first, you learn to hurry. then, to hang around a bit.
remember your dad's coffee breath? maybe you were lucky enough that your dad assistant coached your baseball team. and so he came to like two-thirds of your practices and holy fuck there's been 147 school shootings this decade?!? interesting, though, that most of them led to 0 deaths. and very few of them had more than 2 or 3 deaths. (not to suggest for a second that those deaths weren't meaningful.) but i think that's strongly suggestive that the reason this shooting is resonating in a different way is because so many more students died this time. and, sure, the kids happen to be motivated, and pro-gun control, but previous school shootings were smaller in scope and less gruesome and less scary and fucking mother fucker how did i get roped into thinking about this again. it's constant. gotta stop. gotta stop...
so anyway. your assistant coach dad with his styrofoam hat. he was almost always there. at nearly every game. and inevitably. at every single game. you'd get shit-scared of some pitcher's slightly wild pitches. and higher-than-average-cuz-we're-fucking-twelve-and-how-does-any-twelve-year-old-throw-like-that speed. and you'd be up to bat. and you'd take your stance on the very outer edge of the batter's box. and you'd swing at three of the sloppiest pitches you ever did see then. and shrug your shoulders and hurry back to the dugout. and your dad (and everyone else) could see your fear with his eyes closed. and would summon you over with a quick little finger hook. and you'd run over all innocent and he'd grab you by the shoulders and almost shake you and tell you...
wait a minute. why was this parkland shooting more gruesome and scary and deadly than other school shootings? the only explanation is the weapon used. if he was using a knife. or a less deadly weapon. the coward couldn't possibly have mowed down so many excited, excitable students.
anyway, your dad would tell you that you better climb up into that batter's box next time and face those pitches like a man. and you could see in his eyes just how badly he wanted to tell that he'd "give you something to be scared of". and so you choked up your fear. tapped your bat on home plate. wondered how your dad's coffee breath got so bad. crouched into your stance. watched the pitcher wind up. and took one straight to the left temple. ... you came out of your concussion on the bleachers in your ma's lap. the drive home was quiet.
that's what we think about when we think about coffee. we have similar memories of beer. more strongly associated, though, with sunday mornings in high school when our grandma would comment on our stench at church.
anyway! we made a nice little coffee beer with our friends from gaslight coffee roasters for the the uppers and downers coffee and beer fest. tomorrow morning! in pilsen! at thalia hall! get your tickets here before they sell out. i know it's virtually there already.
and if you're already going, swing by our stand. we blended our bright-funky-fruity brett beer with a special coffee from the beloya washing station in ethiopia. it's called *YOU WERE TIRED*. and we can hardly stop comparing it to amazing things we've tasted. all in the past, of course.
now you have coffee breath. and, sometimes, beer breath. and it's bad. but you might as well hang around others with the same affliction. and sure: if we banned extra-special deadly weapons like the one used at parkland, such cowardly criminals could still get them on the black market. but would they? query: all these mass murderers use semi-automatic weapons. why don't they use fully-automatic weapons? is it because fully automatic weapons are harder to get, perhaps?
@lucyhewett framed this shot, steadied her hand, and pressed her finger to the camera trigger.