I thought long and hard, but unproductively, about the limited usefulness of introspection. In my tidy little room, my calm and soothing environment, cerebrations are nevertheless murky. Even thought it's a small room I have three sitting options, not including the floor because my lower extremities go numb in two minutes flat. I have a rocking chair, what of it? I can assume various postures of reflection. A Time For Reflection, I once decided, would be the perfect name for the mirror boutique I would someday open down in the mirror district, in the world of Julius Knipl which does not actually exist except insofar as etc etc. Right between The Mirror Stage and The Likeness Reversed. I only drink tea when it's time to have a good think. Not only is tea the preferred beverage of thoughtful people, people who think but never act, but I am so indifferent to tea's supposed pleasures that no moments of simple happiness ever distract me from my serious thinking, which, as I mentioned, is usually unproductive. The hard work of thinking wrongly. I don't hate tea but I dislike it. Maybe I hate it, I don't know, and thinking it over doesn't get me any closer to deciding. I don't like the way an ostentatiously gentle person holds tea in both hands and really savors it, the warmth, the aroma, their fucking tea beatitude so annoyingly on display, it gives me the creeps. I must fight the urge to wrench the mug from their hands and splash it on their peaceful face with a cruel flick of the wrist, causing severe burns. If there's one thing I can't stand it's people who are calm and centered, without sickening and murderous thoughts, drinking tea like it's a goddamn cosmic gift to their chilly little paws of bliss, their placid minds unplagued by murky cerebrations and the most terrible repetitions of awful things.

I have insights but they're the wrong insights. The things I think about myself are wrong, but sometimes flattering. Often flattering. I am misunderstood, terribly. If only. I feel regrets creeping in and resist them. More tea, more aggressive rocking or furious repose. Things I mightn't've done, if not for, things I shouldn't've done, but alas. Well, I conclude, can't say as how I blame me.