I stand by the kitchen shelf and watch the machine slowly squeeze crema out of the grounds and into the cup. I watch the kettle huff and puff in the other corner. I think of this act I have done a million times by now, and if that is hyperbolic, a few thousand times would be a good count. Unlike the coffee, not a lot comes out of the thought, but I still think about it, about the intricate mechanical processes behind the simple act of making a cup of coffee for yourself, about how the entirety of science and engineering has contributed to it, about how even the mug I pour both the shot and the warm water in has been around, as a design, for centuries.
The mug is, after all, perfect design, and I often argue with friends at parties and dinners that there was no need for intricate glasses, that the mug was perfection like the plastic chairs found globally are perfection. No matter where it is found, a typical person’s plastic chair looks precisely the same. No matter what neighbourhood you are in and what country the neighbourhood is a part of, the chair and the mug remain. We only add complexity on top of things when they cannot be made any simpler.
There is often no insight in life, just beauty and banality in equal measure. We live our lives day after day, and then, we are asked, “What have you learned?” Nothing. I have learned to live my life. Nothing could be any more or any less important to me. But none of what I have learned can serve as some grand truth or philosophy. As a writer, I am expected to peddle meaning to you while you haggle with me about the cost and tell me to “write shorter pieces”. It has been twelve years since I first called myself a writer, and I have still not found my way. This makes me chuckle on this fine December day.
Do not ask me about meaning or what I am trying to say in these words. I have as much to say as you do, and if you think you have nothing to say, then grant me the same privilege. I do not have answers. I make coffee in the morning, move my body a little when I can motivate myself, work at a job I sometimes enjoy, and, on most days, try to help someone when I am out for a walk. I reckon that is about all one can do.