A bit about cold

It's a bizarre -22°C outside and aptly timed to watch some Siberian tigers frolicking about in the midst of things, because why not?
The thing about Harbin is that it's a wonderland of sorts.
Here at this one of the month and for the continuing couple months this city will be celebrating something called snow and ice festival wherein Harbin will be converted into a wonderland of sorts.
Snow and ice sculptures dotted all over the city, even roundabouts and town placements decorated with twinkling ice, which gives it that iceberg quality of beauteous frost where you'd stand admiring the beauty of it while nursing some gangrene.
Yes it's cold, and yes it's all worth it for a couple days at least.
One shouldn't venture out and about without being clothed in multi layers of warmth and snow shoes, neither is it the kind of place where tourists need stays more than a couple days, but every day that one does live here is worth the icy breath.

A few minutes outside and your mundane plastic bottle is a solid rock of mineral ice cube, frost glimmering on eyebrows and eyelashes makes you wish for sunny beaches and volcanic eruptions, toes and fingers lose sensation and it's an odd mix of wonder and worry..though if one is toasted warm on the chests and clothed in one too many clothing then this numbness is only a symptom of extreme cold and nothing to worry about, and this really is the mad experience that beckons one to Harbin.

My second time here and it's lost none of the charm.

But of course it’s all made out of snow

Winter lights

The thing about sunsets is that I love them when they're incidental.

Doing touristy things with tourists

Life imitating art

This ain't a painting..these jellyfish are in fact as real as my love for you my darling, albeit a lot less grosser than my absolutely disgusting thoughts that have a habit of branching into the deliciously insane.

Kisses

Sunset today..

No no

Double phew!!
Today, uh, today shouldn't repeat itself.
And I've to be at the airport at 4:30 am tomorrow morning.
Yikes, and like a thoughtful, well scheduled person that I am, I'm unwinding after this nonstop day with a tall glass of achingly cold beer.
If I don't wake up on time then know this it's only because I was much too busy today.

What work could one possible have one would well ask?

Terraforming the guest room to suit needs of a human being other than a boring ghost being among one of them, cooking up things, sprucing my house and blowing it into another dimension with fairy lights.
This might seem like light work but if it were then why did I only just get free now towards the end of the day?

The only thing my wrecked body could muster in terms of dinner was a bit of pasta which I ate with the enthusiasm of a wolf making game of a baby rabbit.

Ah, tomorrow is going to be odd.

Soon.

Ps. People don't let me type without asking 'what are you doing? Are you writing?
Etc etc

Nights aloud

What is this night?
Uncaring, pragmatic
dark sullen despair
When I need your kiss
A touch a throb
the heat of your unwavering stare
a love pluck hurt
disheveled shirt
window of your soul
when you ignite into pieces
of thousand lustful teases
I remember your peeping mole.

Life, come to me

So here's the thing.
I'm half dead, or almost completely perhaps.

But here's the thing.
I've finished a good many chapters of my story not till the end but still, so here's what I'm going to do.
Instead of posting them every day, I will post them say, twice a week. That way I won't kill myself and the flow won't break either.

I think that's a good option to stay afloat.

Phew!
My everything hurts today.

Bake house

One chocolate, two cinnamon

Twisted cinnamon rolls

Dreamentia

What do I say about dreams that forget their place in life and begin verging on reality?
What business have they being so authentic in their colour schemes, facial representation, background noises, voice overs and situations?
I was upset and hurt that my tooth had loosened from its socket and I could push it forward with my tongue.
I was aware that this usually happens in dreams but then my family members were present in it too.
This couldn't surely have been a dream.

Oh! is it for real? Am I losing a tooth?
It had begun easing out but I'd need to see a dentist.
But it should be a dream. But it wasn't!!!
No!! My tooth.

My entire family was present, I was embarrassed at losing a tooth and had no idea why it was happening.
I'll have to see a dentist I knew, but I was so hurt and sad that it woke me up, an a trembling tongue slowly gliding all over my dentures informed me that all was well!!
Goddamn dream!
Go to hell.

Religious readings

Fast fast

If I typed any faster there'd be smoke billowing out of my keyboard.
The constraints of time have pushed me to finish the story not in a span of few days but overnight, and today I've written two more parts, and hopefully two more again tomorrow and perhaps that way I can end this craziness.
I mean what have I got myself into?

I've work tomorrow, dear heavens I've work tomorrow and if I can finish everything in time, it'd be a miracle.

Brrr

My hands and feet have remained achingly cold all day and I've a good mind to wrap my mattress around me.

plans

Traveling is a bit like a math equation. One HAS to follow a formula, or else there'll only be mistakes compounded by a loss of valuable time and money.
You decide, you make bookings and you leave, thus ensuring a seamless travel, without the hassles of deciding what to do on spot, looking at phones to search locations and making poor decisions.

No matter how spur of the moment, a travel plan is most important.
It's fun to travel directionless when there's no urgency to reach someplace, but even then you need a plan or something like it.
Imagine boarding a bus and getting off some random place in the middle of the night, hungry and with no place to stay.

Efficient travelling as tedious as it might sound is, in fact, vital in ensuring that the travels are less of travails, and though planning takes away from the romanticism attached to getting lost someplace, it considerably prevents one from getting truly lost.

So yes, travel plans are sadly important and do tell, where doth you travel?

Problemantics

I never thought I'd do this but here I am, making a timetable for my tasks that need be done in the next few days, or else I might drive myself into seasonal stress, something I don't much look forward to.
Considering it's Thursday tomorrow and I've only time till Saturday to get done with some essentials because after that I'll be fairly busy, I'm just trying to figure out how exactly should I go about this whole thing, and I've a story to finish on top of all that.
I wish I could say that writing takes hardly anytime but it consumes a solid four hours to write the thousand words that I feel are almost seamless, at least I hope so.
Now I've to factor in that time along with the other activities and might be I'll have to cancel on a plan for tomorrow that involves a luncheon and gossips, just to be able to get done with everything.
Oh dear, this isn't going as well.
Maybe a divine enlightenment or perhaps an epiphany..either might do.

Nights zones

Nighttime and the air freezes into crystalline drops that crinkle under my breath.
An invisible crunch of icy depth
fitting into a cotton coffin, moulding it around my limbs to fit in snug, while I await my nightly death.

Question marks

What reason have I to watch Mukbangs at odd hours when I'm most susceptible to hunger and bad choices?
The wonders of self affliction delicious discomfort.

µµ

And then I'm drowning in a trail of words, left like breadcrumbs, to follow into gallows most beloved, steadily dissociating head from the heart.

Peeling

The final stages of candied citrus peel making; the actual candying process.
Here they are boiling in sugar.

Agenda

Things on my agenda:

Make candied citrus peel.
It's not as much difficult as it's fiddly and an important ingredient for fruit cakes and in my case enriched marzipany breads.
The bread part I'll probably start tomorrow, but the candied peels need be prepared today.

Tuesday turbulence

That I'm zipping through my day like a photon on steroids would be mildly putting it because it's only just morning and I'm done with a sackful of chores.

Something about this weather that makes me yearn for heat not only in terms of physical warmth but even in foods that impart sweaty brows and deep pungency.

I don't know what reasons but maybe the unbearable cold subdues and diffuses most flavours and you want that savory stimulation that makes you want to squeeze in your cheeks and open your mouth to draw in air.

Case in point my homemade, five minute pickle that has only a few ingredients, which is meant to be eaten from the moments it's prepared and it's usually prepared in small quantities because it isn't meant to last more than a few weeks.
It's odd, that these cravings for this particular zesty pickle only happen in this particular weather, and it's a dining staple in my parents house as well.
My mom always made some, in different varieties too, and perhaps I've picked that up from her.

Whatever it is, this pickle is uplifting with a fiery sharpness that not only comes from the chilies and ginger but also from crushed mustard seeds and turmeric, accompanied by a sour tang, courtesy apple cider vinegar and lemon juice.

Ideal for dolloping over rice, breads, paranthas especially and enjoying the spicy (not furiously hot) sensation it imparts.

Hear hear

What can I say about today except that it was quintessentially Monday, as dastardly a day that ever had the chance to draw its fangs upon my hapless person and leech out of me, every ounce of activity that could be crammed in a day.
That my day was choke full of being busy without a moments rest would be an almost accurate way of putting things, though highly lacking in perspective, because it drained out my manna, most indescribably so..yet I sit fresh faced and dewy eyed, not because I want to sleep but because I'm scared of looking over at my shoulder and finding some work that I've left pending and then rush to finish it.

Top it with the need and urgency to finish my story before weekend, that made me want to compartmentalize my every chore, making a sort of mind stack of things that have to done and are done.

This is a stressful time for me, not least because I've guests arriving in less than a week but because I've a good many things that need be done in time.
There's a fair amount of cooking involved as well.
I've to cook up Christmas gifts, something I do every year, that I'll do this year as well and it needs time management, but clubbed with it are other sweets and savories that have to be prepared before the arrival of some beloved family members and time is of the essence.

Ah, what? Yes..things I've to do tomorrow are most interesting.
Candied peels are on the agenda.

Something about this weather and this time of the year that makes me want fresh pickles.
No, not the traditional kinds, but the fresh citric kinds that are prepared at a moments notice with a few ingredients and last only a few weeks on the table, because they are seriously that tempting and made in small quantities.
Perhaps I'll make something tomorrow..

More updates soon..

Hearts

Ice ice darling

Huh! Oh dear, oh no!
To wake up inside of an iceberg and work first thing in the morning is where my brains in cahoots with my body refused to as much as get out of bed and rebel against any duties I might have assigned myself.
This just won't do it said, and here I am, waking almost two hours after and feeling well rested.

Gimme food!

Now I ask you what's the point of going out drinking, getting drunk and not having dinner later?
Odd part being I was the only one interested in eating something larger than mere snacks that were not the kind of pub foods I like indulging in, but in case of democracy take shelter and run, or stick with majority; such wise words, both of which I don't believe.

there were wedges, nachos, Mediterranean platter, onion rings, and alcohol..lots of it and this business carried on until wee hours of night, to the point I anxiously looked at people around wondering when will food be ordered.
I had my eyes on a rather delicious looking seafood pasta and when finally I brought the big question of what is a everyone ordering? I was looked upon as an unwanted leper.
Huh? Are you hungry? I was asked.
Well d-uh. We've not had dinner, except these large snacks and designer craft beer and of course I'm hungry.
But, but we've had so much to eat they said unanimously.
Yeah but it's not food proper I'd answered surprised, but they'd raised their eyebrows in a series of question marks..and uh.

Then tumbled out sympathetic apologies and words like you can order food if you like etc etc, but clearly no one else was even remotely interested in eating, and so I let it be.
Gah! I hated myself for not ordering food when everyone was munching on snacks. I'd merely assumed that people would be interested in dinner later, but I was wrong.

My stomach wasn't empty, but it wasn't full in a way I'd like it to be. The satisfaction was missing and a little void that had teeth like a leech sat sucking at my soul.

Now I'm awake and ravenous.
So god help me and others around me!

Latecomers

What does 7pm mean?
Not 8pm surely.

People follow IST even while in another country.
Curses to be so punctual.

croak

I have no opinion on crocs except that they're plastic and why would anyone want to wear plastic?

birds

What is it about birds chirping in the most godforsaken weather? It's rained all night, it's raining still and the birds can't seem to take a break.
The music they make is most welcome this torrid cold weather, but I wonder about them. Why do I not hear them as often on a sunny day, as much as I do, on a rainy one?

wonders..

Night blimp

Nighttime and the air is rich with perishing pixels
scrub my skin for residual hate
left mischance perhaps
from that time we were awake
in the last of night
when smiles for smiles and ache for ache
were exchanged in secret tones
abstruse scripts of puzzling Morse
climaxes and salacious moans
nocturnal ramblings in secret codes
that flowed in fluid time

Super soup

I cannot ever come to terms with Ben Affleck as Batman. He can never be the Batman how Batman should be.
-
There's never been a proper depiction of Superman in any movie, to this date. I just don't get how the strongest superhero ever gets such dowdy portrayals. His comic versions are far stronger than his boring movie narratives and too human failings. Also, why is there a reason to always have a Lois Lane in his movies? Can we just do a gritty, Superman movie without the love angle? Where only his awesome superpowers that are far superior than any superhero are portrayed in its most unprocessed form.

˜Ω˜

Hear now my darling, that each time I wish to hate you, I end up falling in love a little bit more
every time I wish I could take a hatchet to this thread, I strengthen it like a rope

Lunch

Food pop art

Hulked

Positively imbued with hues of green sensation.
Today I feel a bit of green revolution tingling my senses.

last month

It's always at this time of the year that I stock up on my kitchen essentials and supplies, not least because it's cold and going out to buy small portions of basic necessities at regular intervals is a thought most unwelcoming, but also because 'tis that time of year when indulgences significantly increase and there's a colourful aura of fun festivities, or perhaps this could just be in my head, or a wintery syndrome.

I find myself cooking more, gifting more (foods that I've cooked that is) and eating more.
I've half a mind to bake some delicious, multigrain bread today, anything that speaks sustenance in carb tongue.

post it

All hail the existence of full-length mirrors, and the wonderful job they do, reflecting gorgeousness in all its entirety.

sigh, words fail me. 

Burn burnt sleep

Nighttime and the lights now die
and so I make my bed in which I lie
letting sleep seep in slowly
darkened by fires of storms unholy
lit in darkness thoughts some words I wouldn't say
Ones that belong to you, and you alone, each night, every day.

Kill my lips

Say one thing about skin, say it's a treacherous sheet of epidermal layer.

The amount of creams, lotions, serums, moisturizers, oils, that I apply on my face probably weigh in tonnes and yet, today, as I opened my face wide to bite on a ludicrously inviting red apple, I felt my skin tear, and I'm sure it must've made a sound had it not been camouflaged under the deafening scrunch of my teeth digging into the juicy flesh of said fruit.

I felt like one of those portraits where you see a skull tearing out of molten flesh that's recently been bathed with acid, except there was no acid.
A tiny red scratch like a welt has surfaced on the left side of the lip and it burns.
Gah!! I'm madly pissed.
The weather isn't kind to me, at all.
Sobs

ˆ ¬ø√´ ¥ø¨

Something about Tuesday that makes you want to shop for a guillotine..some days you wake up and some days you wake the fuck up.

trash talk morning noon

To open your eyes like a night creature, moulting out of a sarcophagus, slithering into the shivering world to slowly walk on an icy pavement, feezing every step of the way in the dark of the morning, while the sun stays undecided to make a statement.

Towards the horizon must you wait? facing the sky, on the sly, hoping a burn would taint your skin, spark a flame in a dying ember, smouldering under a frosted gaze.

My morning that begins with a whisper, continues in a whimper, caressed by a whisker..one that is today, that will be tomorrow and after that, but they look conjoined, labyrinthine, this daily maze.

Night ting ting

And so I pluck at stars
stud them to my chest
hoping they'd warm me
while I curl up in my nest

Sting

There's an absolutely electrifying ad for an energy drink called 'sting' bombarding every channel, and I must confess to finding that advertisement enormously funny for some reason..now I wonder how that drink actually is.
It's a brilliant cherry red, at least looks like and I'm positively intrigued.

Have you tried it?
If you get a chance to review it, then please do. :)

That’s when I think of you

What I'd like to eat is an entire 100g bar of malevolently dark, richly smooth, bitter chocolate..what, however, I'm going to eat is one teeny square of the said chocolate; letting it slowly melt into an ooze of cocoa decadence as I nibble on it, little by little, feeling the luxuriously molten chocolate gush into a thickly delicious vanilla hinted lake of post dinner indulgence.

Furry day stacked high

Say one thing about today, say it got madly hectic.
What with a bundle of chores and work thrown at my person from a slingshot called life I found myself getting drawn and quartered with a multitude of things happening around me, which seemed inescapable to say the least.
Top it all with impossible deadlines I've assigned myself, adding just that touch of masochism one looks for in a good tragedy..not that I'm tragic, just that I seem to be caught in a whirlwind of overwhelming moments that were bent on overwhelming each other adding to the distress.
Something of a overwhelmception.

Ah, add to that a small trophy of little scratches I seem to have amassed after giving my cat a sort of a bath, most crucial, looking at his recreational endeavours of rolling about in the mud before leaping on my lap and duvet.
To say that he was displeased would be like saying the water is wet, because he was mighty discontent at having come in contact with warm H2O which I didn't even soak him in, but I did get a glimpse of the kind of terror members of the cat family are known to inflict on hapless Homo sapiens.
Not only did kitty got claws, but his purr was an almost roar but I dotingly persevered and cleaned him as best as I could.
His fur is that much shinier, looking like a puffed up fatty he sits next to the heater gleaming, if a bit sulky.

Noneday moping

This morning is the strangest thing
in its odd ways to greet
I wake up to embrace it
and it lies dying at my feet

Releasing a dream
in puffs of Monday mist
I jump to cajole it
each day on repeat

Oh dear

Blue skies
Overflowing buildings

Phew

Did I not just spend half my day making a timeline for a story in progress.
I mean what gives?
But on a side note, do update as and when you read..I'd love to hear some

boo

Today I feel like drawing tits.
But I have to write.
Maybe I can write about tits.
but that's another story
on another blog 

oh this oh that

That I have icicles instead of fingers which need thawing just so I can type like a homo sapien that I am instead of mangling keys on the board like a neanderthal is the reason why I've turned on the air conditioner, finally! 

That time of the day when you need to pierce your ears with long melodic riffs and deep resonant voices that have a touch of space metal with all the virtues of retro bass.

Work, yes! plenty of it.

For some reason I felt a bit of gluttony take over my senses like an overcast cloud bursting over a dead desert, similarly did I attack a plate of leftovers with all the hunger of a starving tapeworm and the spectacle that ensued should never be witnessed by my loved ones, for I probably turned into the missing link between cavemen and present apartment dwellers, so maniacally did I ravage my food that the only way to have dessert now is tearing open someone's jugular and drinking straight from it. 

Not that I will, but then again, I might..at least I might have had it been you, my darling. 

Glug glib gunk love

Funny this, that my day begins at a lightening speed so early in the morning and stalls after 9:00am.
I just kind of sit, listening to music, sipping on water and doing a lot of nothing..could be because I get done with chores a lot earlier than I used to and that is if anything a boon to any day.
Finding yourself amidst chores in the later part of morning pushes the entire daily schedule making everything late, but now that everything is early I sit with a couple hours at hand, wanting to do nothing, save some workout, and silently pacing the house, musing and brooding.

I've an aversion to looking at screens in the morning, in fact anytime before perhaps 10:00am, except for maybe my phone, which I sometimes use to write and post here, but other than that my iPad stays lost, my laptop stays shut and maybe this is me being a dinosaur in the age of digital enslavement, but that's how the raptor rumbles.

In a short while after a but of munch I shall be tethered to my laptop, but that's only because my other notes are left written on quicksand and on sandy shores of beached waves..they're hardly readable.

Hearts.

Full face

I'm an anathema to all that is sans fards , today

Caked

I ate two pieces of cake with a small espresso and now I feel guilty..not least because I ate cake but because the cake in question is madly rich, and only one piece would have sufficed, but something about the airy mousse that wanted me to embalm my insides with its deep rum drenched flavours made me so a bit of greedy jive and cut two generous portions.
Now I feel like eating something spicy, but no..I've to hold on. There's a seven course dinner plan tonight and I can't be too full.

Uh. Why do I feel like eating noodles?

Zits

That break outs and pimples will only ever happen when you've a big night out, right on the tip of your nose like a bulls eye.

Pimples or break outs as these usually are called are a rare occurrence on my skin, happening perhaps twice a year, during certain times or just randomly but never often, and for that I'm glad, but why did it just pop up on my nose, like a bright red beaming bump today?

Ugh.
Face mask, where you at?

birth a day

What have I decided for today?
That I'm going to exactly nothing. Nothing that I'd ordinarily do.
Which means I've not had a conventional breakfast, except a couple fruits and a cup of tea.
I've not bathed, because it's sunny today and the warmth is fleeting so I've applied coconut oil all over and sit in the balcony soaking a bit of vit D. Yes it's freezing but there's sun, and sunshine on my spine is a wonderful feeling.
I've no plans for today except a bit of evening repast, other than that there's nothing I'm willing to do.
Perhaps I won't even sit in front of my screen and type out today's story.
It could be argued that I just went through a Spartan weekend and what I do today could be a visual photostat, but it's not true and ye know it.
I've done no chores, cooked no breakfast, packed no lunch, in fact didn't even wake up at my usual early morning time, neither did I go for a bike ride or do any workout. So yes, today is an anomaly, but I intend to go through today with an empty head and a full heart.
There's a deliciously luxurious chocolate mousse cake in the fridge, lighter than air, malevolently bitter, with just the kind of sinful depth that I like to drown in without the aid of an anchor of which half I ate last night and the rest I intend to lunch on.
Why? Because why not?
Too much of a good thing is wonderful, and today everything is going to be exceedingly me.

Thanks my darling

effervescent froth of a kiss that lightly touched my face, like a soft whisper of a fleeting blink in way of a traveling wish, landing silently upon my eyes, feathery caress of a lovelorn sigh, that sets aglow all that is within me..tearing into a smile that only you can see.

Draaama dinner

Yikes!
I didn't realise it's past seven and I haven't cooked dinner. How is that possible?
So lost was I in writing that for the longest time I thought that time is in stasis and that clock must not have budged beyond five, and how wrong was I?
Yikes on the double.
I should have had dinner by now.
Oh come on.

I'm slowly coming to the conclusion that dinner should be cooked during day so you don't have to fiddle about with food in evenings.
And this this is precisely what going to do from now on.
All that time in the morning I have leftover to muse for myself, when I can just prepare dinner and slit my veins.

Cafe coff

I know this looks totally gunge and ancient and only because it's from 1993, but this single serving one cup moka pot is an original Bialetti and an absolute delight and I couldn't use this vintage bit of caffeine love for the longest time because I couldn't find a stove top mesh to keep this tiny bottomed lovely senora, but the tides have turned and I finally got an aluminium rim, and so, here I am, making this lovely teeny cup concoction to dunk and dive.

Drunk duds

The thing about drinking just the right amounts is that you sleep in a flash and wake up recovered, refreshed if a little thirsty.
I'm guilty of squeezing a wedge of lemon in my Hoegaarden and chasing it with a small shot of bourbon in a span of over three hours and that my lord is all I did.

I do not mind drinking as long as it's not excessive and I don't wake up hungover, and yes, if my reverie isn't sprinkled with dehydrated bits of waking sleepless tatters.

A bit here, a little there is all fine by me.

Two’s one

I think the one thing I'm really scared of in my head is being quarantined. Dear good, never let that happen.

On side note I might be a bit drunk right now, and I might have ordered pizza.

Dread

Who me?
Oh just binge watching Penny Dreadful..because Victorian age, blood, literature, blood, vampires, Frankenstein, Dorian grey, everything in public domain, EVA GREEN, corsets, metaphors, blood.

So I went to an Izakaya today

Selfish

Channelling my inner reds in the blues

love blush doll

A hundred felicitations on the thousands of words, for what are you if not the chaotic architect of abyssal hieroglyphics, siring a bottomless macrocosm of organic manuscripts that find a way to etch on the insides of my marrow, imprinting cosmic scripts of longhand lust. 

Tea tops

Apart from days that I go on a voluntary caffeine purge, I need some tea in my system each morning after a small meal which I had to forego today, seeing how I had to leave early and whatnot.. but five hours later when I came back home, tea was the first thing I concocted for myself, and feeling it drain down my gullet was something akin to vampires feeding on blood. I think I understand their need now.
I almost surprised myself on realizing how deeply I felt one with that brewed manna.
Ah, maybe I should indulge a little more and make another cup. It's Friday after all. 

bike, Friday reich

They say (I don't know who does) that whatever you do on the first day of the beginning of the month, you inadvertently carry on with that ritualistic exercise for the rest of the month, and if I go by that accord then December will be spent bicycling through the city.

Instead of walking I decided to cycle to the bank and filled with the exuberance of having gone through said bank work with unequalled efficiency, decided to do the rest of work lined up for the day on a bicycle as well.
One of those random city rides if you please, where I almost travelled from one end to another on a bicycle, not the everyday mundane cycle, but my multi-gear Giant On Road which I love and adore like a heartbeat.
One of those rare days when I actually gear up with helmet and whatnot, but it's worth it.
The crispy frozen chill that begins by cutting across your face in needle-like rasping jagged edged saw turns into a cooling balm when you begin sweating and after five hours of bike ride speckled with assorted work I got back home feeling rejuvenated and destroyed at the same time.

It was the first bout of exercise in almost two weeks and the wonders it does in reanimating your system to a piece of malleable flesh of galvanized machinery is something of an experience only exercise can tell.

Flip side being I got done with work that wouldn't have ordinarily taken up more than two hours into a five-hour long mission, but I don't look at it as time wasted.

But yikes, I came back home to an already occupied abode, because people were here before me and I just know it will be another Friday repeating itself, in that I won't be able to get done with work I'm supposed to do today, viz., updating my story, because that expects me to sit and seat and get lost in words for as long as I want, an impossibility when I'm not alone.

Not to mention a steady message bombardment of plans for tonight.
I plan to do some work, but then again..sigh

Night a boom

In a tattered night
I've sutured dreams
of faint starlight
your galaxies
exploding silently
cosmic finality
of beating heart
that strays in your path
to be picked up
on an extend nail
affixed on your neck
in rhythmic procession
beating in a trifecta
of galactic trail

Immolation

Burn baby burn

made up memoirs

Here's a funny thing about memories- they randomly pop out of the weirdest places of the oddest things, and you're left reminiscing about them in a light you probably might not have at that moment of the incident. 

Case in point my visit to Sephora in Delhi.

Not a spectacular place, but okay lot's of makeup in one place and what not..great! Here's the odd part. 

The salesmen of shop attendants or whatever is it that one calls them were all men.

I don't know why but I felt rather uncomfortable talking to men about makeup and listening to them suggest colours and tones for my skin.

Not that it's a problem, anyone can buy or sell makeup, but I didn't feel relaxed while browsing for goods or swatching colour because a man would pop up out of nowhere and start asking me what I was looking for, brand, skin type etc, and really I wanted, needed a woman to come over and talk to me about these things, and all the female sales representatives (I think that's the correct terminology these days) stood in a crowd and chatted on, while men, who I didn't think would understand makeup the way women do, crowded over me, applying creams on my hands, shoving concealers on my face, dangling primers on my head, and though they were just doing their job I just felt mighty uncomfortable.

I wanted to hear a woman's voice talk to me about foundations and night masks and lip glosses, and mattes, not men. Ugh. 

I'm not being a sexist in any way..you see, I'd be okay if some man who wore makeup showed me these things, but then none of these men were the kinds who wore or even went close to makeup and knew the nitty-gritty of how makeup applies or the problems women face with certain areas on their face, things that only women or men who wore makeup would know.

It's something similar to buying lingerie or discussing it with a male rep. Yes, they can sell lingerie but they don't know the specifics of that particular garment the same way a woman or a man who wore lingerie would know and understand. 

Yeah, so memories and odd thoughts. strange. 

Inner monologues

Who me?
Why, I just got back from the bank.
Bank work, for which I left at 7:30 to reach there on time at 8:00, and realise it was closed because the opening time was 9:00.

Then what?
I just stood out, waiting for the bank to open and then it began to rain

Uh oh?
Yeah, I sought shelter under an awning and held up my umbrella but there was a strong gale and I was getting mindlessly wet and so much for walking to the bank.

Oh dear!
Yes indeed, I'd not even breakfasted, thinking my work would be done in a short short while, but no!

And so?
I was near a shopping complex abrim with pastry and coffee shops that beckoned to me

You didn't!
I did. Walk into a patisserie I did. Sat on a warm chair I did. Order a Danish pastry, a small egg sandwich and a steaming pot of hot coffee, I did. What can I say? I caved in.

On a Thursday?
Precisely and I'm sad and yet not overly so. Things happen. Plans go awry. Learn to deal with it.

And the bank work?
Uh, only partially done. I've to be back there on Saturday morning. (Sad face)

Up down date

Wasn't it just yesterday when I spoke so highly of having all the time in the world, and yet I didn't find any to finish my story for today.
One moment I was wracking up my word count designated to each part I post and another I was greeting surprise guests and within moments it was dinner time and socialising time and now it's bed time and even though I've just a few more hundred words before the next chapter I can't get myself to work at night, not least because I find it hard to concentrate at night when the only thing I'll be wondering about will be waking early in the morning.
Also, it just feels alien to sit in a separate room so late at night, and that it's so dark makes it feels like another life in some other part of time.
So yes, the story is delayed and I'll have it put up tomorrow, not that it matter but I think to me it does.
So phew!

What next?
Oh yes, it's raining as usual and it's cold and dark, not that darkness makes a difference seeing how dark it was the entire day, but ugh, ice bank work tomorrow..double ugh.

Hearts. Misses

Lo lunch

My version f the absolutely delicious Japanese 'omurice'..yes it has ketchup, and yes as vulgar as the sounds it's incredibly delicious.

Brrr today

What's not to love about the cold gloom, wet with diamond drops of icy rain, permeating homes in a winter mist of bluish doom.

Missings hissings

Last night as I wondered
Why must my heart hurt so
is there a reason today
thoughts dripped in woe
and so I knew
is been a while
since I saw a face
watched it smile
''tis been oh so long
this aching gap
of winter's wrong
has stretched infinitely
each moment strong
not a second alone
to cast a stone
or float a boat
the wormhole pines
my time zone denies
and so I strew
just as you
bottled messages
in digital seas

the knife of hearts

Spending over two hours sharpening knives might seem just that bit extraneous but it is, in fact, the most significant part of your kitchen vanity, which doesn't translate to a superfluous function of arbitrary beauty, but practical utility.

Speaking as someone who wields knife nearly as much if not more as pens and colouring tools, I could not emphasize enough on the usefulness of sharp knives in the kitchen, not least because it serves the most important purpose, that of slaughtering, chopping, carving, slicing, dicing, skinning, peeling, cutting and so on; it is also a reflection of your kitchen and an important implement in silently describing your behaviour in general.

Buying sharp knives is as easy as ignoring them when they go dull, and dull knives speak of laziness, callousness and an obdurate diinclination to be a part of kitchen, which is a rather unbecoming trait of any household.

Kitchen, in essence, is the heart of a home and neglecting its needs and desires results in the overall sickening of the essence that builds to make a home. 

Knives are like its arteries that have to be kept in fitful states so they don't get blocked and obfuscate the efficient movement of the heart. 

Knives, often times go dull, and it's our duty to keep them looking and behaving in the manner they were always meant to be. Disrespecting them by letting them lose their edge or (gasp) letting them rust is a crime most vile towards any self-respecting kitchen. 

If you love your knives, they'll love you back. watch them shimmer in action with lightning fast chopping, enabling faster meals. A sharp blade results in cleaner cuts, uniform slices and accurate sizes that cook better, resulting in tastier food, with better caramelization and uniform cooking time. 

We often forget these basics of home cooking, thinking it's just home food, everything goes! 

If that's the attitude towards kitchen, food and knives, then that is the attitude in general.

Light up your kitchen. Sharpen your knives, give them some love and feel the difference. 

few things in life are nearly as satisfying as watching a sharp blade in action. 

When life gives lemons

I was almost coming down with a cold last night, and I say almost because it lingered about the periphery of my health a while and retreated into viral depths of nauseating sufferings..only because I had the presence of mind to immediately drink warm lemon water that very moment.

Now, I don't know if that was the exact reason or because it just didn't mean to infect me, considering I always drink lemon water each morning and by that rule alone I should've been immune, but I do thank my stars or lemons in this case for saving me from cold, at least I'd like to think so.

Incoming cold sends various signals to a body, a way of herald to inform the immune system of its savage onslaught, and in my case it inevitably begins with a violent itching of the right eye.
Weird isn't it?
But that's how it is.
When my right eye begins to itch in a way that someone is sitting behind my cornea tickling it with a sandpaper sending me in to a convulsive frenzy of uncontrollable scratching, I just know it to be incoming cold–that's when my eyes begin to water and the tickling sensation travels down to my nose from my eyes and I start feeling like I'm coming down with something.

I squeezed a fat lemon, juicing it until its gut spilled out and dowsed it with warm water, and what I drank, sour as it was just remedied the situation almost overnight.

Will this cold come back? I don't know, but I'm sitting in a lime shrine, praying it does not.

Lunch me please

Modesty on Monday is most becoming.
Veggie scramble with potatoes, peppers, tofu and mushrooms with dollops of hummus to mimic the eggy protein; punctuated with a sea of sriracha.

Peanut roast

The long end

Mornings are not for me, no sir, they're just not.
As alien, abnormal, unusual, even silly as I find waking up early in the mornings, there is no way around it.
I can either stay embedded in my bed like a dead widget or get a move on to get things done that need be done in mornings.
Yes there are chores that need finishing, food that needs cooking, lunch that needs boxing and breakfast that needs fixing, but for all that waking up so early feels a bit savage.
Especially in winters when sun won't rise until it's almost afternoon and the barest hint of a finger outside of warm bedding seems to shrivel into a dried raisin, and yet one has to slide out of their comfort zone to get things done.
This is, the sad way of life and if there ever were a getting around it, I would without the blink of an eyelid circumvent my way, which is why I have been nothing short of surprised when the past few days I've not only willingly gotten out of bed at 5:00 but almost immediately, after a short sip of water, left for a long, long, brisk walk.

Now, one might roll their eyes and say what on earth? As did I the first time, but here's the thing I don't know why I started this except that it was involuntary.

The only rational explanation I can think of is that it's an overhaul of lifestyle changes that comes with the sum total of experiences and regrets.
And with me, I think it happens every couple years.

Since my muscle injury the past week, my workout regime has been put on ice for at least three weeks, and for a moment I did rejoice but a few short days later realised that it made me antsy to not work out.

Not working out willingly on a vacation out of laziness and sense of euphoric holiday mood is one thing, but being put out of it when you're in the full swing of things is another, and irks me to not be able to do my usual bit of jumping and lifting.
I'd no idea the bloody thing was so addictive, which is why I took to long walks in order to get some exercise- and usually went out during afternoon or mornings, until a few days ago.. I woke up one morning some minutes before 5:00, put on my sport shoes and left.
It was cold, midnight dark and silent. It was lovely and the icy kick of the mornings was nothing short of rejuvenating.
I loved it. I did, and have been doing that every day since, it's not been that long, but I don't wish I stop.

I don't run nor jog, any activity that might cause sharp movements of shoulders and neck is forbidden, so I simply walk, fast and far.

The best part is when I come home after an hour people are still sleeping, and it gives me time to cook and clean before it's barely 8:00.

I type as the clock ticks close to 11:00 and my day has been long already.
Not just that, I don't feel fatigued nor drained as waking up late made me feel, nor is half my day swamped with chores, because they were done a long time back.

Of course this comes at the expense of nighttime, but then again, nights have been useless to me for a while. They don't pack the zing they once did, or might on rare days..so if this is a new addition to my schedule then I welcome it. Will I continue this after my shoulder heals and I can workout?
Yes, I think so.
As much as I hate waking early, I've realised it's not half as bad.

Mistakes

Who me?

Just calling forth the gods of bulimia to shed some kindness on me and help me purge the godforsaken binge I just subjected my body to.

Why?
Because I've been getting incessantly badgered for the past week to make 'chhole bhature' and it came to a tipping point this morning, and I had to cave in and tonight, well, tonight I did the unthinkable, or rather the much needed and did the unneeded.

The thing about this lavish meal is that it's most unmerciful to your body, and the evil little fluffy fried breads of refined dough are degenerately delicious..and not to fawn over me, but my lord, I do know a thing or two about making these blasphemous little devils and so I went about making them for dinner.

Think an edible, nay, gorgeously delectable sponge, think bhature, because that's exactly how they soak up oil.
One could wring them morn to night and you'd still find drops of oil pooling down your elbows.
-and I ate two of them. Not that I couldn't eat more, just that I realised I might pretty much die after another bite, and so wiser decisions prevailed and here I sit, wishing for a good bout of midnight anorexia to assail my body and do my sins right.

Sigh. Now what?
Well, this is the last fried food of the year.
Yessir.

Because there was a bit of light

Pic

flowing bridges
glowing nights
hold it there for a moment
don't you get outta my sight

Night shine

And so today

The originals

I don't know if you're aware but the only real way of eating momos that I know of is with a bowl of clear soup and momo chutney.

The first time I ever ate this delicious piece of soft flour wrapper encasing minced meat was when I was roughly 14 and had gone to watch a movie at 'Chanakya' movie hall as a sort of treat after a sports meet.
Chanakya complex, at that time of life was one of those most popular hangout's one had to be seen at.
There was a rather popular outlet for Nirula's there as well, in my memory it was always full of people and I often badgered my parents to treat me to an HCF. That's what we young ones and apparently cool ones called hot chocolate fudge, one of those mad things I could never get enough of.

It was at that time when a stall, more like a small open restaurant for momos got rather popular.
Now, momo being one of those rare unearthly items no one had ever much heard of let alone see and to me it looked like it had my name written all over.

Seeing my curiosity I was rather benevolently taken to the stall where I'd asked for chicken momos, and at that time in world, in our country, beef wasn't nearly as taboo..for the menu had pork, chicken, fish and beef momos.

After ordering one plate of momo's and being curiously drawn to big baskets being manned by rather dexterous cooks I was presented with the most gorgeously piquant smelling food.
It was a plate of typically classic chicken momos, served with a huge bowl of clear soup that was indeed clear; watery in consistency and adorned with a few flecks of green onions.

What on earth?
I hadn't seen much soups that were as watery, considering all soups in Chinese restaurants were thickened with a slurry of cornstarch, I ventured a taste and was immediately a convert.

The soup in question wasn't spicy, wasn't burgeoning with a hundred flavours, but in fact had a distinctly clean, palette cleansing quality to it, with earthy flavours that I later found out came from cooked pork and chicken bones.

Dear oh dear. The first bite into that soft, steamed momo flesh was a revelation and as a child who was being treated to a night of movie and dinner after a gruelling athletic competition I went on to not only eat another plate of those lovely dumplings but also drank two additional bowls of soup and got another plate packed for my wee brother whom I couldn't wait to share this fabulous delicacy with.

That day hence I made a weekly pilgrimage to Chanakya movie hall, that entire area thriving and alive with the most bizarre foods.. Russian, Mediterranean, Bhutanese.. and it was there that I ate momos of all varieties including fried and maybe died and went to heaven.

They were always always served with their fantastic clear soup and never have I ever had momos without the soup, which is why I felt rather pained at finding bastardised momo stalls crop up all over the city, serving momo's without the soup, in fact they didn't even know that soup was almost mandatory when served with these steamed dumplings.

Dilli Haat was another of those thankfully traditional places that always served clear soup with momo's and their versions were pretty decent too, though not nearly good enough to even come close to ones in Chanakya but still, not bad.

I've not eaten momo's for a while now, and I'm not sure if I even want to, seeing how they've lost the real essence of their creation in steady demise of their own popularity.
Ah, it pains me to see how they're being mass produced out of every second stall and look nothing like their forefathers.

How I long to eat proper momo's with a bowl of soup and red hot chutney.

Argh!

No valid reason ever needed for killing your spouse.

It's a Friday which goes on to say a lot, since it's not the weekend yet, but people come home early and what not and absolutely disrupt the tranquility of your daily harmonious goings on.

It was all smooth sailing and serenity which within moments got upended into a blizzard like activity.

Just a while back I was engrossed typing my life out and not a minute later found myself fiddling about to cook something because people are always hungry.
Of course it could be argued that one doesn't have to necessarily get up and start cooking, but experience teaches and brings forth visions of discordant kitchen scenes when people rummaged about for food.

Right, let's get working, but no!! Because wherever you are I shall linger goes the usually norm, because there's nothing better to do right now and when I need complete silence and cooperation I'm aware of a mute audience sitting at the back of my head.

That just won't do, and so, here i sit, dumbly in front of tv, writing this and wondering when can I finish my work.

Sigh.

Doodles

It's illogical, totally ridiculous, stupid even, but I feel like eating a steaming bowl of top ramen noodles right now.
I don't know why this particular craving?
It's been a couple centuries since I ate top ramen but at this hour of boredom and ugh, spicy noodles come to mind.

I had black rice salad for dinner and a tall glass of coconut water. Zen meal of the most insipid kind.
Cravings, and such particular ones too.

I've been toying with the idea of baking a small, one person brownie as well, and I don't wish for these cravings to crest into a midnight bake ache.

Noodles..sobs.
I mean buckwheat noodles are fabulous but they're not what I'd venture to eat right now.

Perhaps if I drink some warm water ..hmm..

same same

Youtube has become a black hole of 'what I eat in a day' videos and diets plans and programs.

The only safe space seems to be music subscription channels that throw such fabulous music in your daily feeds that it's difficult to hate on youtube.

That and disaster compilation videos, because everything else is so severely filtered that you can't get contradictory word sideways before getting flagged. If it's not racist, it's offensive and people have lowered their offence benchmark to the depths of hell when ideally it should be uplifted above the heavens.

Political correctness will be the death of us all.
The more people get offended the more you wish to offend them. No one can take a joke and it's time to crack the worst of jokes possible.

lip me up stick me down

Help me, dear gods. I am a lipstick hoarder.

All it took was a message from Sephora to inform me of new launches in their stores and there I was looking at the nudes and metallics and stains and balms. 

I swear it was no more than a few minutes but it's been over half an hour and I've somehow reached the Victoria Beckham Estee Lauder collection staring at golden eyeshadows.

That's when the enchantment suddenly broke and brought me to the real world with a thud and here I am, wondering why I'm not doing what I should be doing right now.

I mean lipsticks. Come on. How many could one possibly have?

I know I can't finish all my liptsicks in this lifetime and yet each time I'm near makeup I end up buying lip colours. Such is the enchantment of makeup. 

Maybe it's something to do with the fact that I can't seem to hold myself back when it comes to colours. 

Right, back to real world as it is. perhaps some hot chocolate. or maybe even some coffee, or just warm water? I's idiotically confused. 

Kitty kitty bang bang

It was around 5 this morning that the cat meowed outside my door, since I'd locked him out of the bedroom so as to catch on a bit of good quality sleep, and like an obedient feline that he sometimes is, he didn't bother me up until his five o clock meow, which sounded a bit distressed.

Launching myself out of the bed was a thing of moment when I heard knocks the sound of hammer banging on a door.
That it was not my door was only a momentary relief because the sounds that no doubt came from swift kicks seemed to reverberate throughout the building.

The fact that it was dead silent, magnified by the unbearable cold that the sounds seemed stark and almost menacing.

The cat appeared to have been terrified by these alien sounds and made a dash for my bed on which he still sleeps.

Now the sounds in questions did emanate from the banging of a door, my neighbour's door and before I could get alarmed a voice which was undoubtedly my neighbours screamed out the name of her son..well, I say scream but she was rather polite if only loud because apparently her son slept indoors while she banged at the door outside at five in the bloody morning.

So many questions.
Like why was she out at that ghastly time leaving her son at home?
Did she leave last night or did she leave early morning?
Perhaps she went for a jog in the middle of the night or at four (gasps) and expected her seven year old to stay up and let her in, the moment she knocked.
Improbable theories or maybe probable. I thought of letting her in, but didn't want her to feel embarrassed. I mean I'd be mighty ashamed if I knew that I'd roused the neighbours with a racket, so I let her be.
I'd decided to invite her in if the situation didn't improve in the next hour or so, but suddenly it was silent and I thought all was well.

A few short hours later I was out and about, making up for my no work out days with long walks (not brisk. The doctor advised me against anything brisk) and saw a gaggle of people outside her door tinkering with the locks.
Apparently a locksmith and maybe some people from the landlords family that rented her the house.

As I'd guessed, my neighbour did look embarrassed at seeing me and tried to subtly back away inside her house, and I pretended to not have seen her either, why make it awkward for someone?

All the commotion has now died down, the locks have changed, I don't know what difference did that make?

Perhaps she didn't have an extra key, or that she forgot to carry her key, or maybe there's only one key.
I don't know, except that this morning started with a bang and a terrified cat.

Flush out

What is 'detox water' ?
Is water not detoxing on its own that you've to add a multitude of additional fruits and veggies to make it 'detox' and how exactly does it help lose weight?
YouTube videos of making detox water to lose weight getting millions of views and no one asks them how does it work?

Lemon water is one thing, but it's not detox water, it's just lemon water.
What toxins does this so called detox water rid from your body?

The whole idea of adding fruits to water is so wasteful, not to mention it increases the calorie content of something as zero calorie as water.
What does one do with those weepy wasted fruits anyway?
Does one eat the limp piece of apple that went into detoxing the water and stayed buried in hydrogen depths hoping in vain to detoxify a body that sat drinking Coke Zero on the side?
Gah! This whole idea of sinking fruits in water to lose weight is a sham.
The first thing one needs do to lose any kind of weight is to stop drinking calories and drinking sweetened fruit flavoured water is exactly that.
Just eat the damn fruit, it's more nutritious and drink a glass of water on top. That'll work better.

People are a bunch of gullible fools these days. They'll believe anything playing on a screen; not one would bother to question or analyse the lies they're being fed on a daily basis.
Gah!
I'm pissed for reasons unknown.

Brrr

So cold, I had to step out of my space and into the living room where sprawls my cat on the sofa without a bother.
Ah, Wednesday.

When in shoal can it

No excuses needed to eat a mammoth lunch of the fishy kinds.
Tuna open sandwich fully loaded with vulgar amounts of melted cheddar on a wholemeal bread the size of a truck, because why not?

Also, I won't be eating anything save boiled air and diet water after this..

Never but maybe

How did this happen?

How did I voluntarily buy industrial quantities of club soda and go through them like a starving shark going through a sea of fresh corpses?
I've never had any attachments with club soda. I didn't even like how it tasted, not least because I couldn't accurately figure out the exact taste of club soda.
It's immediate taste usually began as a salty shock quickly dissolving into a bubbly sting, evaporating into a molten battery effervescence.
How does one grow to a taste like that, and I didn't..until recently, that is to say a few months back when I started drinking it with my solitary dinners and before long I was traipsing through supermarket aisles loading my cart with this odd fizz..goes to say how one suddenly develops a taste for something they've never liked, however for all my love and ravings of Japanese food, Natto is the one thing I never never never liked.
It's a staple breakfast meal in Japan and one has to flit about their chopsticks in the bowl with an eager abandon to create something of a visceral slime which is then eaten and relished.

I never found myself growing attached to fermented beans of any kind. Their smell as much as a put off is nearly as scary as its taste, texture and demeanour.
I do however like a Korean condiment made of fermented soybeans; it's rather like a paste, called 'Doenjang' , but that's the extent of my love for fermented beans, because ugh, it's an acquired taste and I'm not dauntless enough.

Time toccata

Is it easy to change habits especially ones that are comforting and effortless to get addicted to?
Of course we end up falling into habits that are inviting and relax us which is why they're habits in the first place, but as convenient as they are, seemingly so, they sometimes end up being cumbersome, burdensome, even impractical, and as much as you want to rid them, habits being habits are not easily disentangled.

A habit I'd fallen into was waking up early to fix breakfast/pack lunch and go back to sleep again.
The sleep in question was sweeter than a lovers embrace but just like the mentioned embrace it was difficult to break free of it and often I'd oversleep; sometimes not waking up until nine.
How the bed beckoned and how alluringly I let myself get enchanted in its cottony magnetism is easily guessed and as deliciously correct that decision felt at the time I'd always regret it later.

All my chores and activities got pushed to much later and at times when I'd hoped I'd have time to be with myself I realised it was evening already which meant dinner, tv and sleep.
Add to that the fact that I felt like I was immersed in chores all the time, since the hours daily assigned to such designated activities were encroached by my sleep.
Each day I'd decide to do better, or wake up early or put a alarm to sleep for only half an hour but I was kidding myself.
I'd turn off the alarm, justify my second innings of unnecessary sleep and regret or feel guilty after.
This went on for months and day after day I saw my entire day spiraling out of control.
I'd breakfast late, workout late, lunch late and immediately after find myself in the kitchen again preparing dinner.

Finally!! Finally one day I ignored the dulcet charms of my comfy bed and instead of sleeping went about my regular morning routine that on other days used to commence much after eight or nine that now began shortly after 6:30, and would wonders ever cease? I was done with my breakfast- workout- post workout meal by 10:30.

What on earth?
I'd almost forgotten this feeling of being up and about so early and now for the past couple weeks I find myself out of bed at 5:45 with a luxurious amount of time carpeting my entire day.
Of course, there are days when the entire day isn't enough to cope with its drudgeries but I don't necessarily hold that against it.

Yes it could be argued that one can utilise nighttime, but then again, there is only so much one can do at night; moreover I find myself leaning less towards creative activities at night and more towards unwarranted, unnecessary indulgences.

Am I a morning person?
Of course not, but how does one deny the fact that it's far easier to get on with an early morning than with a late night.

obliterating thoughts

This weather has hot chocolate written all over its frosted mien. The need to sip on a steaming mug of cocoa enriched with some vanilla, honey and a splash (just a splash) of foaming hot milk is strong today.

I have given up on pre-mixed hot chocolate packages, preferring to make my own mix to be jeujed up as I please.

Sometimes a sprinkle of cinnamon, sometimes a drop of orange flower extract..as befits my mood, as befits my will.

It was with the single-minded pursuit of dunking my body in a molten concoction of richness that I set about towards the kitchen only to be distracted by a lone plate languishing about in the sink. 

A sink that isn't empty and dry is enough to send me twitching into epileptic convulsions and within moments I had the situation under control, except I forgot the reason I'd actually gone to the kitchen.

hmph, I brewed me some hot coffee and it was while foaming a splash of milk that I realized I was supposed to be making hot chocolate.

gah!

And so I sit and sip and sulk.

Truesday

Hello, there Tuesday.
What tidings do you bring?
Come now, don't be so morose, your petulance isn't unusual.
Is it news you come bearing woes and bad weather?
Rains and biting winds of Siberian aether
Why must I always run out of important vegetables today?
and recall a hundred other things that need buying
when it begins to rain
and my umbrella refuses to open
because it suddenly finds time to stay broken
and my movements hampered by grocery bags
I want to cry but I laugh
hard enough to literally gag
because you're Tuesday, my love
disasters and regrets
stick to you like a glove

dead zzzz

And now I'm dead
As I bid night
and sleep away
In a glacial sarcophagus
only to ignite
tomorrow morning
same old me
Tired wishes
sultry kisses

the thing being

You know how it is..you're thinking, making grand plans for your characters, typing away, having a string of epiphanies, some bonus enlightening ideas, scribbling them into a notebook to remember them during uninspired times, hitting that word count almost where you're almost done for the day. The key word being Almost, because right at that moment a phone call deters your reverie and for an hour you're lost in that call because, well, it's from home, and full of juicy tidbits, funny comments, gossipy updates and magnificent future ideas and lo, it's time to cook dinner and you're still not done with whatever you were writing; your characters are sitting in an autopsy room and you're totally derailed.
Excellent!
What do you do then?
Well, I prepared my dinner and now I'm off to meet someone for a short short while, about 10 minutes if at that and after that a bit of eating and back to writing and finishing off all that's been bubbling because it's gotta go it today for gods sake it does.

win win winter sob

If my house were a warren it'd probably be Omtose Phellack.

I did, rather sagaciously turn on the radiator yesterday and it does a beautiful job keeping the living room toasty warm, and for various reasons of incidental conveniences I keep the radiator in that particular area because it's the living room and something of a heart of the home; like a hive central so to say..but where does it leave the other rooms?

Well, the other rooms are left in a gellid confusion of frosty ambience. 

One could argue that the air conditioner in warm blower setting can be turned on, if matters are that extreme, and there will come a time when this season will lead to that eventuality.. but for now turning on room heaters, as tempting as it is, will in fact be a bit excessive, superfluous even and for those reason alone I'm only toying with the remote control.

The house is a delicious 15ºc and lit rather frugally by incoming sunlight.

In theory, today could be called mildly sunny, if sunlight were sieving itself through a hundred layers of tough fabric then yes, it's sunny today.

Yes, it's the winters. It's a new season, what do you expect?

That's not my gripe, I'm alright with the cold, it's just that I like talking about it and maybe complain a wee bit, I've no issues with the cold; what I do wish to hate on about this weather is Its ability to silently, assuredly murder my herbs.  

Just last week my basil crumpled under the crisp blast of intense cold, and now my Thai basil is turning all sorts of frail.

I have brought my plants inside the house, mounted them on a special structure that keeps them close to the window pane so as to let them eat as much sunlight or whatever excuse for sunlight we get and yes, I've kept them in the living room so that they stay warm, but to no avail.

they're slowly perishing and my heart is breaking.

If this basil dies too then I'm left with a rosemary plant apart from mint and oregano and I've even constructed a makeshift greenhouse in the balcony for them and that's probably my only last hope.

I don't know if I should weep or curse freely or perhaps both?