This is a picture of pure pleasure, otherwise known as gulab jamun. And it's in my house right now.
I must say, I enjoy a certain amount or manner of complaining. You know this if you've read more than one post here...I'd say it's roughly 43% complaint-oriented. And when I say I enjoy a certain manner of complaining, I mean please do it briefly and wittily. Or do it protractedly with an acute sense of the longer comedic arc. I guess make it entertaining is what I'm saying.
One kind of complaint I very rarely enjoy, however, is complaining about the weather. Especially if you live somewhere, like Amsterdam, where the weather is often somewhere between "tolerable" and "shitty". If you live in Miami Beach and it rains for two weeks in May, yes, that is worth mentioning. If you live here and it's 47F and windy in June, well...it's northern fucking Europe. Welcome.
Yes I realize that I'm complaining right now, possibly hypocritically. I also realize that strictly speaking we are in Western Europe. Whatever. This whole area of discussion was initiated by me reading a poem on a post on a blog that I'm not sure I'm supposed to be talking about, so I won't talk about it until I receive permission to do so. Until then, I just post the poem.
THROUGH winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
And after that there's nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come -
Nor know that what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.
W.B. Yeats - The Wheel
Movie(s) of the Day: Jaws (first half great and funny, nice tense lull in the middle, final half-hour really tedious and depressing, I was rooting for the shark); The Happening (on TV, first 5 minutes were arresting, but from that point on it would've been miles better if no one uttered a word...horrible, unbelievable writing, too terrible even for me to watch).