… tszzz… tszzz…

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Bored . bOred . boRed . borEd . boreD .
Seriously brain drained from doing absolutely not{-a-t}hing. And ZERO drama on the family front. What a boring way to usher in the lunar year, but I suppose the year being a rabbit, one shouldn’t expect much.

Amazing that this can actually happen. To me at least. Drama follows me where ever I go.
Unorthodox things / people / incidences / animals just gets lured into my invisible magnetic aura.
So this is a real change.
That. As well as boredom … absolutely not{-a-t}hing.ness
Makes me wonder what happens to people marooned on an island.

I’ve got a stack of books though…

The Witch of Portobello
by Paulo Coelho
I don’t gettit. Read about four-fifth through – after a lot of repeated pep talk happening in my mind, I finally gave up. I mean, what’s the deal? I don’t even seem to like this Athea woman. But I know the point is not about Athea but the philosophies being delivered via this Athea character created by Paulo.
I suppose the problem is this Athea character just makes my skin crawl. Well, for one she’s a woman. A demanding, attention deprived one to top it off – and yeah, well, you know thoughts about those types and I shan’t be repeating it here for risk of sounding like a broken record playing again and again.
or
maybe like Gabriel Garcia Marquez I like my women subdued and asleep as were the case with … 
Memories of My Melancholy Whores 
by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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OK. It’s not as provocative as the title or cover suggest, and its an easy read – surprisingly for sir G.G.M. And again, no, I don’t have an obsession with G.G.M and please do not use this literary genius to hit on me {read HERE}

There’s nothing evocative and sensual about this book at all. If anything its an insightful and rich retrospection of a lonely, foul hardly elderly man on life. His life in particular with the masterfully interwoven beauty of innocence and undulated love. 

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Elegantly written, this G.G.M was well worth the 2 out of my usual 6 hours 20-plus minutes of sleep I gave up to finish it. 
And whilst this blog entry has definitely been sitting idle as “draft” and I’m resuming it at this point, I have since gained a new insight which may be too bold to pen down even if its littered with riddles. Suffice to say the personality that had evoke my acute memories of this G.G.M genius had prompted me to double click the “draft” and finish off this blog after contemplating if I should mail the book over; a strange habit I have been picking up over the last 18 months or so … perhaps a mirror effect that transposed itself onto me after the legendary procurement and arrival of Khushwant Singh’s Train to Pakistan book {read HERE} by an almost utter stranger (back then).
Speaking of strange habits, I bought a copy of
London 
by Fred Dust and IDEO
after I had shipped my original copy over. It’s nothing more than a funky, artsy, architect-meets-graphic designer-meets-photographer-meets-copywriter book. In short a environmental freely recycled paper  wannabe looking coffee table book.

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Other books that remains on my armoire waiting to be devoured in bed {with some partially read at the moment} are:
Breathless in Bombay by Murzban F Shroff
The Conde Nast Traveller Book of Unforgettable Journey by Editor, Klara Glowczewska
Mao Zedong by Jonathan Spence
Notes from A Small Island by Bill Bryson
{I’ve a copy that I’ve read and threw in some dustbin that once existed in tubes stations in London; i.e. the years that fell between post-IRA and pre-Al Qaeeda}
Defining Moments in History by Sterling Publisher

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– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

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These should last me the days I lie prone on my back, post elective surgery.
{gulp} how fast time flies … it’s now only a matter of (frightening) weeks!
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