Coffee

// Strawberry Milk Instead

By Tristan Smith .
11.22.09 // Coffee

I think the most (French) pressing (sorry) question concerning coffee is neither our responsibility to Ivory Coast farmers nor the corporate creep that hopes to make every Main Street the same.  Rather, it is the dilemma of when children should be allowed to partake in what is essentially a drug that’s acceptable to consume in public.  And while I’m not a good father or even a good philanderer, I think I have the answer, as I am much closer to being a child than those with children (I hope).

The answer is: when they get a job.

Before then, there’s no reason to urge your intellect to action.  It is better to laze away the days, strumming a guitar.  Sleeping in class.  Sleeping all you can.

Adulthood is a constant battle against time, trying to retain as much of it as possible while a considerable portion of our lives are traded for food, shelter, etc.  Thus,  at 330 PM when our bodies tell us to go home, lie down, hang out, we drink a cup.  Kids don’t need that until they’ve joined the workforce.

We need drugs to make toil less terrible.

Childhood should be unadulterated.

View Comments / Nov 22.09 / Coffee / by Tristan Smith

// Our dependence on foreign substance

By Jordan Childs .
11.22.09 // Coffee

View Comments / Nov 22.09 / Coffee / by Jordan Childs

// Coffee is King

By Elektrovideo .
11.20.09 // Coffee

The King Be Witnessed from elektrovideo on Vimeo.

View Comments / Nov 20.09 / Coffee / by Elektrovideo

// Coffee: a visual interpretation of my innards

By Charles Hodges .
11.20.09 // Coffee

View Comments / Nov 20.09 / Coffee / by Charles Hodges

// Brooklyn To Manhattan… Before Your Coffee

By Joey Camire .
11.19.09 // Coffee

This is a video collage made of the 5 mile walk from My apt in Bed Stuy, to my office in Mid-town/chelsea.

Song: LCD Soundsytem – “Someone Great”

Brookly To Manhattan… Before Your Coffee from Blommit on Vimeo.

View Comments / Nov 19.09 / Coffee / by Joey Camire

// You Arrogant Sonsabitches

By Alex Aloise .
11.18.09 // Coffee

For years I was told that when I got older the best part of waking up would be Folgers in my cup.  I’m afraid I’ll have to call bullshit on that one.  Those Folgers folks have some serious gall to make such a strong claim.  Who are they to assume that the average consumer has an existence so miserable that their only morning solace can come in a steaming cup of their powdered swill?  To top it off, their coffee isn’t any good. I’ll take McCafe over Folgers any day of the week. And I don’t even like clowns.

But back to my original point, there are countless other precious gems in life, in the mornings specifically, than Folgers coffee.  I doubt the company even took any of these variables into consideration when coming up with their tagline.  What if the person in question is happily married?  Wouldn’t the best part of waking up for them be that first glimpse of their still-sleeping spouse?  (Of course, to give Folgers the benefit of the doubt, if they’re talking primarily to singles who go out, get blitzed, then wake up next to a he/she beast who appears to be wearing some sort of Edgar suit then perhaps their coffee would be the best part of that morning, though I suspect Vodka and an 8ball would do the trick a bit better).

What if the unfortunate Folgers drinker has kids? Surely the best part of waking up for those folks would be the dream-rattling jump on the bed from little Petey and/or Patty.  Same thing goes for pets.  Except cats.  No amount of coffee poured from the teet of the Virgin Mary herself could make those damned things worth getting up for.

You’ve also got to think about location. I just got back from my honeymoon. Know what the best part of my mornings were?  The gorgeous GD European sunrises!  It sure as hell wasn’t that black tar Folgers confuses for coffee.  I had coffee over there, my friends.  It’s short, dark, and stronger than a Burmese man with Penis weights.  And it’s definitely not Folgers.

Here’s something else that’s probably a better part of waking up than Folgers – WAKING UP! Just be happy you didn’t kick the bucket while you were asleep.  With all of the different Flus, Cancers and Heps in the world these days, the last thing I think about when I wake up is that canned ash they call coffee.  I’m usually too concerned trying to decide what and who I’m not going to touch that day.

So in closing, I issue Folgers a challenge: Stop being such pompous douchebags and change your tagline to something a little more accurate.  May I suggest, “The best part of waking up is everything that actually makes your life worth living, and if you can stomach a cup of Folgers while you’re awake then hey high 5!”

View Comments / Nov 18.09 / Coffee / by Alex Aloise

// After Speed

By Jake Dubs .
11.17.09 // Coffee

OPEN on Jack and Annie in the out-of-control subway as it speeds down the tracks. Jack looks up from the busted control panel and stares at Annie.

JACK:                   Annie, you won’t believe this.

ANNIE:                 What?

JACK:                   We have to jump.

ANNIE:                 You can’t stop it? Well, um, OK, undo me, and I’d love to go with you. Come on.

JACK:                   I don’t have a key.

ANNIE:                 What?

JACK:                   I don’t have the key. Shit.

ANNIE:                 You’ve got to get off this train. This is crazy.

JACK:                   There’s a curve ahead. I’m gonna speed it up……..make it jump the track.

ANNIE:                 This is really stupid, Jack. Jack, please. You can still jump. Jack, please. Please…..Jack? OK……we have to start here.

He cranks it up to full speed. The train barrels through the underbelly of Los Angeles, jumps the track, and blasts through a wall at the end of the line, sliding out onto the middle of the street before coming to a halt. Jack has his arms around a handcuffed Annie, trying to comfort her. She whimpers. Outside, tourists take pictures.

JACK:                   Come on. It’s all right.

ANNIE:                 You didn’t leave me. I can’t believe it. You didn’t leave me.

JACK:                   Didn’t have anywhere to be just then. Check it out. I have to warn you. I’ve heard relationships…..based on intense experiences never work.

ANNIE:                 OK…..we’ll have to base it on sex, then.

JACK:                   Whatever you say, ma’am.

They embrace each other and kiss. The credits begin to roll. Jack loosens his grip on Annie and they sit there, waiting for the LAPD to come and uncuff her.

JACK:                         So…..Uh, where do you live?

ANNIE:                      Santa Monica. You?

JACK:                         Marina Del Rey. Well, I used to live there. Now I’m renting in Playa Del Rey. Rent’s a little cheaper.

ANNIE:                      Hmm, yea I heard the rent went up around the Marina.

JACK:                         Yeah.

Neither says anything for a full minute. Jack tries to lighten the mood.

JACK:                         Well, this is sort of awkward.

Annie laughs good-naturedly. Another minute passes.

JACK:                         Is it cool if I go wait outside?

ANNIE:                      Yeah, I mean, if you want to.

JACK:                         OK. But, uh… How does this work? Should I get your number?

ANNIE:                      Yeah. That works. You have a pen?

JACK:                         Well, no, not on me. Musta lost it when I was SAVING YOUR LIFE.

ANNIE:                      Oh… That makes sense.

JACK:                         But I have a really good memory, so why don’t you just tell me it?

ANNIE:                      OK. Well, it’s 310-284-4637. Got that?

JACK:                         I think so. 310… 284… 4…6…73?

ANNIE:                      3-7.

JACK:                         Wait, what?

ANNIE:                      310-284-4637.

JACK:                         K. 310-284-6473.

ANNIE:                      Jesus, are you retarded?

JACK:                         Hey. About 30 seconds ago I almost died on a runaway train. Before that, I killed a man. And before that, I almost got blown up on a bus speeding excessively. Needless to say, it’s been a rough day….. Gimme a break.

ANNIE:                      OK……………… Sorry.

JACK:                        Tell it to me again.

ANNIE:                      310-284-4673.

JACK:                         K.

ANNIE:                      Got it?

JACK:                         310-284-4673. Got it.

ANNIE:                      Good.

JACK:                         Ok, cool. Well… I, uh, I’ll call you sometime.

ANNIE:                      K. Cool.

JACK:                         After I get cleaned up and take a shower, maybe we can get coffee later.

ANNIE:                     That’d be nice.

JACK:                         Yup….. Well, see ya later then.

ANNIE:                      See ya.

JACK:                         Fuck….. Forgot your number. What is it again?

Fin.

View Comments / Nov 17.09 / Coffee / by Jake Dubs

// I’m an addict.

By Ben Cheney .
11.16.09 // Coffee

I tried to kick the habit.  I knew I was growing dependent, and it made me grind my teeth, to boot.  So, I kicked it cold turkey, for one month.  I gave up my coffee maker and threw out my unused coffee grounds.  I was making great strides.

It was easy at first.  I drank a lot of tea to supplement the caffeine and didn’t feel many hankerings or side effects.  But after that first month, it all began to hit me.  It was like someone sneak attacked me and put a plastic bag over my head.  I was constantly tired.  I had lower energy than a bridge player at Shady Acres Retirement Community.  And I was cranky — crankier than normal.

I lived like this for a couple months.  When it got really bad, I would cave and grab a cup of coffee.  But I never consider myself back on the sauce.  Not even when I bought a french press.  I figured it would be a great way to have the occasional cup(s) without investing in a fancy coffee maker.  I imagined myself wearing a cable knit snowflake sweater in a cabin in the middle of Hoboken while drinking a cup of coffee on the weekends.  It would be a small treat.  Something to reward myself for a week’s worth of hard work.

But that never happened.  It started as an everyday treat, and quickly progressed to not being a treat at all.  It became a habit once again.  I am back to where I began, grinding the beans as soon as I roll out of bed, eagerly anticipating the sweet aroma and bitter-made-sweet taste of the magic black juice.

View Comments / Nov 16.09 / Coffee / by Ben Cheney

// First Class

By Tom Pappalardo .
11.16.09 // Coffee

View Comments / Nov 16.09 / Coffee / by Tom Pappalardo