatsuit with a soul. If you are not vigilant, you will end up old and dwelling on the past rather than basking in it. If you’re under 45 and life seems easy, you’re doing it wrong. If you’re over 45 and life seems hard, you’ve been doing it wrong a long time. No one who can rise before dawn 360 days a year fails to make their family rich! Are we not in agreement? But damn, it doesn’t sound easy.

In 1953 there was born a woman. This woman was my boss for many months, and she taught me more about hardwork than anyone I have ever had the absolute pleasure of knowing. You will hear about her many more times here on the Heart Of Zeus blog, and her name is LP.


LP was a rice farmer in Guangzhou, China. She arrived in San Francisco in 2003, and through a personal connection she gained employment at Golden Gate Bakery, serving some of the most sought after goods in Chinatown. 1 year after arriving in America, LP garnered employment at Green Tortoise Hostel, where she continues to work. Last year LP purchased a house in San Mateo that includes additional property she can rent out; the house is beautiful, I saw pictures. Her children are doing well for themselves, and her grandchildren are well on their way to success. Kelly speaks Chinese and English equally well. LP’s mother is 97 with all of her faculties in working order. An extensive history of hardwork has determined her defaults, and they make for a respectable individual with many facets. Rice farming is not fucking easy. I recently read a book titled Outliers, and at the end of the book author Malcolm Gladwell talked a lot about rice farming. I found it quite ironic how my reading of that scripture aligned perfectly with my swelling respect for LP. She still rises before dawn 360 days a year, and she has made her family rich. The time is 10:29. I’ve overstayed the SPARC 30 minute allowance. My bad.


The time…wow, I almost was gonna say ‘is getting repetitive,’ but then. poof. I realized that is impossible, and a devastating oxymoron. I haven’t always stated the time before I’ve started writing, but as of late…well you get it, I be talking like I’m just fucking sitting there, chillin like a criminal, on your couch telling you about my day. When I move past #100 the vulgarity might simmer down a bit. And I’m not even that bad, let’s get real. But still, I desire to have a wide, wide, wide audience. I think everyone can enjoy Hosteling, ASMR, Hardwork, and Turpitude.

Being Educated is…well it’s like the fifth element. At the end of the day. Fuck. Everyone, and I mean everyone enjoys it. Education in The United States Of America is…out of balance. There are place’s on this planet where children learn much less, and of course there are places where children learn much more, but in America the well Educated tower over the Impoverished with aggression, constantly thrashing the irreversible whip that is capitalism. The ideologies that our leader holds (as well as his big business interests, and others like him who are literally raping the land and society they also call home), are rooted in selfish, lazy gains. Yes. I said lazy. The future consists of American Presidents and Economic Societal Leaders whose plans and ideas are rooted in meditative thought, and long term sustainability. If we want to save the planet, we need to, all of us, every human, put the compost, recycling, and garbage in the correct container/bin. If we want a powerful country, we need to make sure every man, woman, and child is in on the same mother-fucking information and opportunities! We can not have some people needing to sell drugs in order to purchase food, while others have assets that sit vacant, giving very real family security. In the future, when everyone is given the best education this world has to offer, what good will money do us? Everyone will know the value of everything, and the problem with bartering will be nixed. That was the original issue, right? ‘Smart’ people ripping off ‘Stupid’ people? I imagine all at once the governments, as well as the people, had wanted a new, better system. No one could possibly of known the value of all the new items coming into their territory, the era in between: the start of world trade and: the start of money, must have been hectic. Until the internet recently connected us all, that period of discovery was, perhaps, unprecedented. So money made sense a long time ago. And today it still makes sense. But the faster we even the playing field in regards to the education of our citizens, the sooner we can overcome the next issue that will hit our society. An issue that I can phrase as a question: Who are the Hardworkers?

In contemplating how to proceed with my ramble, I came to one newsworthy conclusion: the term “bloodlines,” is hardly contemporary, and for all intents and purposes has a closer relation to old English than the modern counterpart. There are too many people on this planet to have “bloodlines” be considered now a days. I believe that in the future we will still have Very Rich people, and Very Poor people, and we (in America) will eventually have more of a middle class, and all societies will move toward this, but the tumbling of wealth will happen with far more rapidity than ever before in the history of humanity. This will bring about a comfortable norm. The Rich with continue to donate to humanitarian causes, and the poor with keep attempting to change the course of their lives.

Having contained the destruction of our planet by means of New and Fair Government’s, whose purposes focus more on science than personal and territorial interests, the push for Space Exploration will be global, and everyone will be racing to claim their own bit of the sky! War will occur! And the lucky one’s who make it off the planet will probably die of Space Madness! The time is 2:10 PM in San Francisco.


I am stoned like a heretic, and the time is 11:49 PM in San Francisco. I am at the Dakota Hotel, sitting next to a women named Kota who I met during my last occupancy. I can say I am impressed with the Adelaide and have absolute certainty about that statement. The man who owns the place interests me highly. I aim to get to know him. Is it wrong of me to want the knowledge required for a real comparison between this man, and Gardner Kent, a man I consider to know fairly well. Gardner and I spent some time together, and I was been blessed in speaking to him mono-e-mono for a solid span of three months. I learned a fuck load; a metric shit-ton of stuff and priceless information from Gardner Kent. I am part of the Green Tortoise, and the Green Tortoise is part of me. But damn. I really like the Adelaide in a new, exciting, and vibrant way. I have already had an experience that I feel better prepares me for world traveling in hostels, and the kind of aggression and wantonness I may experience in traversing those hostile grounds.

This is turning into quite a long piece of writing, I am noticing, at this point. How long should I make it? This did not take me very long to write. Should I just write a book at this point: Should I just write the book of which I have been talking about? Long now, three weeks or more, I have contemplated an in depth preview and discussion of The Book in my blog, but I have yet to follow through on the prospect. Alas…right now…as I sit in the Adelaide, I am going to type it down. What remains at the end, we shall see.

Chris (signed after the fact)

Turns out it was nothing that remains, because upon awaking this morning, the following day, I rethought my decision to do something stupid; an art I have been taming, with the help of my father, since I was a wee lad. I am still looking at the words I have written, they sit directly below what I am typing now, floating downward slowly as I continue my rant. These words are meant for a different time, but probably not a different place. I am rebooting The Book. Still I intend to write a book. In fact, as time is moving on, and I write more and more, the idea of writing a book becomes a graspable fathom. I am very disorganized still, I know, or at least, I feel this. But my intentions are good, and my stories are finding themselves, which was one of my biggest fears and lacks. I never believe I have a good story, and I never really produce a good outline either. But when I get to traveling, and changing this website, and my time is more freed-up…I will be writing more…and more and more, and practicing my craft. Basically I have decided I am not ready to write a book yet, and one major factor that I am not wanting to change is: I am too distracted with my website. Heart Of Zeus feels right, and I don’t intend to shy away from that. The time is 2:40 PM on June 21, 2018, and I am in Union Street Coffee House, eating a blueberry crumble muffin, and drinking a black coffee. Tomorrow Jo comes back from Yosemite. I am very excited for her return. We will drink coffee. Maybe at the Union Street Coffee House, maybe at one of the diners downtown, maybe at her humble abode. Only time will tell. I really miss her though. Very excited for Jo to come back. (We ate at Louis’ Cafe, overlooking the ocean. Thanks Jo! You’re beautiful).

When I talk about the future now, I talk about it differently than I did. Travel to India almost seems…a certainty. As soon as I receive my latest paycheck, I will be proceeding…with acquisition of my first passport…did I already discuss this? Some girl just came into USCH, sat down for 30 seconds, tried the bathroom door, and left. I would have at least asked for the key, come on. It is right on the counter anyway… The people here are nice, and to me they seem to run a fine business and I bet they would have let that young women use the bathroom. Her loss. My distraction.

I am so excited to apply for my passport. I want to decide what city I am traveling to. I will be writing about the whole process. Things are still so much at an infantile stage that changing of my plans is not something I am scared of. Maybe I should write more about general traveling, rather than hosteling? I am really not sure. How am I going to feel when I get to India? I really don’t know. If I don’t stay in the hostels, where will I stay? The hotels? That doesn’t seem likely. I don’t feel that in my bones at all. I feel in love with hostels. I remember watching Hey Arnold! as a kid. I asked about the type of environment his house was, and that was how I learned about a boarding house. I thought it was the coolest thing; he got to meet all sorts of strange people. Many people are strange, few of them are dangerous, I’ve found; albeit danger exists. My thoughts had never turned to a life including Hostels, which was a medium of hospitality I had been aware of, but until someone I knew personally told a story about their experience tradeworking in a hostel… It just never occurred to me. But, Wow. The desire to input myself into that type of environment came immediately. The confidence and fortitude which I needed to gather, in the end, took 6 months of discipline, and patience to obtain.

Usually, or at least in the recent months as my approach to blogging has endured and, yet even matured, I have edited my posts inside of WordPress. This post I may edit a little differently (I’m editing right now, and: success, not in WordPress. If I edit in WordPress the work is not saved anywhere but my website. I’m just editing in my word processor, and I will save one version of all articles in the end; no first drafts). I use Open Office for my word processor. I have given much thought of switching to the Google doc’s format entirely, including the use of their word processor; I am just not sure. I wish the variety of word processors available was wider, but I am just looking for a distraction at that point? The fact is: OpenOffice (not that Microsoft Word didn’t, I suppose, but Go, free BSD!), certainly gets the job done. I digress (rather than start with a fresh paragraph, I’ll just say I digressed), the point of this section was to inform you that I have decided to publish this article tomorrow, June 22nd. When you read this, it’ll feel like you knew the future all along. Or something as such. Tomorrow will be good, yes it will. I am excited. I am excited to be working for many of the upcoming days, and I am prepared to handle this renewed income. I will be buying a lot of things, yet doing my best to live frugally. Right now in fact, I will put down my pixel-shooter, getting another cup-a-joe, and…oh shit. The WiFi appears to be down. Damn, I was going to prod around on Google Earth, India, and then maybe look at lightweight laptops online. Well, shit. I am going to get the coffee.

I got the coffee, and I feel good about it. I asked about the internet, and the lady said it is working. I don’t think she knows that statement is not true. The crowd in San Francisco is the kind to bring WiFi with them anyway. So I haven’t opened up Google Maps. Although I do have Google Earth downloaded, but I am thinking that probably take internet to use. I will, eventually, try. For now I will ramble a little more about my limitless possibilities that lie ahead in India. (Update: It was probably just my computer. The next day I thought the WiFi was still down, but I saw other people using it, so I just futzed with my machine until the magic happened and I was connected again).

On Instagram, which has long since become my most used platform for social media, I find out a lot about the world. I see pictures hashtagged from all around the globe. Amateur landscape photography of Africa is only a few thumb-clicks away, My Friends. And one place that has jumped out to me as an interesting, and apparently popular spot, is Varanassi, India. The pictures I see of this place make it look enjoyable. The problem with travel is, the whole world is just to much! You can’t experience it all! There is too much beauty for us to compute, and this must be why we have time limits; expiration dates. I have given much thought to how I want to live my life; what kind of things would make me happy. First, and only last year, I decided I desired a passion. I wanted something of which I possessed an absolute mastery over; a skill. Writing. My passion for writing stemmed from my unavoidable habit of rambling on to people. I am, without an inch of a doubt, a rambling man. I just talk to people forever. I probably repeat myself a lot as well. But as I thought and thought, and pondered and pondered about life, I realized there was a real gift to my gab. If only I could generate locomotion in a bountiful direction. Thusly, my spark of creativity in regards to writing was reignited (I wrote a little when I was younger). I can ramble at my computer, and if I practice patience perpetually, I believe strongly I will find success. Write. Edit. Get feedback. Change the website? Always stay true to myself, and the people who believe in me.

The first thing I decided was that I wanted a passion, and I have been decided it and practiced with fair diligence for over a year now, and damn, it just feels good to say! And talk about!

Lets talk about the second thing I have decided I want out of life. I have already spoken about my learning of Boarding Houses, and how hostels filled a void in my life I didn’t understand until their assimilation unto my life. But hosteling is more of a prerequisite; a learning venture if you will, in preparation for two other major desires in my life. The desire to integrate myself well and forge myself a new home in some distant land; a foreign community. And the desire to fulfill an entrepreneurial hunger. India is settling in as my destination. Perhaps I will forge myself a new life there indeed. This is all future talk now.

I just realized that we could easily do breakfast at MAC’D, and we would only have to be serving custom omelets. So if MAC’D eventually goes that route for breakfast, you heard it here first. They don’t call me Chrisfucius for no reason.

So I will tell you, my friends, what I think I know about travel, today, as I sit here. The time is 4:05 PM in SF. I am still in USCH.

When one travels to another country, they will need a passport. Their are exceptions to this rule, but I will be writing for individuals who do not shy away from getting their passport. So you have your passport now. Yay! Well before you travel there are many factors to consider. First, consider your health. Where will your body allow you to travel? What kind of vaccinations are needed? How long is the flight? Once you know where you are headed, you need to find out if you need a visa. You will probably need a visa, and sometimes they can be expensive. A visa is a document that certifies you are legally allowed to remain in a certain county, and the visa also states how long you can remain in said country. I get a feeling it will always be easier to obtain your visa prior to arrival, but in some countries you can get a visa upon arrival. The complex web that is international relations is not easy to traverse, and so I will be writing mostly for American passport holders.

Once you have the visa situation figured out, or as I would consider being mentally comfortable with visa’s, their purpose, and everything about them preparation enough, you can move onto: where are you traveling to next? Many countries will not allow you access unless you also provide proof that will leave within the legal allotted time. For their purposes: you could just move in and live in the slums, right? So to keep this problem of illegal immigration at a minimum, proof of onward travel is often required. So not only will I need to buy a plane ticket to India, I will also need to buy a ticket out of the country, dated for before my visa runs out. I believe this is the case. I originally got the idea I could just arrive and float about, but of course nothing is ever so simple. I hope to stay in India for some time, and I believe as an American I can stay in the country for 6 months. So for me to go to India will require purchasing a passport, plane tickets in and out of 1 or more countries (perhaps I go to Cambodia afterward, where I would also have to provide onward travel), and budgeting for my time inside the country(ies). I plan to update my website all along the way, while also changing the infrastructure to provide that of which good preparation is made of, but I am not so sure I will be turning a profit for some time, potentially. It would be wise of me to budget the entire journey before I even left. I guess I am forced to keep hopping around until I return to America. I can’t just land someplace with no plans…lame. Other countries don’t like that though. Hmm. This will be the most planning ahead I will have ever done. I’m a little intimidated, but equally as excited, if not more. Almost certainly more.

I can tell I have drank too much coffee, but here I remain, still consuming the abyss that is: roasted beans. I love the smell and the taste. Caffeine certainly can make me anxious though. I’m sitting here tapping my foot. I know not where I will venture to next today. I need to charge my phone, and I guess I should just be doing that here… Okay, now my phone is plugged in. It looks windy out. I was planning to go to MAC’D and eat a little (I can not walk into MAC’D and simply eat ‘a little,’), also though, I am not as turned on by the prospect of food as I was before I consumed all this coffee. I will probably end up at a park. Hopefully it will be warm. I am hoping to kick it with Guez still before his departure on Sunday. He is taking a bus to Sacramento, a flight to Dallas, a flight to Madrid where he will stay overnight, and finally he will fly out of Madrid and land in Tel Aviv, Israel after 2 days of travel. What a trip my friend is taking to get home! I do look forward to visiting him in his homeland someday. The time is 4:42 PM, and I am going to depart from this coffee house. To a park I go! And then maybe MAC’D later to do some more writing.


The dawn of June 22nd is upon us. Happy Birthday to Me! Also I would like to say Happy Birthday to the man I saw roasting coffee the other day at Union Street Coffee House. I came in this morning for a coffee and a blueberry scone (currently sat in between the computer and I), and when the gentleman asked me about my attitude toward the day (‘How are you today,’ he said), I decided to let him know that today is my birthday. I insinuated that I am doing pretty well by conveying a vibrant tone. The man behind the counter responded with ‘it’s my birthday today too.’ Now at first, I actually thought I misunderstood, but then after a second of logical deduction I concluded that this man whom has been seen me for several days in a row now, must have the same birthday as me. How awesome! I am happy to share my birthday with this man. He roasts some damn good coffee.

I am texting Jo. She is on her way back into town. The Green Tortoise Bus she took to Yosemite is on Treasure Island, and they are tossing the bus. Once she is back in town we are going to meet up and get breakfast. I am excited af to see Jo. She says she’s the only one awake on the bus. Sounds about right.

Well, that’s a wrap. I think it’s about time for some editing and uploading of post #87, probably the longest article, soon to be, on Heart Of Zeus. Some of my earlier stories were 3-4 pages long maybe, but this is 9 pages. If you have made it this far, I congratulate, and thank you. You’re a trooper, and Heart Of Zeus, which is just myself at this point, greatly appreciates your support. I work later today, and my next day off of work is Wednesday, June 27th. I am scheduled for 40 hours a week now at MAC’D, and you know what? I might actually set a serious goal right now to write 20 hours a week. That is a more than doable task. Three hours of writing a day would leave me with wiggle room. Do y’all think I can do it? I have contemplated getting a second job, but I really want my website to be worth my time, and since my time is kind of worthless right now, that equation balances. However lets look at this: if I was working 20 hours a week somewhere besides MAC’D, I would be taking home maybe as much as $600 extra every month. That’s what I was considering paying for rent. Damn. I ended up getting distracted looking at laptops online in between this sentence and the last; lost like 15-20 minutes of editing time. It’s time to post before I get distracted again. The time is 7:11.


* * *

A Note from the future:
You can now support my work directly using Patreon or Venmo!
After writing for over three years, I have confidence my hardwork is showing through,
and so I have no shame is giving my readers an option support my work.
Thanks in advance!