I am very proud of myself.

Today I figured out a way to smoke in my apartment. This has been bothering me for a while. When they built this stupid house a hundred years ago they forgot to put in a balcony for me. So either I make my way down to the street and look like a junkie, or I just don't light one.

But the Lord has shown me a way. Swiss kitchens tend to have built-in extractor hoods that lead outside. So I can now place my head over my stove and gently blow out the smoke of my cigarette without worrying about the smell of my Afghani silk cushions (the fabric is too delicate to be febrèzed) on the living room couch.

It does look ridiculous and it's far from fun. But it serves the purpose. And after 13 months of living in this depressing shitwhole I deserve to see a light every now and then.

I kinda like hate my life.

My good looks are fading away. Even the few cute 19 y/o's who have been running after me lately cannot deceive me. This is just fate's way of letting me feel great one last time before giving me the shit of my life.

I used to be quite successful at what I did. People would say stuff like "Wow, you're only 25 and you're already (this and that)". This goes back to being a theatre director and playwright, part-time. I remember being in the car with my lighting guy while he was telling me about a production he wanted to do himself. He said something that bothered me: "And you know, I'd like to work with a young playwright". I was 27 at that time.

My daily work bores the hell out of me. Only the large sums of money some of those companies I'm working for transfer onto my account can sometimes make up for the shit I have to take. Unfortunately those money transfers don't happen that regularly, otherwise I woule have bought myself a cute little house in the South of France or Italy at some point.

I'm not even sure why I'm writing all of this. Probably just to avoid having to think about a campaign for organic farmers (note: not their produce, but actually the farmers themselves).

Help.