Diary Entry of Rudolf Hargrove (5-15-1937)

This hickory-laden coffee house emits the stench of sweat and roasted coffee beans. I smear the sap from its opened pores and waft it closer, only to be surprised by the scent of adhesive and chemical. I'm empty stomached and it's well past afternoon now. My nerves suspend beneath my skin frayed and disrupted, mangled from the coffee and cigarettes. Last night's dark bitter chocolates and dry scotch doesn't feel like such a great idea now, especially mixed with the rattled nerves and nicotine glow. My eyes dart across the smoky coffee house now. Panicked and back and forth and back like wild geese. My skin is now crawling across my stained bones and I itch the crust until it pinkens. I'm unnecessarily nervous and ravenously hungry with an upset stomach that now spills on top of itself in disgust. I'm shaking and the pen I write with seems to be posing great difficulty to clasp. It drops from my clutches and my shaky hand goes to retrieve it, much like a man twice my age who has consumed too much barley. I despise how this old wooden chair squeaks with every shift of my weight. The smells of the coffee beans are too much now. I'm still shaking. Vibrating almost like a cog in some industrial factory. Wait, that's not sap. That's simple glue. Glue that has since been stained into a deep and golden brown. Oakey and smoky. This coffee house is poorly lit. Dim and smoky. Ah I can smell those fresh pastries on Hartington Street. Those crescents and tiny danishes stuffed with fresh cherries. The ones with the flaky crusts and the light sweetness. I really should not have had that chocolate last night. It is a great irony that when one gets to a certain point of hunger that certain foods sound displeasing. I suppose a parched man in the desert would not turn down water or much less be disgusted by the thought of it. I wonder if the sap-glue would be edible. If only I could remove it from this hickory wall. Drat. No luck. Perhaps a cigarette will tide me over until supper. Drat. They really meant business when they put that glue on the wall. It must be holding together the whole coffee house.