I found myself reading "Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia" last night for God's sake. I can sort of understand how I got there from the "idiot-participatory" martial arts genre via "Yoga School Drop Out", but it still came as something of a shock.
Luckily perhaps, there was a daft assertion about numerology early in the book that woke me from my reverie. [The individual digits of any factor of nine - in turn a factor of three - will always add up to nine or to a factor of nine, for the simple reason that we are recording them in a base ten system Ms Gilbert.]
I tried watching Factotum (a darkly comic adaptation of Charles Bukowski's semi-autobiographical novel about a writer trying to avoid distractions such as his personal peccadilloes of women, gambling and alcohol) to regain some perspective, then set my chest hair on fire "to see what would happen" but I fear it is only a temporary reprieve.
Luckily perhaps, there was a daft assertion about numerology early in the book that woke me from my reverie. [The individual digits of any factor of nine - in turn a factor of three - will always add up to nine or to a factor of nine, for the simple reason that we are recording them in a base ten system Ms Gilbert.]
I tried watching Factotum (a darkly comic adaptation of Charles Bukowski's semi-autobiographical novel about a writer trying to avoid distractions such as his personal peccadilloes of women, gambling and alcohol) to regain some perspective, then set my chest hair on fire "to see what would happen" but I fear it is only a temporary reprieve.
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