Rainy days don't bode well for being out in an open yard...
I hence spent sometime in the afternoon just responding to e-mails and hoping that at least one would inch closer to a final conclusion, another blow to the final nail.

Back in the hotel, restlessness got the best of me (plus this insatiable craving for a good cup of coffee, books and cookies). Changed, upped and dashed across the street to Paragon for a quick walkabout hoping that

a. Window shopping would get some things off the back of my mind
b. COffee

Alas, it just felt awkward being back in Singapore and without any familiar company. I figured in cityscape it's taboo not to have anyone else with you when one sits down for coffee... Damn it, wished the ipod wasn't left in the safe (read: ipod= social distraction). Even trips to my favourite shops turned into 2 second walkabouts...

Back out on the street to the "do-or-die" location where anxietys would lay down for a moment, to a big bookstore... with a coffee joint (very populist, very cliched... but hang that!). Lest I spent 2 hours roaming around, an hour sat at the arts and design section (for photos of course). The texture of a book spine sending tingles down mine, the feel of textured paper and fabric all mixed into one... not nirvana, but its comforting... silky feel of ivory paper as the finger scrolls down each and every section and print ink rises creating a lattice of sensation.

Then, there was this empowering aroma (read, coffee...caffeine *gasp* *eyes lit up*) and I strolled to the magazine section thinking what I should get lest I sit down all by myself in a coffee place.

Brain chatter ensues...

It can't be geeky
It can't be nerdy
It can't be pretentious
It can't be tetosterone charged overcompensating...


I settled on the New Yorker and threw "It can't be" #3 out... only when picking one up, the lovely price tag of 15 dollars led me to nonchalantly flipping through it (as cover) and sliding it back up on the shelf... sigh... nevermind... deep breath, I'm sure they'll have something to read at the coffee bar...

Now, walked up confidently "Its just me today (read: I'm desperately trying to fit in)"

"Btw, would you have any cookies..."

"I'll have the Ethiopian (I do like the Ethiopian coffee... introduced a while ago as a hi-bye but reacquainted earlier this year)"

More brain chatter

They've put me in a corner, bloody cliched... (trying to think brave)
Lets see what they have...


This is the point where all form of equality ends...
Magazines for women: Count, 6 different magazines
Magazines for men/women: 1 (it had to be a business magazine)
Glossy Males: None

21st century my ass...

Regardless, one had to get over that as the coffee was on its way and there were cookies to munch on. Had a brief chat with the waitress climaxing at the point I asked for the bill... Guess all was fine in Lalaland, bag of cookies at hand and a little less edgy by the coffee...

More than a year I've been travelling here... I still don't know if I'd like it but I sure know that my measly paycheck won't cut it... But its back to the room, with time to spare before one ventures out once again in search of a meal.

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