On Coffee, and other addictions

Often, I have reflected on the nature of addictions, especially those to myriad substances and activities which are apparently devoid of inherent addictivity. Television, internet, sugar, bad 80s music. Chocolate might fit on this list, but for its loose (real or imagined) association with a certain, incriminating white powder. We all know the truth about cacao-milk (choco + lait = chocolate). But we also know the DEA would sooner ban tobacco or risk another alcohol prohibition than face the approximate wrath of cacao-addicted women everywhere. ('Approximate,' of course, because it would be subtle and almost undetectable, and because the men responsible would have few allies indeed who might venture the risk of recording the brutality to history.) It would simply never happen -- even if it did.

And coffee? What of the strange tea we brew from the tarry remains of this roasted tropical bean? It doesn't seem to have quite the same inescapable (let us say) 'attraction' as chocolate or Blondie songs. (Perhaps 'gravity' would be the better word, thereby emphasizing that you can't get bad 80s music out of your head any more than you can jump away from Earth's pull, despite the lack of strength of either.) Neither does it yield the same hours of fruitless distraction as TV or the internet. Like most narcotics, though, coffee can be found in almost any part of the world, and with striking consistency. As such, coffee fiends can transplant to almost any continent and still find the means to legally subject themselves to shaking limbs, disfocused sight, decreased perception of time, increased heart-rates, scalded throats, unbridlable trains of thought, and a general up-beat good time.

We admirably pitiable coffee drunks, we all start out the same. We ponder the scent while walking down grocery aisle 13 with mom, or as we pass the forbidden teacher's lounge in third grade. The sweet scent deceives us into dreaming of an innocuous drink that is inexplicably off-limits, thanks to the contorted, authoritarian rules of our parents. Those of us who know the taste today usually owe that first sip to a period of rebellion -- a variable span of time often also responsible for increased social aptitude and decreased lung-capacity. (It is worth noting that many people, not only coffee drinkers, will never leave this persistent 'period.') Due to the general poor quality of barristas and bean roasters worldwide, that first sip of drip or espresso is usually as bitter as a laid-off postal worker. Perhaps more so. However, the foul taste is often overlooked in favor of the tingling burst of energy that ensues. It is often because of the memory of these first few sips that most of us seem to continue the habit, as that burst of energy becomes almost extinct with regular consumption, replaced instead by a sort of partial-shivering and erratic imagination.

After the initial breaking-in period, coffee drinking habits become quite varied from person to person. Some people merely dabble, while others dive head-first into the deep end of their oversized, bottomless coffee mugs. I try to maintain anti-addiction patterns in my intake by drinking my coffee in small, controlled bursts: five or six cups in a single evening, and then nothing for a week or more. Actually, I just don't have very good access to coffee in my town, so I generally only drink coffee when I travel to larger cities. I'm far too lazy/distractable to make my own coffee, at home.

For those of you who are considering starting a coffee habit (a nice word for addiction), keep in mind that too much coffee can lead to death, as caffeine has a short-term hardening affect of artery walls. If your intake levels are approaching 80 to 100 cups of drip in a single sitting, you may be at risk for extreme overdose. ^{[Read more here]}