So much writing is boring now, and juiceless. There used to be a kind of charm to even the worst writing, because it came from someone just as flawed as you. Now, everything is airbrushed and edited so that we no longer see the real face of things. We see a tiny little snippet of humanity drowning in a sea of inescapable averageness.
Contemporary writing often feels stripped of vibrancy.
In a world of more, be less. Then you will have more time for what needs doing.
Too much emphasis on the immediate, too little emphasis on the eventual. You are made for infinities and multitudes, yet you fill yourself up and become singular.
Focus on true understanding, and momentary illusions will disappear.
It is the emptiness within a pot that makes it useful, and it is the emptiness of the mind which makes it a worthwhile vessel.
I would hope that you, my dear reader, have not had the extreme displeasure of flying on a United Airlines flight recently. If you have, perhaps you should turn away now, such that you might avoid triggering any latent traumatic memory material. This story is about a wonderful adventure with the ever-helpful airline, which commenced on Christmas Eve: December 24th, 2023.
Sleepwalking into a horrible fate 4 A.M. rang my alarm.
I often drink matcha. Matcha is a bright green powder ground from green tea leaves. Taking matcha powder and swirling it into water renders a luxuriant smooth tea.
A cup of matcha, as imagined by Midjourney.
This tea is something of substance — a suspension that would not be the same without its constituent components — a solid and a liquid blended into something entirely new.