Literary Nonfiction. Fiction. Memoir. "Some time ago, I decided to drink a hundred cups of coffee and record them, with my thoughts and surroundings. I was waiting for certain things to unfold, or even pass unrecorded. Therefore, this is not a daily diary in the usual sense. Over the course of two years, many things happened. My mother died of dementia, I quit my job, and Donald Trump was elected president. And some things remained constant--my house on Santa Fe's west side with my husband Rich, my daughter Isabel and son-in-law Tim living in the county. Friendships ebbed and flowed as friendships will, weather turned as threat of drought persisted. I did not grow younger. I traveled many places, both near and far. I remembered the dead who were mine. Coffee soothed my worry, and helped me focus. But this record is not about coffee, per se. I drank iced tea and other things in the same spirit. I just wanted something in my mouth, which is also the seat of expression, of words. Full disclosure: I do not really care about coffee. I love the bitterness, and the kick. But I am no maven or aficionado. Essentially, this writing is about the ephemeral, the momentary. It is about states of mind--most notably the state of mind that gives rise to language and writing. It is also about consciousness--that shape-shifting animal that can be tracked but never completely captured. Sometimes I wrote poetry, mostly I wrote prose. Rather without planning to, I also created a paean to my neighborhood, Santa Fe's west side, where a funky vibe mixes with occasional gentrification. No doubt the blocks around my house are the only other thing in life I have ever observed as continually as my own mind. I always say that my obituary will note that I divided my time between two neighborhood cafes--Counter Culture and Tune-Up. This is a record of a woman in her early sixties, in a capital city in the arid west, in the second decade of the twenty-first century. Who is sitting and writing. Now Tune-Up is getting busy with the lunch rush. I'll finish my cafe au lait and walk the four and a half minutes home."--Miriam Anna Sagan