Saturday, August 25, 2012

EW2: Diary of an Alchemist

EW2: Diary of a Alchemist

If I were a rich man, I would buy stupid things, like a 
Bodum French Press, 12 oz. (Google Affiliate Ad) coffee maker, and a Bodum Bistro Black Burr Grinder (Google Affiliate Ad).  I don’t like the grinders I have had in the past, always trying to grind the coffee too fast.  This generates heat, and burns the grind before it even touches the heat of the water.  Is this too much to ask.  If I were a wealthy man, like a sultan or a king, or better still like a priest, I would make coffee every morning for myself and anyone who stopped by, as long as they brought some sort of treat.

I would buy my coffee in large sacks, 50 lbs at least, a 100 kilo or so most often, and in the green, and roast it myself, in a roasting house.  The smoky flavors would waft upon the wind, calling out to princes and peasants and bakers of all sorts.  I would blend my coffee as I pleased for the moment, although more often than not, it would be a dark rich blend of Columbia born beans.  I would grind my coffee and boil fresh spring water, enough for all the people who would come bearing fruit turnovers, scones, and pastries.

And we would talk of politics of the local lords, and the court of the crimson kings.  I would listen to their woes and wonder how is that they are so certain of their slight.  With my pipe slowly smoldering and my coffee, I would wait for their tongues to tire before I began to preach.

“My good men, and friends all in attendance, your plights are so raucous and rare as to be one in the same.  Your sight is short, your lives are of misery and pains, and you woe the nature of your lives in vain.  How is this when abundance surrounds you, on side to side, all these measure of friends and neighbors, who come to this coffee house, to partake in my generosity, and that of yourselves.  Everyone ask for that which the other has, and each has what is desired, so what is it that you would want more of, if you already have an abundance of that which is most prized already.”  I would say, which would spark another good bit of debate, lasting long into the mid morning, when obligations elsewhere would break the crowd, and they would disperse, mostly for their own directions.


This would leave me with my own, and none too soon, as the sun would be high upon the horizon and I would be in need of shelter from its burning heat.  No better repast from the will of the sun than to stroll through the wooded paths seeking horticulturals and talking with youthful agents, who still had light left in their eyes and ears that worked.

Smoke tendrils would swirl about my head in the lazy manner of a low lying cloud, giving me the air of a giant I suppose to these youthful attenders.  They would follow in my wake, hanging on the statements I made of cultivars and botanicals, and tinctures and infusions, and the converting of metals.  As the afternoon would lengthen they would have been charged with various task, from collecting plant materials, to cleaning stables, or milking cattle, until all that was needed doing was done, and it was time to learn of edibles.

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