Java Junkie

      I love coffee, I love tea,        I love the Java Jive and it loves me        Coffee and tea and the java and me,        A cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup!        — Ben Oakland and Milton Drake, Java Jive Hi I’m Karl Elvis, […]

      I love coffee, I love tea, 
      I love the Java Jive and it loves me 
      Coffee and tea and the java and me, 
      A cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup! 

      — Ben Oakland and Milton Drake, Java Jive

Hi I’m Karl Elvis, and I’m a Java Junkie.

It’s true.

I love coffee. The smell. The taste. That buzz from the first sip of the morning. It’ll never feel that good again the rest of the day.

I wake up craving it. The thought makes me salivate.

I’m talking coffee; black and hot, with sugar and no other flavor. No nuts no vanilla. No milk. No syrups, no cinnamon, no chocolate. Just coffee. Strong and black, black black.

I make espresso. I make french press so heavy it’s hard to lift. My friend Amie Sue describes it as chewy.

I don’t fuck around with coffee. If it’s not strong, if it doesn’t roar coffee at you, I don’t want it.

When I go to a coffee bar, I usually drink espresso if they’re really good at it, or a multi-shot short (or tall at that place but we’ll make that a tirade for later). No lattes, no fuss. Once in a while a macchiato if they do it right, espresso with a little dab of foam.

The modern trend of kiddee-coffee that tastes like soda pop disgusts me.

But I am a junkie.

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