Must be someone else. Must be someone else. Must be,/Any day now hows about getting out of this place? Anyways./Got a lot of spare time. Some of my youth and all of my senses on overdrive.
So now that my friends, acquaintances and strangers alike think I spend all of my spare time with one hand down my pants (or up my skirt, as it were), what the hell do I write about going forward? Part two of my self-healing odyssey has proven much more difficult to write for myriad reasons and, to be perfectly, shamefully honest, I haven't done much else in my down time other than hang out in the chatrooms; thus, not much other material to draw upon.
There's work, of course. Same shit, different day. Although after a rather unpleasant meeting, it turns out I give the constant impression of being angry and unhappy. Or at least that's what my focus-on-the-negative boss thinks. Maybe it's because when she's around I'm not trading stories with co-workers about our sexual adventures and exploits. Or laughing or having a good time or macking on cute customers. I'm way too old for this bullshit, but I'll play a little longer, at least. Who am I kidding? I'm way too lazy to do anything else right now. Sigh.
My creative energy is still flagging. I had a new idea, bought some supplies and tried it out with one somewhat satisfactory result. Then I put it all aside and haven't touched it since. Maybe today. I desperately need some inspiration and I have the day off. My fingers are crossed.
The best thing I cooked recently was Madhur Jaffrey's aloo gobi. A bit of a pain in the ass, but well worth the results. Apparently aloo gobi is the only Indian dish I can eat without becoming
nauseous, so good thing it's the one Indian dish I know how to make.
And now, back to work on the blog entry you really want to read.