I don’t feel like writing today. I was quite content savouring a stupidly expensive bottle of 30-year-old single malt while I watched the third season of Californication, but I kept thinking that I should write something. Is there such a thing at writer’s guilt? If so, I’m sure that there’s a medically prescribed cocktail of chemicals to combat it. To render it a foggy, distant memory. The kind that feels like a deluded creation of your subconscious, but whose reality is verified by the plethora of receipts, cash and phone numbers in your pocket. Lamentably, I don’t have a prescription for the aforementioned, so for once, I’ve decided to heed my own advice in order to appease the writing deities and stave off writer’s guilt for another twenty-four hours.
During the week, I suggested to someone who was endeavouring to write more frequently and creatively that they should list five things that they could touch from where they were sitting to write, and then concoct a synopsis for each of the items. My rationale was that a great writer needs to have the ability to engage their audience with even the most mundane of subjects, so, by carrying out my challenge, one would have to think outside the box in order to make the commonplace interesting. See, I sporadically have lucid moments in which I can offer sound advice. Just call me Professor Keane. I figured that making my own list of five things was not only a good way to make Thalia happy, wherever the single sock-wearing bitch is, but that is was coincidentally an easy way to come up with a TDoT post without thinking too hard.
1. My laptop
If you want to get technical, it’s an Acer Aspire 5735. Truth be told, I’m actually in the market for a new laptop: this one has a serious problem with the left mouse button, and it’s starting to shit me to the point where it may take a flight off my sixth floor balcony in the very near future. I’m not sure what has caused the problem, and several of my friends have offered their own theories as to why the button is sticking, but I’m pretty confident that as with many of my previous computers, the issue is closely related to my predilection for spilling beer, Scotch and myriad of other liquids on it.
The most interesting fact about this laptop is that I got it through a salary sacrificing arrangement when I was working at a bank. I resigned shortly after the second fortnightly payment was made, and waited for the call saying that they wanted it back. The call never came, and I scored a brand new laptop for a little over $48. Bargain.
Four dollars and forty-five cents. That’s Australian currency, which equates to a little under NZ$6, and about fifteen-hundred Zimbabwean dollars. Whoever said that hyperinflation would never make me feel better about myself?
I’m drinking remnants of a bottle of Glenfarclas I picked up about twelve months ago. As I alluded to in the first line of this post, it’s a 30-year-old single malt, and cost a lot more than a bottle of Scotch that’s being used to aid a Sunday afternoon writing session should. I could dribble on about how it tastes, but I’ve always found narratives about the nose, flavour and finish of a beverage to sound somewhat pretentious. Besides, I can’t taste the cognac, brandy, nuts, and marzipan that the good people at the Glenfarclas distillery tell me that any self-respecting single malt aficionado should be able to.
What I am sure of however, is that I added a dash of water and three ice cubes. Before the purists out there start sending me hate mail, I’ve always been an advocate of drinking something how you like to drink it. That said, feel free to drop me a line and explain why I’m not experiencing the ”real taste of burnt chocolate” at the back of my mouth.
My poorly prepared glass of Scotch rests on a coaster that I made at the office one day, as a result of boredom and wanting to test a new label maker. Its creation probably falls under the category of an irresponsible use of company resources.
4. The third season of Californication
For all its sex, language and depravity, the characters really are well written and have been developed strongly over the initial two seasons. Whether that continues in this season and the fourth begs to be seen – I’m just getting onto the second disc, and it seems that Hank, while still a drunken, drug dabbling womaniser, is starting to mellow (much like my Scotch as the ice begins to melt) and display a somewhat deeper, more philosophical side to himself.
While it’s not relevant, I’d like to admit that I may have developed a small crush on Diane Farr, who plays Hank’s TA.
5. My BlackBerry Bold 9700
When I bought it, it was the only white one that I’d seen in my travels, which I figured made it unique, and as such, desirable. When the gangly and seemingly bored sales assistant offered that “guys don’t normally buy the white one”, I decided that I had to have it, just to spite him.
My Christmas wish? For BlackBerry to make me a one of a kind in purple and lime.