A letter of appreciation for coffee

I go out of my way for a good cup of coffee. It’s a commitment that I make without weighing reasonability of price, logic behind route taken to wherever it is I am supposed to be, or daily obligations. Obligations are only visible after coffee removes the haze of slumber. I do it for love; steaming, reflecting the world atop its still glossy black surface. Like an “all-seeing eye” I look into it and see things that are not really there, but over there, and up and across, and me. I see my eyeballs, pupils wide with caffeinated excitement. I see tree branches overhanging the sidewalk. I see people's silhouettes bounced and reflected, having conversations on my circular movie screen sat upon my mirror-like brew. I am no snob when it comes to this stuff. I don’t know it well enough to play that part. All I proclaim is the bean, and the bean roastified. How selfish I’ve been to have lived so many years and drank so many cups without writing my appreciation to this special liquid enlightenment. It faithfully wakes me in the morning, priming me for the helplessly brash sunshine. It throws open pathways to the tired places in my brain. It dusts off the cobwebs in my head and is one of my favorite things to see, smell, and hold once I roll out of bed. It is a socially acceptable drug used and approved by masses of people the world over. I am not better than any of these other addicted fiends. We’re subservient to the cup daily. To the all powerful vasodilator, we raise up our glasses and sip! Many have embraced the freedom to drink these toxic juices, and our bodies have become accustomed to their assault. We take it all in as pleasure, and call our livers liars when they present us with strange pain. We celebrate our addiction, and many travel the world over to find the very best stuff on earth. Some stamp passports, and others collect memories in micro-roaster shops. We make our addictions into art. Let’s sophisticate the stuff, and feel much better about ourselves. I am an advocate of this philosophy. I raise my voice for it, but not until I’ve tasted and seen that the stuff is good.

...ramble on...