The Devil Wept

WP Daily Prompt Asks: What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?

The fact is, I don’t  luxury things, I love simple things like writing and reading and playing music. I do get why people love their bits of luxury, They give you a sweet high that won’t rot you lungs or you brain.

But there is  one luxury item that people claim makes them able to go out into the world bright eyed and bushy tailed with all of their psychotic urges under control ( or masked under cream and spices )  that truly confounds me and that luxury item  is coffee.

They will pay any price for their coffee- they will drive through storms and plague infested streets for their coffee.

Case in point- here is a type of coffee that costs an astronomical amount of money and  despite the fact it comes out of an animal’s backside people love it, they need it-  read on:

Kopi luwak, also known as civet coffee, is a coffee that consists of partially digested coffee cherries, which have been eaten and defecated by the Asian palm civet (Paradoxurus hermaphroditus). The cherries are fermented as they pass through a civet’s intestines, and after being defecated with other fecal matter, they are collected. The origin of kopi luwak is closely connected to the history of coffee production in Indonesia; Dutch colonialists established coffee plantations in Indonesia and imported beans from Yemen. In the 19th century, farmers in central Java started to brew and drink coffee from excreted beans collected at their plantations. ( Wkikipedia )

I don’t know exactly what drove the farmers in Central Java to start brewing and drinking Civet poop, I have no idea why some people consider it a delicacy. But I think the Devil wept when he discovered that one of his tortures designed to make  Coffee lovers despair for all eternity in the darkest regions of Hell  was going for up to 500.00 dollars a pound in the United States.

I think that the day that happened, the Devil wept.

AI Artwork by The Pumpkin Empress

Back to the test kitchens for all of those hard working demons with over active imaginations.

Better luck next time guys.



I Had One Job, Just One Job

Daily Prompt asks: What jobs have you had?

Teatro Verdi in Busseto Photographer Unknown

I’ve had one job- I’ve been tied to retail since I was a teenager.

I would like to say that despite the fact I came from a family that were convinced I was destined to fail, I heroically rose above that harsh destiny they prepared me for- but  I didn’t.

Failure was coded into my DNA. But I’ll cut them some slack, to their credit my family did  prepare me to never amount to anything ,  so as I met one failure after another I did manage to get through it. I mean some people are destroyed when they fail. I just went out in search of my next failure like some Pioneer Girl riding  with her Ma and Pa in a covered wagon   jacked up on Red Bull and looking for her next big adventure.

I never went to college, I never aimed for higher then a minium wage job.

But there was a time when I worked as a Mortician’s Apprentice and I never considered that a job, I considered it a calling.

Unfortunately, shortly after I started my apprenticeship  I contracted  Graves Disease ( Funny, right? It’s a thyroid condition ) and it ran undiagnosed for about a year. In that time my health was failing. No matter how much I ate I lost weight, my hair was falling out and my hands were always shaking. I also started to suffer from a depression and was losing my ability to concentrate.

I thought that the pressure of the work was wearing me down- that I wasn’t cut out for it and it seemed to be true to what I had been raised to believe. I had aimed higher then what I capable of and I failed. My body, which was in a ruinous state at this point proved it.

I wasn’t diagnosed with Graves Disease until after I had left my Apprenticeship and I never went  back.  Sometimes I wish I had. It’s not like I couldn’t do the work, that I wasn’t good at it because I was.

I actually beat out Apprentices who had gone to Mortuary College ( which was not available in Washington state at that time ) for that position so that is a fact that the  girl who was born to be good for nothing couldn’t downplay or minimize.

The funny thing is my  ‘failure’ at the Cemetery and Funeral home actually did set me down a path that I was probably met to be on the entire time.

Since I was a little kid every teacher I had were encouraging me to develop my writing skills. Be a writer they said. You’re good they said.

The world is full of writers my family said. Don’t expect much they said. Work at the Mall they said. Remember the world is full of writers that nobody has ever heard of.   It’s crazy to think you’d be any different.

Anyway, after I left the Mortuary  I picked up a job in a warehouse and as depressing as that may sound, it turned out to be a good gig because after I took this job I have been able to work on my writing.

Say what you will about what I write here, but over the past 12 or more years I’ve actually improved. So that’s a plus. Also, I  think that the area of Seattle I work in- as well as the building itself have been nothing but inspirational.

So I’ve had one job that frankly I have always hated  but lucky for me I’ve had two callings that made up for that.

And I try everyday to be a better writer and to care about my craft because when someone drops a gift in your lap that turns out to be literally priceless it’s probably best to show the Universe a little gratitude.

Teatro Verdi in Busseto Photographer Unknown




Photographer Unknown

What would make the dead want to rise and walk the Earth again? What sweet morsel could you offer them to wake up and run again?

Would that delicious  amuse-bouche be the memory of their loved ones who moved on without them years before they died? The taste of fully loaded baked potatoes? Theatre Popcorn with extra butter?

Would you serve them, on a delicate porcelain plate, shaped like delicate lace cookies,  images of  time as it ground their bodies to dust starting on the day they were born ?

What would make a collection of bones, held together by suit or a dress and maybe a shroud or a blanket, want to push their way  out of their cool dark quiet and nightmare free coffin and back into the world?

I think if the dead could rise and walk the Earth again, they wouldn’t.