I watch the smoke dance as it rises above the glass. I watch the water swirling – dancing, twirling. My fingers drum the side of the mug, dancing.
Everything’s dancing. All the fucking time. It doesn’t stop dancing. I keep watching it. I lift the teabag. Some tea – is it tea now? When does water turn into tea? Is there a set percentage? Is it the look? The instant it touches the tea bag/tea leaves?
I don’t care anymore. The teabag dances. My heartbeat dances. I lift the mug up. My lips dance against the mug. The tea dances down my throat, and I close my eyes. My eyes dance in their sockets, allowing my sense of smell and taste to take over. My olfactory senses dance. I gulp down the tea. I take a whiff. In this moment, I am dancing. My whole body is fucking dancing.
Gosh, what a weird term. I suppose it’s just like that thing when you say a word too many times. Ah. “Semantic Satiation.” Semantic satiation semantic satiation semantic satiation semantic satiation… It gets weird when you Ctrl-v too many times. You start to form a habit. A very brief one, but a habit nonetheless. I use my pinkie finger and my index. That’s the standard, right? Should be. Easiest way to do it.
Anyways, seems like it’s the same when you go off on tangents. “But I digress.”
But I digress.
Tea is really enjoyable. Makes you feel powerful. Like you’re in control. For the few precious minutes that you’re still clutching the tea, it feels like all your troubles disappear under the heat enveloping you. All you have to do is sip, and you’ve got it. Your heart soars, your stomach stills, and you feel like you’re free to dance down the street.
May as well give in.
Your soul bounces, and every movement that you make is supported by magic – a sensation that makes your cheeks a little looser.
Can you hear it? The sounds that appear when you drink tea. Japanese indie music. Man, you have to try it sometime. It’s like – it’s like –
It’s like you go off on a tangent, and you never fucking come back to the main point. you’re just stuck in that song, and your heart gets trapped in those 5 minutes, held gently, rocked softly, and caressed lovingly by some Japanese girl’s hands.
Hey, it’s not yellow fever. A lot of the singers are girls.
The point is, tea is pretty good. Japanese indie songs are also pretty good. I wonder if I’m using all the right words for this. The best words? The correct words. It doesn’t really matter. I keep dancing on top of all these words, and I keep trying to daisy-chain them together. They’re all related in some way, right?
That’s how I get to tangents in the first place – mildly related, another point to talk about. It’s nice to exercise this function, I feel. It’s like I’m jogging to different places – different ideas, different words. In a way, I’m training my cardiovascular endurance.
Running a little won’t kill your gains.