delectatio morosa

Money can't buy you love, but it improves your bargaining position - C. Marlowe

That cracked me up. Witty and cynical. And true to a certain extent. Having a nice Merc or Jag won't exactly jeopardise one's chances of getting hooked. Or fancy dinners in chi-chi places. And whatever money can't buy, Visa or Mastercard can. So yeah, money is more or less everything. At this moment, nothing can be much sweeter than seeing five figures in my banking account. See, I'm not greedy, I'm not asking for six digits. Not every month, at least. Just something in the region of 20k and I'll be doing a jig every day. Seriously.

On another page, I must admit I'm not very good at writing. When writing cock (as in talking cock), the words and sentences flow like a merry country stream, gentle and smooth. The moment someone tells me to write something in particular, or even commends me on my piece, I get all askew. The weight of expectation leads to the burden of pressure. Ok, enough of showboating. But yeah, I'm always caught between two minds when it comes to writing. Praise is good, but with praise comes expectations. Somehow I feel I'll never be able to produce a subsequent piece worthy of the original. Oh, the imbroglio...

I can see a wee tiny bit of improvement in my mass of flesh after hitting the gym thus far. I don't think it noticeable physically, but I can feel the slight looseness around my waist when I don my pants. Or it could be that my pants have expanded. The glass is half full, the glass is half full. I reckon, three times a week for the next three months and there definitely will be tangible results. Just have to break the bi-weekly cycle I'm currently on. Next week, next week, definitely. Right.

A seed has been planted in my head - writing a memoir of my misadventures during my heydays (i.e ages 17 to 30). I'm giving it serious thought, though I reckon I'll wait till I'm 37. I've already contrived a title for it: Life, 17 going on 37. I'd like to think it sounds catchy. The whole idea came about when I was busy regalling an appreciative audience with my misdemeanours during my hedonistic era. Yes, it was an era, an epoch of sorts. A coming out ball which lasted nearly five years. Food for thought, as I munch on a cardboard-tasting hi fibre low salt Jacob's cracker. Yes, definitely worth several cells from my grey matter.

I'll end this post with another satirical quote from a well known author. Up to today, I haven't an inkling why his noteworthy literature piece, The Long Day Wanes, is banned here. I do know I have it, and it's quite a read.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Snore, and you sleep alone - A. Burgess

Here's to the nadir of the working week.