Yesterday, in the spirit of heralding in my new year, I had hoped to receive my very first cup of Black Rifle Coffee via my monthly 3-bag drop. Sadly, however, its deployment must have reached the end of its supply chain as it handed the advance over to Montgomery. OK, so, I don't know enough about modern warfare's use of contractor services, so, I'm not sure what the analog would be for the failure of FedEx, but if I learned anything from ex-Navy SEAL Jocko Willink, Truman's "The Buck Stops Here," or Eisenhower's Overlord backup letter upon defeat, it's about the top taking ownership for failure—or maybe my instance is an outlier. It just miffs me because it's not like the order is coming in from California or Maine—it's in-state! It's right outside of Nashville to West Tennessee. In contrast, when I ordered from Upton Tea in Massachusetts, I received superior service whether I resided in Alaska or Tennessee.

I may move back to tea, my graduate-school-to-Czech-Republic-to-Alaska-back-to-Tennessee panacea, but, I have a long and complicated relationship with coffee that I cannot readily dismiss.

Coffee: the dark elixir drunk with friends who have faded into mists of memory. Coffee was the warm companion in places I'll never see again—at least not how I traveled them....

That's our past, isn't it, spinning wildly within a whirlwind of nouns. And when we look back of those days of old, we wonder why didn't they seem like something more in the context of their creation. We didn't know that a passing bye would be the last goodbye. It is as if we think the present is the immutable forever and that reflection in our coffee cup will never change.

And yet...(worlds are packed in those two words). The future is upon us. Emotionally, we must understand that every move we make gains something new and leaves something behind, both our context and all the opportunity cost thereof.

As for me, I drive deep into the timeless night...