Most days, by evening my decrepit body is ready to give away.
But on Fridays, I hit bottom by late afternoon.
It’s just pizza for dinner and endless glasses of Chocolate Soymilk-Gin cocktail (Silk Chocolate Soymilk and Gilbey’s Gin).
Yes, I sip my Chocolate-Gin cocktail with a straw.
You got a problem with that?
And Love in Tokyo is playing on iTunes in the background.
Asha Parekh and Joy Mukherjee have invaded the dark recesses of my mind.
After that it’s gonna be Evening in Paris (Shammi Kapoor, Sharmila Tagore).
I’m already on my third glass of my Chocolate-Gin.
And the night, my dear schmuck, is still young.;)
Now that I’m reasonably high, I have opened my latest purchase – Somerset Maugham’s Teller of Tales, a vast collection of short stories by a rainbow of authors, handpicked by Maugham.
I got the book from the “discard’ shelves of my local library this morning for a mere $2.
The hefty book has certainly seen better days.
But at $2 what a steal!
Over 1,500 pages of Maugham’s favorites representing dozens of authors.
Washington Irving, Ernest Hemingway, Gustauve Flaubert, Guy de Maupassant , Joseph Conrad, F.Scott Fitzgerald, Leo Tolstoy, Maxim Gorky, Saki, O.Henry, Aldous Huxley and so many other literary jewels find a place in the rich collection.
Doubtless, the weathered tome is an embarras de richesse.
I have just started reading The Stout Gentleman by Washington Irving.
You no remembering Washington Irving?
No worrying, I helping you.
Sweetie, Washington Irving is the author of one of the most popular short stories ever written in the English language.
Rip Van Winkle ring a bell?
Yes, I knew it would.
Now, leave this sloshed soul in peace so that SI may finish The Stout Gentleman.