This is Elena’s tattoo:
I have always had an affinity for T.S. Eliot, and “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” is simultaneously poignant and pretentious; what’s not to love? I realized every job I’ve had, from telemarketing for Gevalia, working third shift in a diner, and for the last few years, serving coffee as a barista at Starbucks, has involved coffee. I drink it, I serve it, I live it. I truly have measured out my life with coffee spoons. My name’s Lena, and after a useless English Lit. degree, a graduate degree, I’m still working at Starbucks; but I’m okay with that. Today, feeling slightly Prufrockian, I thought I’d make it a permanent statement.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
- T.S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock“