A Beautiful, Coffee-Soaked Mind

I’m home sick today. It was a scheduled day off for me, but in his infinite wonder, mysteriousness, and apparent deference to capitalism by maximizing the productivity of our fleshy corporation-slaving forms while in the office, Ba’al has chosen to bless me with a cold today.

I rolled out of bed around 8 am (as in physically rolled, and possibly dislocated my shoulder in failing to stick the landing), slowly ambled down the stairs, and greeted my dad, himself holding back a sneeze with a scrunched-up face. I moseyed on over to the kitchen, because moseying is the most swagged out mode of transportation not involving a Segway, and discovered a completely full pot of coffee. My mom was already at work, and my dad has usually finished with his coffee drinking around 7, so this was fair game.

I drank the whole pot. Here is my story.

CUP 1: I was starting at a baseline of flu-like aches, stuffy-nosed delirium, and unstructured day off hazy bliss. The first cup was warm but not too hot so as to burn my tongue, going down as smoothly as awful bargain-brand straight black coffee could possibly go. Within a few minutes, I reached base-level wokeness, questioning the temperature at which steel beams melted and the curious ubiquity of plane contrails, but nowhere near peak wokeness.

CUP 2: With zero delay, I re-upped. I’m usually a double cup person, sometimes reaching for a tertiary cup around midday if my mana levels are feeling somewhat low. There are days where I have to say “fuck it, I’m on one,” and forgo the second cup, but usually I am at my best with two in the system. This second cup had me to relative normalcy, somewhat blunting the cold symptoms and putting me at the mental acuity level required to drop Fire Tweets.

CUP 3: There was a small gap in the action between Cup 2 and Cup 3, in which I felt bold enough to sequester a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats and watch a few minutes of some movie in which Angelina Jolie accosts the dude from Burn Notice. Sidenote: has anyone ever seen that Burn Notice show? Has anyone who has or has not seen said show been to spy school? Is it still running? Can I write some of the “when you’re a spy…” narrative asides? Here, I’ll try: “When you’re a spy, the first thing you learn is that stress balls are the most powerful tool you will have. Stress balls are great as projectiles, door stops, and stress relief mechanisms. If you don’t actively fight off stress, it will find you, and it will kill you.”

Aaaanyways, Cup 3 hit the gullet and instantly the coffee shakes hit. I’ve always soundtracked that point at which I fear I’ve had a little too much coffee with Juelz Santana’s “Monster Music”, s/o Opera Steve one time.


Thirst, what? Bring in the water man. Cup 3 was my last hold on reality, my last tenuous grasp on sanity.

CUP 4: Wide-eyed wonder is great, when some external awe-inspiring stimulus brings it about. The Grand Canyon, Mt. Yeezus, Xander Bogaerts hitting a home run, a dope tweet — these things can bring wide-eyed wonder. My ugly dog lying on the ground should not bring wide-eyed wonder. I found myself transfixed, too overcome by sensory alertness to actually move, mind racing too fast to overcome bodily inertia. I laid on the floor, stared at my stupid dog’s stupid dumb face, and pondered the universe for a solid 10 minutes before going back for #5.

CUP 5: Halfway through this one, I regained motor function, although in an exaggerated, Bunny Hood From Super Smash Bros. staccato fashion. I paused to unleash the mightiest of coffee poops, a viscous and pungent expulsion of my former lethargic and non-tweaking self. The last sip brought a bit of acidic resistance from my stomach, and equally laborious palpitations from my chest, now heaving almost scarily heavily.

I had the brilliant idea to work out some of the excess energy, and proceeded to my basement where I have some small free weights I never ever use because none of them strengthen my tweeting muscles. I did one single bicep curl, sneezed a whole bunch, then read through my twitter timeline for twenty minutes before declaring my workout a success and returning upstairs for the final cup.

CUP 6: The pot was cold at this point, and I chose to chug this cup cold rather than go through the effort of microwaving and sipping it. This finished the pot (I have a 12 cup pot, but what kind of lame-ass lame actually treats 6 fl oz of coffee as one cup? If you’re not using some type of small porcelain goblet to drink coffee, are you even doing it? I need to invest in a Big Gulp safe for warm liquids). I reclined on my couch, laying down opposite my sick dad visibly disgusted at my consumption, but not well enough to chastise me, and closed my eyes.

Upon opening them again, I saw the Big Bang, stardust and heavy elements whizzing by as they formed small co-accretion discs, then bigger ones, then came together as stars, planets, moons. I saw Earth, volcanic and tempestuous, trillions of objects striking it and eventually filling it in with water, life being born, life dying, life being born again. I saw the first civilizations, the Mesopotamians, the Egyptians. I saw the conquests of Alexander, the splendor of Rome. I saw the Mayans rise and fall, the Aztecs fall victim to the West. I saw America rise up, and smack Billy Howe and Cornwallis around like the lame opps they were. I saw a world at war, a world at war a second time, and a world at war a third time after Kanye and Taylor Swift’s thing in 2009.

I learned the secrets of peace, the follies of man, the reasons for living. I had a million fire tweets brainstormed, a million tumblr thinkpieces in the wings, all lost as soon as they were hatched. I planned an entire trip across Europe, planned the book I was going to write about it, planned the spiraling drug habit and tortured genius sophomore book I was going to drop after the first.

This was around noon. It’s now 3:30ish, and I’m still shaking, mind still darting in random directions, sending two ideas in headlong collisions then shooting off in various directions, no Feynman. My tongue does not feel comfortable anywhere in my mouth, and my eyes refuse to spend any modicum of time not twitching violently. My dumb trash mind decided, in this stupid comedown, that anyone cares about this at all and cranked out a couple hundred words before I could look back and stop myself.

I would not suggest drinking an entire pot of coffee in a morning, it is not tite. Let’s build, fam, mostly so I have someone to prevent me from doing stupid things like this next time.

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