More Tea

Someone once asked me what is the difference between white tea, green tea, and black tea. Aren't they all just leaves? You soak them in hot water and the colour of the earth starts to break, dying a second time, the tea leaves.

White tea is not only sensitive, but also too pricey to comprehend. Drinking tea at a tea lounge is a ridiculously bourgeois activity that triumphs over the act of drinking a RM12 cup of coffee at a hipster café. Mainly because making a cup of coffee requires, to a certain degree, essential skills so that it doesn't taste like a smoker's spit mixed with yesterday's hot water re-boiled. Meanwhile a pot of tea is leaves thrown together and soaked in hot water, which the drinker then removes according to the drinker's own preference. There isn't a waiter in a suit waiting by the the table with his silver pocket watch either. I suppose they understand better than anybody that people who drink tea at specialised tea outlets are the embittered petty of society.

My dinner cost less than my pot of tea here. I had at Sushi Zanmai a bowl of curry ramen and 2 plates of sushi from the conveyor belt. Imagine that~ the senseless act of drinking Mother Nature's piss at a high price.

Indulging unnecessarily in the material world due to woe internal and the need to remind myself that there exists a reality outside of myself is truly consuming, in all sense of the word. Behind me is an emptiness that feeds on itself with no connections to latch onto, like a spider's web that is only dust, I am given my place by alienation.

As the days pass by, the body of this river appears increasingly shallow. Even if I want to drown myself and float in the stream of an endless memory, there is barely enough to sink the tip of my nose in. For fear of the water evaporating completely, this fool kneels by the bank and weep tears of a thousand nights in one. The salty tears of course, do not make a river whole. 

Pour cup after cup after cup of tea in the river? I suppose that'll do.