Bishop Berkeley gave up philosophy to lecture on the healing properties of tar water, W. says. He gave it all up – he'd written his masterpieces by the age of 23, but he still had a long life to live, which he then spent advocating, in lectures and pamphlets, the entirely false thesis that tar water was the cure for all ills.
For a time, he listened to my caffeine theories, W. says. He took them seriously. Caffeine is the drug of capitalism, I'd said, and he avoided espressos. Caffeine is an iron collar, I'd said, and he gave up tea. But he likes coffee!, W. says. And he likes tea! And they have no adverse effect upon him whatsoever!
What I refuse to understand are the ceremonies of tea making and coffee making, W. says. Of the ritual of the cup of tea in the morning that follows his hours of solitary study. Doesn't he bring a cup of tea to my room every time I stay? Doesn't he bring it up both flights of stairs, knocking on the door of his study which I defile by sleeping there? And doesn't he make us both an espresso to have with the breakfast he so carefully prepares for me?
Of course, all that caffeine only makes me talk more excitedly of our need to give up caffeine, of caffeine as the drug and iron collar of capitalism. How many times has he heard me, over coffee, arguing that coffee must be banned immediately?
Lars Iyer's Blog 