nearing the bottom of a cup of yogi licorice tea, reading the final pages of a long overdue classic cyberpunk book i am loving, i watch the overhead light pour down between my fingers and the back of the cover to rest in the palm of my hand. like i am holding a dime of illumination beneath the novel. and i will not read the yogi tea fortune until the story is over. it is how we crazy people extract logic from patterns in reality. although yogi tea wisdom is inconsistent at best, my desire for hidden truth overrides rational behavior. as my eyes track over the very last line of a journey i have just completed, i can not help but feel the keanu sentiments, "i know kung fu." the back cover closes and i ingest the upload. for me, these feelings are relatively new as i regretfully confess-- i have a hard time paying attention which has resulted in a lifetime of too little reading.

and the yogi tea wisdom? no, no-- some truths you must come to on your own. the book? that i will tell you. snow crash.

< yeah >