Eating breakfast and typing shit again. Went out to buy breakfast a while ago. These days, I myself do not do much cooking. Discovered a good small joint not far from here that makes really delicious breakfasts and meals. I just go there and buy and bring food home and eat. Saves my time. Gives me more time to read and write, especially write. I am looking forward to publishing at least two more books this year. One is already published – Red Room Bar – a collection of 50 poems written in and around bars over the course of six years. The paperback version of the same should be made available in 2-3 days. Submitted the manuscript of the same only yesterday night at around 3 A.M. It became a long night. Fell asleep some time after 4. Wake up at 8:30 to the usual morning noises of birds and people and garbage truck. Missed the garbage truck again and now, the garbage will stay here for another week. Shit. SHIT!
What are the odds of this being a simulation – my life and everything happening in it? I think zero. This life is as real as a life can be. Took so much shit today morning, my stomach sank a mile. Had to run out for breakfast at once. Crazy. And the day has barely begun. If I sit down and think about what all happened since the time I woke up, I realize that a lot has already happened. A LOT! Me waking up to the nauseating smell of garbage everywhere in my home, the garbage truck getting missed, me taking so much shit, me running out for breakfast, me thinking about paying all my dues to all the people I owe, me thinking about the paperback version of my book finally going live, me thinking about finishing my book of short stories, me taking out an apple and an orange, instead of a beer, from my fridge and placing them on my table, me checking my earnings so far from my books and realizing there’s a long way to go, me thinking about the Independence Day in America, and how silly the idea of independence day really is. It doesn’t matter what country we talk about, the idea is always so silly.
Got a big stack of books waiting to be read – Murakami, Kafka, Camus, Celine. A lot of writing to be done. Heading to it straightaway. Have a good time.
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