Slurpaslurp. I brewed it better this time.
I made it, because I felt like drinking a “bulk” tea, and I had just transferred it to a tin that was appropriately titled “Lapsang Souchong.” Ignoring their tea quality, Peet’s makes pleasing tins – though they are a bit hard to open if you can’t get leverage.
Actually, I really brewed this because I wanted to post about it. I brewed it better this time, but that’s besides the point. I skipped both my classes today, and drank this tea. I’m going to keep going like this until a direction forms…

After I transferred it from the Teavana tin, I noticed there was a good amount of dust left over. I wish I had a bag to brew it in. Oh well. Teavana tins are too tall and thin. My hand barely fit in there. I say this because I had to whip it out – don’t want my next tea smelling like smoked meats.
I felt like writing literature, but I feel uninspired so I’m writing this, instead. I could write a story about this, yes, but my audience isn’t very tea-literate. I could also be doing the essay that was due today. Hah.

I wish we could leave reviews on the companies themselves. I’d have a thing or two to say about Teavana. That’s f’sho. Teavana doesn’t even deserve the proper spelling out of “for sure.”

I want to forget school forever, and drown myself in tea. I think I might try tonight. I need more clean water, though, for my nice teas. That means I have to bike down to 7-eleven. Or up to the supermarket. (When I say up and down, I mean it. This is a city built on slopes.)

The point of all this? I need a woman. I’m sick of school, sick of roommates, sick of looking at pretty, shallow girls scattered across the campus, sick of dealing with one of the few people I care about, who’s 300 miles away, hating me, sick of using tobacco as a substitute muse for lack of lover (I REALLY hate smoking), and sick Southern California in general. I’m also sick of making up for my lack of social life/tolerance of my peers, by writing reviews about tea.

I’m sorry. Really, I am.

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Poet, Prosaist, Teaist, amateur literary critic, uhhh…. Sadomasochist?


Northridge, California; the city of suck



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