My apartment is cold. Not only is it cold, but when the crazy eastern european woman does laundry at 6 AM, the rest of the building doesn't have hot water. Exhibit this morning: Waking, cold. Shower, cold. Now I'm at work in my office: also, inexplicably cold. Last night I ate some Indonesian peanut stew (recipe found in Waitrose) and wrote a letter to my grandparents. Then I waded through a few chapters of Lost Illusions, with which I am now smitten.
I've decided to make an Xmas cookbook for my friends. Maybe my album will be out by then too. Is it gauche to give your own album to friends for xmas? Probably. Ok, I'll just stick to the cookbook. Luckily, a few of my friends are also putting themselves in self-imposed rehab week/s. So we're all just calling eachother discussing how we're not going out that night. Clever, really. I've been listening to a lot of Bollywood. I think it is in response to 1) I'm so tired of Indie rock 2) Bollywood makes me feel warm, and I'm cold.
I've decided to make an Xmas cookbook for my friends. Maybe my album will be out by then too. Is it gauche to give your own album to friends for xmas? Probably. Ok, I'll just stick to the cookbook. Luckily, a few of my friends are also putting themselves in self-imposed rehab week/s. So we're all just calling eachother discussing how we're not going out that night. Clever, really. I've been listening to a lot of Bollywood. I think it is in response to 1) I'm so tired of Indie rock 2) Bollywood makes me feel warm, and I'm cold.