As I said in the morning, love is magic, at times at least. A cheerful meeting, few moments of laughter 'together', some harmless flirting, that's more than enough to change the whole way you have been looking at life, the whole way you have been living life. I didn't feel like smoking. That killer smile, those killer eyes... gosh!...they drive me crazy. I just don't even feel like smoking. I feel like, well, dancing, singing and smiling, all in front of the mirror (oh yeah, I hate the sight of myself when I'm "off"). Oh, and yeah, I feel energetic. Love is a form of energy, Paulo Coelho repeats that in almost all his books. Anyway, I ought to harness this energy now and do my work (Coelho's language again!). I ought to study.
Tomorrow holds bleak prospects again. That Shochi Mashi's daughter needs to be taken to the hospital. She's a real headache. Not because her daughter is sick; but because her priorities are muddled up. I told her to leave early in the morning with me, so that I'm free by 8:30am. She said in the most obstinate possible tone, that she can't leave before 9am at least! This is how she loves her daughter, this is her sense of duty, the one she boasts about too frequently.
So, that means, I won't be free before 10:30am at least, that is if she doesn't come up with more excuses. Anyway, since I haven't got any classes after 11am tomorrow, and, I can't afford to watch a movie at an late-morning or afternoon show, I don't see any point in staying outdoors, doing nothing. Time is too precious when exams are ahead. And since money is precious too, now, I dunno if I can afford to travel much, to and fro, so, I may not get to see my 'mood-elevator' at all tomorrow. Anyway, I'll try and be patient in tonight's phone call, and sort things out, (with and within myself, of course), and try to ensure that I stay in a good mood for long enough (till tomorrow afternoon, at the least!)
I don't want a life like Basquiat's. I want a death like Basquiat's.