Anyone who knows me knows I’m in love with coffee. If police officers ever came to my house, they’d book me on paraphernalia charges as my coffee brewing utensils resemble the tools you’d find in a meth lab. At least from what I’ve seen on Breaking Bad.
Coffee gets me going in the morning. It gives me the kick I need in the afternoon and it provides the energy I’ve got to have as a nearly 40 year old man to play with a 10 year old and a three year old upon arrival from home.
Novelist Honore De Balzac also loved him some coffee.
The French novelist and playwright recommended a “brutal” method for consuming coffee only “to men of excessive vigor” that involves drinking extremely strong coffee on an empty stomach.
The result? Ideas quick-march into motion like battalions of a grand army to its legendary fighting ground, and the battle rages. Memories charge in, bright flags on high; the cavalry of metaphor deploys with a magnificent gallop; the artillery of logic rushes up with clattering wagons and cartridges; on imagination’s orders, sharpshooters sight and fire; forms and shapes and characters rear up; the paper is spread with ink – for the nightly labor begins and ends with torrents of this black water, as a battle opens and concludes with black powder.
Some historians say that Balzac drank 50 cups of coffee a day to get creative. My heart would blow up, but I’d get a lot done before that happened, I’m sure.