Poirot

I don't know how it came to be, but I found myself strangely drawn to Hercule Poirot tv series.

It's rather enjoyable if you're into this sort of thing. Well, I know I am. It's good vintage stuff. Probably from the early 90's and hasn't lost any of its charm.

Day today

An utterly futile day, filled with unproductive woes.

Each activity suspended in an unsure bubble of hope. Solace is just a few eternities away (wishful thinking)

The weather doesn't help. A tropical rainforest would be far more pleasant. The temperature's not even 30°C, but the humidity is desperately high. Feels like I'm wading through a pond, each time I step out of the house against my better judgement.
Clothes glue themselves to limbs,  hair stays matted like a sorry mesh of tattered net, and sweat begins beading every segment of your just showered and perfumed skin just moments after you've dressed yourself.
Not a drop of air to comfort. Clammy humidity, to the point of suffocation.
I've made best friends with my dehumidifier.

It's come to a point when you'd take off your shoes and see your face melted right into your socks.

Right, time to immerse in unfinished projects at me casa.

Finished 'In cold blood' last night, and picking up another book next.
Soon..

/\

If I could, I'd rip this galaxy a new constellation..I am however content threading stars into a mesh of gauzy imagination.

GrrrRant

I want to write a poem, a story and continue on with writing new chapters of a book that's got much too intertwined with craziness.

My mind, however, feels blank these days. Seems like it's hibernating or gone into a hermetic trance. 

Like I've given myself up too wholeheartedly to the glorious mundane, to the point that it has permeated my veins and now throbs with my heart in unison. 

Has gotta be a way around it. Just been so ferociously displeased, erratically moody and irritated. 

There are too many reasons, truth be told. 

In fact there's one headlining reason, the others are just minor bullet points. 

Ugh. Also, life's getting in the way of alter cosmos; spending time alone with my thoughts fertilized my farms of fantasy, but all I've got now is a cotton-mouth island of insipid inspirations.

Perhaps I could alliterate myself out of this. 

Not likely though. 

Is it because I'm seriously not sitting down to finish what I'd started? Because I've got too many things knocking about in my mind that make me so restless all the time? 

Perhaps I should begin by scratching out pending elements on my to do list, that can be easily accomplished. 

Like my food blog. All the shifting and the traveling has put updating it on a hold, I feel guilty just thinking about it. 

I'd resolved to update it every Wednesday and that's perhaps what I should do. Beginning this Wednesday. 

So on and so forth, I guess. 

Dipping your fingers in too many sauces and unable to discern the taste of even a single one.

Thankfully I'm not a lazy fuck, though god knows I've tried being one. If only I'd been lazy, my life would've been so much easier. Nothing to bother about, low on priorities, procrastinating like a baus, unconcerned, impervious to reality, blasé, callous and happy. 

Underlying reasons are many, chief among them is the fact that I'm disinclined to be content, that my expectations from life are dizzying, that I'm greedy and want to hog each dollop of every fragment of all the dimensions in existence, and, mon ami, it can get exhausting, exasperating; to the point of writing a rant. 

To do

Terribly slow progress, terrible! 

The book 'in cold blood' is almost finished, and this drawing is still chugging along on speed bumps. 

Writing has taken a backseat and that's nagging me to the point that I've been losing sleep.

God there's so much to finish, innumerable things on their way to completion, some stuck in limbo, some forgotten, some an arm's length away. 

Gotta create a systematic matrix of things left to do. Honestly though, I can count them on my fingers, projects that need completion. 

It's all at the back of my head, knocking loud; low decibel reminders that've now mutated into a cacophonous reproach. 

Three tier Eden

My happy place. Over the years it's varied a lot and never been exactly as I'd want it to be, but a bit of tinkering here and there makes it almost satisfactory. 

I'd have loved for it to be bigger and longer with multiple plug points et al, but you make do with whatever tools you got. 

I'm going to work a bit more on the wiring part, cuz the floor under my study table looks like I'm about to launch a space shuttle. It's so bloody intricately wired. But what do you expect? I'm just a girl, not an electrician..though I do put on the airs of one. Hah! 

sarcasm

" I would bow, but I hurt myself getting out of bed"

- there is nothing better than San Dan Glokta's scathing sarcasm in 'The first law book' series.

You'd have to be truly bitter and witty to come up with such sharp pieces of sulphurous sarcasm.
It's the funnest way of mocking someone..varying from sweetly acerbic to brutally belittling. Sigh.