Coffee is a social crux
Yes, I’m on cpffeeee writing this. There’s an energetic clip to my intent,
When I say coffee is a social crux, I mean it in the way hands hold cigarettes, or cellphones. Always just there, because, something is better than nothing. No thing. No one.
Rituals are important. Wake up, brew, sip, rinse. That’s nice. Okay. This social crux isn’t all bad. But it’s the cup, the thing in the hand itself, that is more a thing than the liquid itself. This throw away thing. This one time thing. This empty thing. This wasteful, single use, container thing.
One side of the brain preaches green peace! End of the world! But conscious consumption seems to stop with the coffee cup. As if it were the single exemption to the rule. As if it were pardoned because the drug inside, the liquid it contains is in fact the fuel that keeps us going, keeps us preaching, keeps us mighty. Keeps us certainly, most righteously conscious!
!!
My takeaway cup is like a little dose of feel good. Like a little pill capsule. But this one is bigger and prettier than other drugs with its space rockets and bald eagles. The first an icon of our dreams, the second an icon of home. Art on my social crux always makes it feel better. Makes me feel better. More purposeful. Until, done, discarded, the art goes back to waste. That didn’t really feel like home. Or dreams. Or really that important any way. It was just a fleeting connection. A passing thought…
What was i saying?
Something about this coffeeeer high. This social crux. This drugged disconnection.
— S
