Dearest Reader,
It’s taken me weeks, months, who knows how long to
understand this. It has taken me one night and another morning just to write
this letter. I figured I had better not delay anymore, for I don’t want to lead
you on any longer.
I’ve been lying to you. It has taken me a long time to gain
the courage to say this, but I feel I must:
I don’t drink lattes.
I hate them, actually.
I’ve tried many times to see the lovely steamed milk for
what it is: an intriguing addition to an already perfect drink. The milky
liquid goes down quick, but the beauty is in the struggle. We all struggle at
first with the bitterness and intensity of an unbound and uninhibited cup of joseph.
That is a normal feeling.
I’ve fallen in love with black coffee, and I must admit, I’ve
fallen quite far indeed. The other day, someone told me that you cannot will
power yourself into doing something for an extended period of time. I guess I
just cannot will myself into drink lattes. I cannot understand why you would
ever water (milk) down the core, the heart, the pure essence of happiness.
Black coffee is my lifeblood, and there’s no denying it.
Imagine you go to a church every Sunday. Imagine that the
choir is Jack White and Mississippi John Hurt. Imagine the preacher Chris Rock.
Totally rad, right? Sounds like a pretty amazing church. Now imagine that one
day, you come to church expecting another legendary Sunday, and instead Dick
Clark is delivering the sermon backed by Avril Lavigne. There’s a fog machine
in the corner, and all the cookies are stale at the coffee hour afterwards. It’s
still cool, and kind of funny, but church just isn’t as fulfilling. Black coffee is my Chris Rock. Dick
Clark is fun to watch once a year, but not every single morning.
Please don’t condemn me for my surface-level judgments of
lattes, but the creamy, light, and freeing complexion of the latte will never
match the color of my chocolate brown suit or my chocolate-brown-tom-waits-city-slicker
personality and lifestyle. I want the inevitable coffee stains on the pants of
my suit to be just as invisible as the sleep in my eyes after my first cup. I
want to be covered up, buried, and drowned in the muddy waters.
Please forgive me. I am sorry for lying.
Riley.
Wow, that was delightfully eloquent. It was almost as lovely to look at as a perfect semblance of a leaf, poured into the steamy surface of a not-quite-boilingly hot latte.
ReplyDeleteI will admit, leaves are pretty.
DeleteRiley, I read this post before I saw/read Chocolate Brown post. While reading this one, all I could think of was my favorite Tom Waits song = "Eggs and Sausage" from Nighthawks at the Diner album.
ReplyDelete"There's a rendezvous of strangers
Around the coffee urn tonight" ...
"Eggs and sausage and a side of toast
Coffee and a roll, ..."
Something about that song, in my opinion, is brilliant. Then, I scroll down and see your Waits reference and his photo.
BRILLIANT! I'm enjoying the blog - thank you both for my daily shot of caffeine!
in closing another fav quote from Waits intro:
"My veal cutlet come down, tried to beat the shit out of my cup of coffee. Coffee just wasn't strong enough to defend itself."
you know what I'm talking about. Cheers, rp
I do indeed know what your talking about. That man is a lyrical genius. Thanks for reading!
Delete