Day 188: 319 Words About Teacups
I didn’t know what to write today. This should come as no surprise, because I never know what to write. Yesterday, I did a jazz exploration on the word, “stretch”, which would also be an appropriate word to describe what I’m counting as writing some days. I needed something quick and simple, but not short and stupid. My baton experiment worked somewhat, so I figured I ought to try that again. A random number of words about a random object. I knew I was going to write about teacups. I could feel it in my bones. I asked Rachel to name a random object. She took a long sip from her coffee [from a mug] and said, “teacup”. So here’s 319 words about teacups.
I fucking knew she would say that. Even though she was drinking coffee out of a coffee mug, I knew it was the first object her attention would draw to. When you’re asked to ponder something, your initial reaction is to position your head forward. If you’re told to pick a random object, chances are, it will be the one right in front of you. And directly in her eye line is a collection of teacups.
Over the years, I’ve come to the conclusion that if somebody has a teacup collection, they’re never being used. Rachel’s collection is vast and sacred, most of them heirlooms from her late great grandmother. But Rachel doesn’t drink tea. Actually, that’s not fair. She drinks iced tea, but her receptacles of choice are solo cup, can or straight from the jug. On the rare occasion that she drinks hot tea, she does it out of a coffee mug, like any civilized American. And that makes a whole lot of sense. If I ordered a tea and it came in a teacup, I would feel ripped off. There’s so much tea available and they want to serve it in the smallest possible receptacle. Poppycock.
Although our apartment is decked out in teacups, all with some meaning, the ones that mean the most to me aren’t there. On the contrary, they’re very far away. In California of all places. The Teacup Ride holds a special place in my heart. The first time we rode, there was something about the look on her face when it started to spin. It lit up like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was pure, unadulterated joy. I turned the wheel harder, just to see what would happen, and she couldn’t stop laughing. With the afternoon sunlight shining on her perfect purple hair, I had never in my life seen anyone or anything so beautiful. The moment was absolutely perfect.