Giovanni occasionally goes for Yoga. Tonight, I went with him. Mainly because he claimed that last time, it was only two men and some 20 women.
He overdid it a bit, with four guys and some 8 women, but I still felt like Mel Gibson in ‘What Women Want’. However, Julia, the ‘instructor’, easily was worth it; a petite Bulgarian girl with a sweet accent and so flexible, whole tribes of Chinese snakemen would feel ashamed.
Although Julia made my day, today was actually a very sad day. Hunter S. Thompson killed himself. The bastard.
Thompson is the author of ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’, possibly the best novel ever, written on drugs. Not about drugs, but while ON drugs.
Thompson is also considered to be the inventor of ‘Gonzo journalism‘. Look it up. And this is a much bigger thing than you might think. Why? Because blogging almost always is a form of Gonzo journalism. In other words: Thompson was the proto-blogger and you’re not worthy.
And I made it, once more, to a newspaper. This time, it was the ‘Delftse Post’. Not really an achievement, since the first time I made it to that paper was when I was 8, or so. Still, with a circulation of 90.000, it could be worse.