As an ignorant kid, yet unwise to the evils of this world and my part in fighting them, I had a magical source from which to procure endless jolt cola. All it required was a little nocturnal recon work involving dark clothing, slithering prone, and timing. And of course, a momentary suspension of morality, a concept I hadn't yet figured out wasn't just adult propaganda.
And holy fukuda, those things changed me. I'd sometimes drink one right before boarding the school bus, and what havoc I hadn't wreaked during the journey, was thoroughly unleashed at school. Until the effects wore off, by which time some iteration of a suspension or prelude to one was often in the works. Grade A canned trouble. And the only substance I can remember that ever made me actually kind of want to go to school.
The only truly excellent coffee I've ever had was an African pea berry, as good as fine tea, in a way that discouraged adulteration with any form of sweetener or cream. It was vaguely floral and silken, and reminded me of indigo and velvet. Every coffee since has been a neutral or unpleasant means of banishing weariness, or barter for inspiration.
And holy fukuda, those things changed me. I'd sometimes drink one right before boarding the school bus, and what havoc I hadn't wreaked during the journey, was thoroughly unleashed at school. Until the effects wore off, by which time some iteration of a suspension or prelude to one was often in the works. Grade A canned trouble. And the only substance I can remember that ever made me actually kind of want to go to school.
The only truly excellent coffee I've ever had was an African pea berry, as good as fine tea, in a way that discouraged adulteration with any form of sweetener or cream. It was vaguely floral and silken, and reminded me of indigo and velvet. Every coffee since has been a neutral or unpleasant means of banishing weariness, or barter for inspiration.