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Teaism, the art of being

I am reading The Book of Tea, which I found by chance on Gutenberg, and it is about much more than tea. It is leading me to think on the things that make me uncomfortable with regard to possession, aesthetics and self-awareness and the realization that even if I do not live according to Asian philosophies, perhaps I could. I seem to have an abundance of one necessary quality: self-discipline, and through this all other modes of living are possible.

I am trying to remember what happened this morning. Someone called for Nathan Monteleone. I thought she was a telemarketer. She gave me little trouble when I said he was not home. Then she said something very peculiar. She wanted me to give a message to Jessica Henderson in apt. 534. She gave me her name and extension and asked me to convey it. I said whatever I could to end the conversation as quickly as possible and go back to sleep, including a believable pause in which I retrieved writing implements. Still I wonder what that was all about. It was very weird.

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