bodypolitics andrea Dillon
First I will wallow in my addiction. Later I will discuss cunts and enlightenment. I am addicted to caffeine. I once tried to shake my addiction but quickly gave up caring. I came into an espresso machine that a rich man left in the office. He left it in the office not because he forgot it or was displeased by it, but because he is rich. I took it from the office. This is because I am not rich. I am upper-middle class, the lower end. Do you understand? The machine takes single-use pods that rich people
mail order from storage units in Europe. The pods come in black, brown, gold, silver, green, and purple. I bought espresso grounds from the café down the street. “Do you have a tamper?” asks the barista. “No,” I say. “You should get a tamper,” she says, and wishes me luck. I tamp with a plastic spoon and shove the grounds as far as I can into the sinuses of the machine. Water ceases to flow into my cup.
Clerestory Journal of the Arts