The Tao of BSJ
Today I paint my old red walls white for someone else. Today, I’ve assisted- literarily - but soon that comes to a close. Nearly 200 people have applied for my job; for the practical, hopes & dreams must smell like stasis and cubicles. My nose is fucking stupid, misguided and appled. Today I paint walls and road signs for a dirtroad that winds around orchards that are sometimes sunny, sometimes cold.
I read the Art of Tea for my tutoring gig and wish I could venture to a proper teahouse - one with the gorgeous garden antechamber & the small immaculate tearoom where everything is minimal, crafted, perfect. We would sit around a table silently and find affection in the sight of reddened cheeks over hot tea. I would not spill.
I read Kant and agree that we are often quite familiar with things we will never know
I read the Art of Tea for my tutoring gig and wish I could venture to a proper teahouse - one with the gorgeous garden antechamber & the small immaculate tearoom where everything is minimal, crafted, perfect. We would sit around a table silently and find affection in the sight of reddened cheeks over hot tea. I would not spill.
I read Kant and agree that we are often quite familiar with things we will never know