Sigh.

I wish you could take walls off and put them on the floor. Rooted, vertical surfaces are difficult to manipulate. And its difficult to shade a smooth surface. Atleast, I'm not used to it. In any case. My head has been aching all day and its getting worse. What I need is coffee and a nice book to read. Or a sitcom. But I'm done with That 70's, and my sister's still on the other Murakami. I think I could make music today. 

If only I had my guitar.  
What do you do when 4 hours of work burn you out and make your head feel like an earful of cotton? Its a feeling I'd welcome at the end of each day if only I had something to show for it. Tomorrow I'll paint all day. Though that was supposed to be the agenda for today. 
If I was in a Murakami novel I'd be downing a whiskey right now and playing old jazz records in my bachelor pad. But that's as far as pretend-places go. Put me in a bachelor pad without a bachelor and come nightfall, I'll be scared shitless. 
Sometimes, when you step out of your skin and walk a while and turn around to get a good look at yourself, you end up feeling pretty pathetic about it all. The Trick is to save the exercise for a day when you feel fucking awesome. 
And that, dear Zonk, was my tip to you, for life, straight from page 72 of a self help book I'm in the process of writing, titled How To Trick The Universe Into Making You Feel Fucking Awesome. 
Buy buy. 

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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