017

I may be this thing, 

you call human

I am composed of flesh

but my thoughts are deceiving:

I’d say I like time with friends. Planning trips, or meetings brings some contextualized joy to the hum-drum of everything. 


And yet I love being able to deny an invitation. I just want the invitation—I don’t want to go, i just love feeling loved and being able to deny the extended graciousness. 


But really, coffee meetings: they happen all to often and the colloquial “lets get____” becomes the scapegoat broad strokes planning for missed connections or business meetings. 


It is enjoyable, especially if there is minimal effort in getting to the shop, and the coffee is good, there are no screaming babies, and the seats/ambience is comfortable. (If all those things aren’t the case, again, those friends who put up with that stuff are the ones who drive you to the airport, and who like being with you.)


I’ve noticed that coffee conversations take about an hour to complete. From 8 years of living in LA, and taking these meetings with topics from old friends to new projects, sixty minutes is the appropriate timeframe for the ideas to flow, the introductions to happen, the exchanges and judgements be made, and the conclusion because of a parking meter or other meeting to conclude. 


One hour. 


That demarcates a threshold, to me, of how long strangers and sometimes friends can stand being around each other. After that, they begin to shift the conversation and things drag, or they need to leave and reset their social meter because so much has been spent on that conversation. 

One hour. 

Mark it next time.