Notes from Sunday, July 14, 2013

The Portsmouth Writers Salon had a wonderful meeting this evening. Meeting minutes were emailed out to those present and those not present who mentioned interest.

“I went into my house and set coffee to cooking, and remembering how Roark Bradford liked it, I doubled the dosage, two heaping tablespoons for each cup and two heaping for the pot. I cracked an egg and cupped out the yolk and dropped shells and white into the pot, for I know nothing that polishes coffee and makes it shine like that.

The air was still very cold, and a cold night was coming, so that the brew, rising from cold water to a rolling boil, gave the good smell that competes successfully with other good smells.

My guest was satisfied, and he warmed his hands against the plastic cup. "By your license, you’re a stranger here,” he said. “How do you come to know about coffee?”

"I learned on Bourbon Street from giants in the earth,” I said. “But they would have asked the bean of darker roast, and they would have liked a little chicory for bite." - John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley. 

“It isn’t easy to understand exactly what she is saying, for one doesn’t know whether she is speaking ironically or seriously, it’s mostly serious, but sounds ironic. - “Stop interpreting everything!” said K.” 

― Franz Kafka, The Castle

“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” 

― Neil Gaiman, Coraline

Until next time. 

Keep Writing,

Portsmouth Writers Salon