* In a day bagged with bad weather, appalling conversations with myself, and a rotten soul, I habitually enslaved myself with a panorama view of peculiarly depressing memories.  Sacrosanct aroma of organic coffee was tainted and sumptuous texture of dark chocolate fouled, making me feel like an archangel of no tomorrow.  In a day like this, it felt like a therapeutic measure to get myself occupied with generative codes and procedures.  A colossus glass of strawberry milkshake should also help.