For the perfect idler it becomes an immense source of enjoyment to establish his dwelling in the throng, in the ebb and flow, the bustle,the fleeting and the infinite.To be away from home and yet to feel at home anywhere; to see the world and yet to be unseen of the world, such are some of the minor pleasures of those independent and impartial spirits,who do not lend themselves easily to linguistic definitions. The observer is a prince enjoying his incognito wherever he goes. -Charles Baudelaire
I’m not that in love with myself anymore. In fact, I’m a little bit turned off. Jesus, was I dramatic or what? And whiny. And too theatrical!
Remind me again why I decided to write for a living? Love is blind indeed.
The only thing I enjoyed reading was my attempt at gonzo journalism when I covered Toby and Arbee’s clash with the badminton titans.
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