I can’t think. I can’t write. I can’t work either. You know, you must know, those weeks when people ensure your life turns into a hellish nightmarish experience. Those weeks when you rush home and wish to hide under your bed! When nothing, nothing goes right. From tailors fucking up your kurtas  (five of them in one go!) to vendors fucking up trophies that the Director of the firm has asked for… From proofreading a published document and finding out there are way too many errors to let it pass to writing a page over and over again ’cause no matter what you do, your manager is looking for something ‘different’… etc etc etc… my week has been quite something. I cannot write, rather write about the many things I was planning to write about.

Also, I managed to read something quite horrible. Five-point something. Now, I want to write and publish a book someday and I won’t mind belting out a bestseller. But if this book makes it the top bestseller in India, and gets converted into a movie, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to “match” such “brilliant” writing. I don’t know if I want to. Life is quite a bitch. I am going to go and get drunk now. It’s Morrison’s Anniversary bash or some such. 50% off on alcohol all night. Yay! You guys keep reading and commenting and re-reading :P

Also, something I found heartbreakingly beautiful -

‘The smell of bitter almonds always reminded him of unrequited love…’