I dont know how to do lots of things. There has always been heavy doubt in me. Its been my defining role in life. “I just dont know.”
Since returning from India, the act of leaving, going away and doing something –anything– the dont know seems less prevalent then it once was. Manifesting what I want seems a nudge easier then it was, but I still dont exactly know what I’m doing, and there is something in me that says now, that something will work out. Thats never before, been the light at the end of the tunnel for me. Theres always been this horrible sense of doubt and disbelief, where it comes from I cant exactly say, probably somewhere in my upbringing and whatever negative experiences that I accrued along the way and never learned from.
Where to start.
I dont know. I have so many things to say, people to talk to, to fill in the gaps of information on the things that Ive been doing and so on etc. Its great to be back and I feel a sense of simplicity, and a sense of having some handle on the future like I haven not had in such a long time, and those past sentiments are something I done even remember to be honest. I’m happy not remember it either, but somewhere in there Id like to know what to watch out for so that I can try and avoid it in the future too. I dont know if Ill necessarily ever actually get back to that same point again, but approaching it scares me. Jenny is positive, extremely so, especially considering all that she has gone through. It amazes me her integrity despite her own convictions that she has been really struggling, because from where I’m standing she is the strongest person I think Ive ever seen.
Bombay, not Mumbai. I prefer it, and the Bombers themselves call it Bombay anyway.
Its as hot as Goa was, but the humidity levels are off the charts. What I thought was humid in Goa was just for starters. Here its totally and completely insane. It takes 20 minutes to sweat out a liter of water. I go nowhere without a 2L bottle of Bisleri. Bisleri is the nice brand of water in India. Its an Indian company started by a French couple who came here some time ago and scoffed at the lack of good clean drinking water in bottles. Since then of course, there are others. Bailey, which is harder to find, but equally as good and the same price. 1L bottles are about 15 rupees, 2L bottles are 25 rupees, depending of course if you ask the price, because most street vendors will try and hoodwink you and make you pay more even thought he price is moderately unclearly marked on the bottles themselves. The Batch Number, date and Price “(inclusive of all taxes)”. But I still like to ask because I like to see the honesty levels of the vendors. Most outside of Goa and so far Bombay, are not honest and some, even when you show them the price will argue the price with you. Old school values; haggle. Theres no haggling in America. We are soft now, lazy, the price is the price. I still like to ask for a deal when I have to go to the Apple store just to fuck with the doe-eyed whizz-kid clerks. Who cares if Steve Jobs had $750,000,000,000 in the bank before he stepped out, he shouldn’t have had that much money anyway, he should have by virtue of the fact that he travelled India himself, known that that money would have been better off in the hands of those who know what to do with it to make their days a little brighter. Like those tribal families out there on the street in front of the hostel Im currently in. They are rolling with the rats, and their children are playing cricket and badminton amongst the traffic “OUT”! I saw that, that was out! Ballard market, haha what a fucking Joke, ‘fixed prices’ total and complete bullshit.
Oh look at that Im sweating as I’m shitting here in relative comfort of porcelain three floors above you, and the little brown children with blue string around their waists are dropping their payloads into cracks in the pavement. Their shit is cleaner then yours though -and you fucking better believe it.
2013.01.30 INDIA In transit.
Ah, necessity: the mother of invention: I’m on a train going from Bhopal to Garabja in Goa. The journey has now become my destination. The train I’m on is a sleeper car on a 28hr trip, its quite possibly the lcoolest thing I we er done in my life. I feel like a giddy child or a boyscout because its like what every kid dreams about. You jbare going somewhere and yet you are in bed and your room is rumbling and shaking and there are cool noises like the horn of the train like a distant foghorn on a foggy night, and then there’s the stuff outside, its night and you are going through uncharted black terrain but all you can see are the stars and occasional lights in the distance on a black horizon where black trees swish past a black sky. There no color. And then there are other trains passing by for a few seconds the sound is that unique sheering abound of wind compressed between two fast moving objects
Accented by the sounds of bogies on welded rail. All you want is to see another face like an inserted subliminal frame in a movie. The layers of sound low black soft heavy percussion of the underside of the train the bogies and thick gasket suspension play a warm comfortable song of affirmation and the rattle of loose metal brushing fingers against the creaking superstructure makes for a romantic symmetry of memory forming experiences…
Its a sleeper car so there is the whole part of making your bed with which is traditional bedding with laundered and pressed “12 Rose Bedroll for Southern Railways” white cotton sheets Wool Blanket and pillow that add another dimension on this new reality.
I had a fairly good sleep, a touch uncomfortable with the stuff in my pockets keeping me awake because I left my pants on. I am on a side bunk in a two tier carriage, which means on the left side there are four bunks head to window feet to corridor, and on the right there are two bunks aligned with the wall, I’m in the bottom one so I get a great view out the window while laying down.
I just woke up 7.30am stop in a mountain town called Kalyan apparently a lot of spaghetti westerns were filmed there and Bollywood. Certainly it has the looks.
Bahrddy Vartell is what the hawkers say when selling Bottled Water.