The Coffee Men Are Mad At Me

the coffee men are mad at me.
it is true.
i am at my usual joint, using the internet, sipping delicious caffeinated warmth.
just after arriving i took a few moments before purchasing my coffee.
but this, apparantly, was too long for the coffee men.
one of them comes up behind me : "va a comprar algo?" (are you going to buy something?)
"como"? (what?) why is he asking me this? don't i always buy something? don't i come in here EVERY day of the week to buy a coffee? don't i contribute quite graciously to your paycheck mister spanish barista man?
i did not ask "what" because i did not understand him, but rather because i could not believe his audacity at pressuring me to purchase something or leave.
& i understand they don't want me using the internet w/o purchasing something, vale.
but really. he could've been a little less of a nazi about it all. & let me point out that they need not worry about business as the shop is FULL of people at the moment.

ANYWAY,
grumpy barista men aside
(don't be bitter cyndi)
i am ready to set off for london in only a mere few hours.
& for this i am more than ecstatic.
my sweet friend Clare has offered me her couch for a week, free lodging! so very kind of her.
she is quite truly the most perfect english beauty that ever existed.

before i go: something to mull over:
i was eating dinner last night while watching tv with my senora, a time i was most thankful for as i usually eat all alone in the big empty dining room.
we were watching a program about how the government is paying for the remains of those anonymously buried after the war to be dug up & identified, so families may have peace.
the majority of these people were murdered for going against Franco.
one of these murdered souls happens to be my senora's grandfather.
she tells me, in new found confidance, that he was assasinated for being a communist.
he was taken from their home in the middle of the night, a night she'll never forget, & he never came back.
she tells me, over & over again, "just because he was a communist doesn't mean he was a bad person, he wasn't a bad person! he was a very good man! communism reflects nothing of his character."
i cannot tell you how many times she said this to me.

& so i think.
of her grandfather murdered for his political beliefs.
of the hurt she & her family, & countless others, have endured.
& the revolutionary comes out in me.
how do we justify such actions against others simply because we disagree with them?
when did political beliefs become worthy judges of whether to keep a human life or destroy it?
i think of this as my meg travles to rwanda.
i think of this as i observe the presidential race under spanish skies.

"& how did the world become,to have such an absent love?"

"father of love & mercy
because of your goodness towards us
we want to cry out with joy & praise
through the prayer of your servant,
be with all those who lead us in praising you
in choirs & as musicians
may the praise on our lips
find it's true expression in deeds full of love
we ask this through Jesus Christ Our Lord
Amen"
- St. Denis Sebuggwawo

i'll be singing you songs of love from london,
love ethereal,
cyn