Happiness is a Butter Dish

As I happily reported to Dr. S today, I woke up feeling happy. After seven days of almost total anhedonia, I feel like a normal human being ready to do stuff, such as exercise, by an onion and leeks, get shit done (see adventure in Glendale below) and not want to stab myself in the eye. Total figure of speech. Totally. Dr. S, also happily, in his South Indian accent, agreed that I seemed less "bummed out." I was startled by the colloquialism from this elegant, erudite and eloquent man, but I let it slip. Then he quoted in Hindi a yogi, who recommends not wasting your heart on the many, i.e. shallow, meaningless exchanges with lots of acquaintances, but lavishing your love on the few. Like the yellow butter dish from www.anthropologie.com. Alas, the yellow one is already sold out.

Gandhi's Pen

I love fountain pens. And I've always wanted a Montblanc Pen. They've always been too expensive and I forget to request one for my birthday. Now, for the 140th anniversary of the birth of Mahatma Gandhi, Montblanc has released the Mahatma Gandhi Limited Edition 241 pen, which is 18K gold and shows Gandhi on the salt march of July 1930. It costs $23,000. That puts things in perspective again. A lot of things actually.

1. consumering is disgusting and Gandhi would be horrified
2. my wanting of things is the symptom of emptiness
3. if I had that pen I could finish a Pulitzer winning novel

Gandhi himself wrote with pencils, wearing them down to a stub to illustrate that everything should be used to its fullest extent.

Girl, Interrupted

I'm feeling a little unhinged these days, even though Dr. S. is firmly planted back in the cesspool of my life. And even though fall has finally arrived with crisp mountain air and dying leaves. And even though M. couldn’t be any yummier. What's up? I need me some shopping therapy and a big glass of red wine and a day of watching Twin Peaks while eating pie.