Bubble Tea Report # 4 - Alex Eos

Bubble Tea Report # 4

April Bubble Tea Report: Avocado Tea and Other Dangerous Choices

Alex Eos
Apr 30, 2026

April tasted like avocado tea at 30% sugar from Moge Tee, which is to say: unexpectedly correct, slightly unhinged, and strong enough to make me believe in poor judgment as a creative philosophy.

I do not want to hear from anyone who thinks avocado belongs only in savory applications. Some of us are living on the edge. Some of us are making choices. Some of us have looked directly into the creamy green abyss and said, yes, this. This is the beverage that understands me.

That was April.

Not calm. Not balanced. Not especially interested in behaving. Just weirdly good in a way that would sound fake if I explained it badly.

This month I wrote, revised, restructured, muttered at my own sentences, and had at least six private spiritual disputes with paragraphs that refused to end when they should have. A normal person might call this “the writing process.” I call it a hostage situation with better metaphors.

Some scenes came together beautifully, like they had the decency to know their purpose. Others arrived at the page barefoot, covered in emotional damage, and carrying absolutely no identification. Those are always the scenes that demand the most from me. Not just words. Blood. Calcium. A small but meaningful percentage of my remaining youth.

Still, progress was made.

By “progress,” I mean I kept showing up to the page even when the page clearly wanted to square up. I solved a few structural problems. I figured out where certain pieces were sagging in the middle like tired Walmart patio furniture. I also continued my lifelong commitment to changing one sentence fourteen times before realizing the third version was fine and I was the problem.

Creatively, April has been full of that specific energy where everything is almost becoming something at once. Ideas everywhere. Notes everywhere. Drafts breeding in the dark like fruit flies. Half-finished insights written in the margins of other insights. A deeply offensive number of tabs open. At least one thought so brilliant at 2:11 a.m. that I wrote it down with the confidence of a prophet, only to wake up and discover I had apparently received a divine transmission from a raccoon.

That, too, is part of the process.

I have also been thinking a lot about endings lately. Why some endings devastate you in the good way and some make you feel like you sat through the emotional equivalent of a long bus ride just to be dropped off in a parking lot. I am increasingly convinced that a good ending does not need to be kind, but it does need to know what it promised. It cannot spend all story flirting with transcendence and then leave in the middle of the night without paying the check.

So if April had a craft theme, it was probably this: payoff. Emotional payoff. Narrative payoff. The ancient and sacred art of not wasting the reader’s time.

Current drink of the month, and winner by divine right: avocado tea, 30% sugar, from Moge Tee. Thick. Weird. Correct. A beverage that sounds like it should not work and yet somehow has more inner harmony than most people I’ve met. It is, frankly, the only drink chaotic enough to represent the month with dignity.

This months posts (In case you missed them):

Project update

I have been editing and restructuring projects that I shelved. I have been promoting Starforge. You know the kind of chaos that pays the bills.

Tiny victories before the universe changes its mind

That last one is personal growth.

The part I loved writing

From untitled working draft

They gather the way weather gathers.Older women bickering like they never left adolescence, just upgraded the stakes.

I love this line because it turns people entering a space into a collective force that is impossible to ignore. Even out of context, it carries mood, power, and that delicious sense that once these chaotic, messy women arrive, the whole room has no choice but to rearrange itself around them.

The funniest thing I wrote

“There are some things no amount of therapy prepares you for. Elderly women, it turns out, can dance to absolutely anything if given the right level of spite.”

Sometimes, when someone chirps “you can dance if you want to,” the only honest reply is: I would rather be hunted for sport.

Random quote I’m taping to my forehead

“You write until you come to a place where you still have your juice and know what will happen next and you stop and try to live through until the next day when you hit it again.” — Ernest Hemingway

Why it’s sticking: Well damn. I feel seen. I needed to hear this at exactly the moment when editing a work in progress feels like performing emergency surgery on a haunted Victorian child that refuses to tell you where it hurts.

Listening loop (a.k.a. my brain’s soundtrack)

Mood: Righteous violence, ambient grief, and the strange spiritual clarity that comes from realizing the scene is either about to become transcendent or legally actionable. Also, Ice-T’s metal band hits hard when you are auditing medical claims and David Gilmour is on that album. Just saying.

What it does to my writing: It makes everything feel bigger than it was on the outline. Suddenly nobody is just entering a room. They are arriving with history, emotional damage, and the soundtrack of a minor apocalypse behind them.

Next month’s intention

May will, ideally, involve sharper pages, cleaner endings, fewer emotional support placeholders, and at least one week where I do not feel personally hunted by transitional paragraphs. I want momentum. I want clarity. I want my drafts to stop acting like Victorian children with weak constitutions every time I ask them to carry their own narrative weight.

No promises. But the ambition is there.

Final Thoughts:

What was your April in drink form?

Was it a sensible iced coffee? A matcha you bought because you wanted to become a better person? A fountain Diet Coke held together by chemicals and spite? Something alarming and beautiful from a bubble tea menu that looked like it was designed during a fever dream?

Tell me in the comments. I support beverage-based self-reporting.

Until next time,

Alex Eos 🧋