When people ask me, 'What do you do in Montreal?' I usually respond by throwing a few titles around, one of which is 'a writer.'
This is complete bullshit.
You see, there are people who call themselves writers, and there are people who actually wake up every day and write. Hitherto I am the former, but as I tap away at this keyboard I become the latter.
Did I tell you? I'm in Thailand. I've just begun working as an entertainer at a swanky night club.
It's hot. Humid. Tasty. Chaotic.
Did I mention it's impossible to find a fucking good cup of coffee anywhere in this city of 12 million people? It's Sunday morning. I'm off to buy a sequined bra at the market. I'll be scouring the streets for non-instant coffee on the way.
EDIT:
I have mixed feelings about instant coffee. Actually, no I don't. Simply, there is only one person in the world who I deem worthy of making a cup of it, and that is Katharine Ross. Everyone else should hang their head in shame and direct me to the nearest socially conscious, independent version of Starbucks.
