Impressionist

I had my first cigar the other day, supposedly it's cuban. Tasted like dark chocolate, 80% bitter, 20% sweert.

Starbucks used to sell those small chocolate chunk cookies. They are insanely delicious. Yesterday while I was wandering aimlessly in the city, I popped into every starbucks store I saw just to check if they have them. Apparently no store has them. They still sell the bigger ones, but they don't taste as good.

I am having this really foul mood since yesterday. It could be the work meeting that got canceled which I didn't know till I got to the city after 45 minutes of unpleasant subway ride.

Several years ago I started to dream about a house on the beach, crispy white french windows, a white canopy bed and a smiling face I wake up everyday to. The dream is slowly fading and instead a new dream is starting to take a shape. I see myself with a backpack, traveling... I wonder, if I had a shrink, what would he/she say. A friend said I am trying to escape the reality, which consists of a freakishly boring and tedious job, a hobby I am beginning to loath, and a lack of male companionship.

For the past couple of months I've read an irish folktale book, a book called "lemon" by a canadian writer and "Turcaret", a play by Lesage. None of them made any contribution of lifting my mood which i was hoping for. You would not imagine the amounts of killing and blood-shedding in a fairytale book. Lemon is a story about this suicidal teenage girl who sees her world plagued by violence, mindless sex, cancer, ecological disasters.

My butt is hurting from sitting too long on the hard floor.

To be continued.....