Here I sit in the coffee shop, another feckless bore, typing on an iPad. That’s right. Ha ha. I’m typing with a keyboard for an iPad instead of touching the screen a bunch of times like most people with iPads do. That’s because I bought a keyboard from Best Buy. They makes those now. I find it easier to write with an iPad for some reason, similar to when I’m texting someone on an iPhone. The words come out more fluidly. I don’t feel the need to censor myself or get uptight about things. It’s just like I’m texting my neighbor. Meet me at the pond by eight. There, that’s it.

I dream big dreams as I’m typing, but I won’t tell anyone what those dreams are. It’s my dirty little secret, you see? If I tell everyone, the dream might not come true. And then what? More medication for me to take? 400 milligrams of Gabapentin, 300 milligrams of Trileptal, 1 milligram of Klonopin, 15 milligrams of Abilify, however many milligrams of Adderall. I may have forgotten some. In a perfect world, I’m taking none of that crap. But I need it to keep me going. I take amino acids to reduce the withdrawal symptoms because I’m getting off one of those drugs. My doctor says she’ll prescribe me something that will lift my interest in activities again. As of now, there aren’t many that bring me joy. I work my dead end job, take a walk, and go to sleep. Those are how my days transpire.

Now and then, I’ll have a day off. Like next week, I’ll see the dentist on Monday. Wednesday is Juneteenth, so my boss told me to go ahead and take Tuesday off as well. There’s no use in working on Tuesday and taking Wednesday off again. So I’ll work only two days—Thursday and Friday. And then I’ll take the whole week off after that.

It’s for my birthday when I’ll turn the ripe old age of forty-seven. I’ll drive to Goleta where my favorite coffee shop is and stay for the night, and then I’ll drive to see my parents in Avila Beach the day after. I’ve been to Avila only once or twice in my life. My parents swear by it because of how gorgeous the weather is. They just want to escape from the triple-digit heat here in the desert. I don’t blame them, but something tells me Avila Beach will be overrated. I’ll stay there for a few nights. The drive there is over four hours. That’s why I’ll stay in Goleta for two nights: on the way there and on the way back. That way, I can break the trip up into an hour-and-a-half drive and a three hour drive.

And then the Fourth of July is the week after. So you can say I have it pretty easy for the next few weeks. But it’s back to a full week on the week afterward. Oh, well. Nothing lasts forever. What else do I have to look forward to? Nothing, really.

I’m sitting in the coffee shop, and nothing interesting is happening. I see the same old men sitting at the long table in the middle: the guy who looks like an Italian hitman, the guy with the tattoos on his neck who rides a wheelchair. Who knows what they talk about? The nice old man in the corner who always smiles at his iPad as if he’s looking at some endearing pictures of his family. The same baristas I see almost every morning, hustling about behind the counter. And me, trying not to be nosy, but I can’t help myself.