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Living in the age of convenience

taiwanese grass jelly herb (3.1/5) (cooling, bitter mint sensation that feels light but has an intense climate. apparently, when steeped with agar agar or gelatin, it can thicken into a jelly. however, i would prefer to drink the herb as is.) "And surely you have seen, in the darkness of the most innermost rooms of these huge buildings, to which sunlight never penetrates, how the gold lead of a sliding door or screen will pick up a distant glimmer from the garden, then suddenly send forth an ethereal glow, a faint golden light cast into the enveloping darkness. How in such a dark place, gold draws so much light to itself is a mystery to me. Modern man, in his well-lit house, knows nothing of the beauty of gold, but those who lived in the dark houses of the past were not merely captivated by its beauty, they also knew its practical value, for gold in these dim rooms, must have served the function of a reflector. Were it not for shadows, there would be no beauty." Tanizaki'...
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Korean Blue People


The 45-year-old Chinese man who worked at Vital Tea Shop in Chinatown told me that I knew nothing about tea after I sipped his sample of a Chinese alternative to 보리차. I burned with shame when I handed him my credit card to buy thirteen ounces of oolong tea called "Korean Blue People"-- a tea I foolishly only chose for the ethnic familiarity its name held. It was quite shameful, especially since I own a blog domain called "MAY I POUR YOU A CUP OF TEA", but ultimately, he was right. I know nothing about tea and it only makes me want to learn more. This oolong strain's infused licorice gives it a sweeter edge that eases the stain of bitterness that over-steeped white tea can bring. It leaves a complex, honey-coated aroma in your mouth that tastes like a light layer of candle wax. It has become my designated mid-noon caffeine brew. 

rating: 4.8/5

________________

Winter is half over and I am awake alone

to wait for the lesson my mother taught me:

pain inflicted upon this body must be earned.


When the thrill of rain agitates

I wait and wait to remember

the bourgeois fiction of intimacy

by sewing her into loose buttons,

sliding her into empty infinite space,

tucking her behind an envelope clutch. 


Time is so transient, it shakes in all its passing

tonight I shall wait for the fig tree

that bears my fluency in apologies






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