bierkergaard

Well, I think my Jamaica essays, if they were a cup of coffee and each blog a sip, have come to an end. No promises though.  I did write an epic 27 pager of the trip (photos included) for Coffee Lovers magazine. The owner of the magazine is interested in publishing the tome from the way it sounds. If not, I will pitch it elsewhere. I make a decision to write for my own reasons and if others wind up wanting to read it, all the better. Feel the same way about this blog. I have no expectations. I give freely. But, actually, I would like to get paid for the piece.  People piss on what they don't pay for. It is human nature, Mon.   I have found my writing mojo in that I pick topics that I have a high degree of interest in (beer, culture, writing, travel, coffee, theology) and then place myself in the middle of a story somewhere. My task is just to report what I observe in my own particular and peculiar style. Sad to say that I don't think fiction is a talent of mine. I like

As I was getting ready to board my plane to Jamaica, the sleeve and cuff of my windbreaker ripped. The windbreaker was a traveler's special because it is light, waterproof, surprisingly warm in pinch (traps body heat), and has three zippered pockets, plenty of room to stuff personal belongings like keys and phones while going through TSA. My back-pack already had a rip in at the top and my big travel bag was ripping at the bottom. All three have been discarded and replaced by new gear, upgraded to boot. I now have a sleek black windbreaker.   I wasn't real sad to see the old windbreaker have its swan song. It looked like a seriously old man piece of clothing. Something an old duffer would wear out on the golf course on a cool day. When I was in California last Spring for the L.A. Festival of Books, I spotted another dude wearing the same jacket. He looked really uncool. My L.A. screenwriter buddy was wearing his fashionable leather coat. I was sporting AARP-wear.   Tear