...Part 3...
When he leaves for some errands you turn on the television and channelsurf. You flip so fast that the words get cut into small hiccoughs, soon you don`t even register the pictures that fly by. You only see the snow on the screen between the channels. Soon you have a smoke and drink some lukewarm coffee. Your bored.

After a while you switch off the television. Pick up your beg and fill it with the necessary things. When you have finished your little packing, you go take a peek at your own reflection again just to be sure you look the same as earlier. Your zit is very red. But not to awful.

The clouds are still very heavy and the June drops of rain are clinging to the flowers in the gardens, to the grass and the leaves on the trees.
The pavement is still wet and your sneakers make little "splashes" as they move across the ground. The legs move swiftly to the tram station where you hop on a blue train that leads you to the center of town.

You think it seems meaningless what you are doing. And you are right it is meaningless. You get off at the next stop and walk by a cafe, you buy an ice mocha coffee and sit down in the park. You lay down in the grass using your jacket as a mat. Looking at the branches sway has always been an affectionate affair for you. Soon you doze off listening to the leaves whisper.

.....Part 2....
We sit down and eat breakfast together. The mood is silent and slightly stale. You poor a cup of coffee and listen to the rain that is now poring down. You can hear it land, small masses being demolished to the ground. The coffee burns your tongue, in fear of spitting it out you swish it around inside your mouth a little while and hope that your tastebuds will recover by lunchtime.

His hair is wet, it reminds you of how you should´ve hit the showers yourself and freshen up. As he hunches over his plate a sudden warmth fills you to the brim of your soul. How you love this specimen sitting in front of you. The silence is not awkward it´s more soothing. The kitchen is creamy white and last nights dishes are mounted in the sink. You hope he will wash them. You can´t stand doing the dishes.
He asks you what you want to do today. You honestly don´t know. Neither does he. He reaches out his hand and strokes your face. You return the gesture.

When you finish your coffee and glass of water you go to the washroom and inspect your own face. Your skin is greasy from the pollution that has collected itself around your nostrils and in the grove beneath your lower lip. You pop a zit and regret, that's gonna scar. It´s bleeding. Oh well.
You ditch washing your face and lay a new layer of powder, mascara and eyeliner. Tomorrow you think, tomorrow I will take a shower.

He ruffles his hair and rolls on the deo thick. You look down at his socks and tell him that you have been wearing them for a week. He looks up and smiles back, "maybe it´s time to do the laundry".

SMOKERS.
I smoke, you smoke, all my friends smoke.
It`s superdangerous. It kills you. You might have to amputate your legs for that roll of paper filled with dried and toasted leaves. And,
we do it anyway.

I talked to my mama about quitting. Well we both have talked about quitting. About the habit of smoking. When, where and why do you so desperately need that cancerstick?
After a meal, with your coffee, before you go to bed, in the morning etc. Especially throughout the little breaks during the day (you may need a break when you feel stuck with making a decision).
When else is it necessary? When you are upset.
Ah, lets link these to factors together. Sometimes making a decision can be upsetting.
Who makes lots of decisions?
Businessmen. Oh, yeah. They smoke so much!
In other words businessmen are of the troubled type.
Economy-men. Who think money, money, money......must be...funny..nah nah nana naaaaa
They make a lot of bad decisions, that have consequences for a lot of people. Whom they don`t even know. They trie to justify there wrong-doing in the following way: Life is unfair, get use to it you impoverished children in the third world. Or, it`s better that I can make jobs that pay less than, no jobs at all.

Oh, I have no idea how they justify they're business.
The point is that they can`t. They can`t justify it, and the proof is smoking.
They drink and smoke a lot. Suddenly they have to face their bad consciousness, the gnawing feeling inside that makes you a little restless? And then suddenly the urge hits in.
Must have cigarette. They go smoke and the gnawing feeling turns into a much smaller one of the sort " God I smoke to much. I really should quit. But hey it`s my body!" And Voilá! The real problem has morphed into a new one, a bad state of health.

Or it could be they just think their job is a snore and use smoking as an excuse to stretch their legs.

Think about tomorrow to get the day to pass.
How do you learn to enjoy your day?
I guess by doing productive things. Not productive in the way :
1. Remember to finish project x by tomorrow.
2. Finish reading the book you started! ( just for the sake of finishing )
3. Walk the dog.
4. Visit your ancient/old family member to stay in touch ( because that is the right thing to do ).
5. Call an old friend.
6. Etc,etc.
But by doing things that make you happy.

How does that happen? I mean does this sort of bliss even exist?
Somebody must have found a way to make this work without giving up all there money to a Jehovah-group or by following the way of
Buddha.
It feels like throwing away precious time out the window when I look forward to tomorrow or in two weeks or to this fall. ¨
Currently I am looking forward to Friday because then I am going to visit a theatre to help out in a production as an assistant or actually below the assistant. Because they already have one.
So how much fun is that? It beats answering phonecalls all day.
But the worst is that I am also looking forward to drinking a bottle of wine. Not that I am invited to a party or a dinner or any kind of lovely social festivity. A chance is that someone might call and make plans with me. But the probability is minimal.

When I finish this job I am going to sunbathe. While I am doing that I will look forward to having the perfect tan. And not only that when this job is over for the summer my boy is coming to town. To live. I am looking forward to that, yes indeed.

So when I reach the moment. Will it be as much fun as I pictured it? Is this way of thinking disastrous, unhealthy, distorted and abnormal? Is it glutinous and an immobilization of the creative mind? It can`t be!

But what about this moment? Was this a moment I was looking forward to? To look forward to looking forward?
Or, is it the same type of looking forward as before?

Maybe I am starting from the wrong end of the equation. Maybe this is the good type of productivity that leads to bliss, happiness and tranquility to body, mind and soul.
In that case....Could it be?
That just maybe...
I...Amam...Happypy?
No, it can`t be. Nobody`s ever happy.

I come to work and try to get the hours to pass. At lunch I am all relieved that there is only 5 hours left before I can leave this place. Then I get to Two`o clock and think well I have got 2 hours left. And now I have 15 minutes.

The slowest minutes in the universe.
I recall going to school, dragging my feet to the tram stop thinking. It`s only for 8 hours. Just bring a book or some markers.
It was torture just like being cooped up here is.

Some of the men here wear suits and have fake tans, they do there work. The others are more relaxed I guess, and take there time.
The last group gives me more work as the receptionist I am, but who cares.

My head feels swollen and inflamed.

....
The sudden noise from an alarmclock made an arm fling out beneath the covers of the bed and land heavily on top of the clock. The ringing subsided and a mass beneath the covers started to groan and move. To feet stretched out and revealed themselves. Outside the clouds hang heavy, as heavy as the morning hand.
The weather is cold and moist. Even though it is the end of June. If one takes a step outside and looks through the bedroom window of the awaking person, you will see white curtains and white walls. Maybe you can see a small photograph hanging on the wall.
As the person rises from the bed you can hear the dense clouds over your head rumble softly. As if they too are awakening from a long nights rest. Some drops of rain accidentally land on your forehead. But you can still watch the person from the outside window. This person is a young man. He scratches his belly and yawns forever. He has semi long greasy and bushy and he is wearing light blue flannel pajamas....
Who are you? His lover. You are on your way back from the store, you bought some breakfast. It`s always like that. You become so bored listening to him breathe every morning that you go and buy breakfast for the two of you. And when you come back you might as well make breakfast too, because he is in the shower....