“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons…”
– T. S. Eliot
It is one of those mornings, when the body moves faster than the mind … and the body is barely moving at all.
The sun breaks through the shades and shines on my weary eyes, like a cop’s flashlight. C’mon. Let’s move along. Okay, okay. It is morning, but my mind thinks it’s still the dead of night. I wash up, I get dressed. But this heavy fog of slumber lies in the valley of my skull. The only cure to lift this darkness: Coffee.
As I fight my way through traffic, heading to a local café, this Gregorian chant echoes inside my head: O Holy Coffee! Relieve me from my sins and guide me to the blessed light!
I make it to the “chapel” – a dark coffee shop on Sunset Boulevard. It is a sanctuary for amateur screenwriters, tapping away on their glowing laptops, working on a no-budget horror flick or some indie-bromance. I am standing in line for hours. The hold-up: This Bluetooth-wearing Hollywood agent, oblivious of his surroundings, struggling through the menu: black coffee, white coffee, Americano, cafe au lait, cafe latte, cafe mocha, cafe breva, cafe macchiato, cappuccino, dry cappuccino, espresso, espresso con panna, espresso macchiato, double shot, triple shot, red eye, black eye, hammerhead, iced coffee, iced mocha, iced latte, lungo, ristretto, flat white …
In my mind: O Holy Coffee! O Holy Coffee!
“Do you have a caramel frappuccino?” asks Bluetooth Man.
“No. This isn’t Starbucks,” replies the barista.
O Holy Coffee! O Holy Coffee!
“Okay. How about a soy latte?”
“Single or double?”
“Double? Is that bigger than a Venti?”
O Hol— Hey, asshole! He said, this isn’t fucking Starbucks!
Finally, I make it to the register. I am prepared. “Small coffee. Black. Thanks.”
I sit down and place the cup in the center of the table. I dive right in. I disappear into the black water. I fill my lungs, my veins, my brain with sweet caffeine. I rise with the steam. Rise up to the heavens. There I kneel down and thank the ghost of St. Juan Valdez. It is accomplished. Now I can go on with my day.
So who else is addicted to coffee?
How to order coffee in Los Angeles:
Coffee as the Universe:
