Coffee in Hand

I have only three types of companions when writing: music, cats and coffee. . . A lot of coffee. I do not like it black and I use soy milk for creamer. The Cats? Not much of a choice there. They don't like coffee, especially when they "accidentally" knock mine over and it gets all over them. The faces they make while licking their fur are a bundle of laughs, their vocal protests jarring with the Steve Roach music in the background.

Seriously. . . I think most artists have an addiction or two, and one of those addictions happens to be of coffee. So what is it about coffee that makes the creative world go round? Is it the actual taste? But coffee, I hear, is an acquired taste. And there are many different blends, beans and roasts to choose from. I personally like the so-called French Roast. Sumatra is good too, especially on rainy days.

But honestly, I think it's the idea of coffee. The warm, rich and mild or bold taste only enhances the coffee experience when coupled with the artistic moment. It's the idea of something just outside the accepted realm of general society, eccentric, classic, artsy. . .and my personal favourite, sophisticated. Or rather, it used to be slightly outside the norm. . .

An instructer from long ago had opened up a coffee shop called Brew HaHa. I remember how proud she was of having this tiny cafe in the middle of downtown Spokane because there were, at the time, so few of such places. I also remember how she had become a bit cocky with the notion and often likened the cafe-owning experience to something foriegn to this country. I think she actually tried to Frenchify it, thus revealing she had been in love with the idea rather than the actuality. (She too was an artist.)

But it is the idea fitting so well with the artistic circumstance that makes it so very intriguing, almost other-worldly, perhaps even magical.

Until you find a few cat hairs in a full cup. . .