:)

I have friends in calcutta! Nine neighbourhood canines - 4 puppies, 5 grown up, snarly, we mean business but will stop for eggs and pats on our heads doggies. Oh they're all the same. They all behave the same, they all remind me of other homiez I've had the pleasure of running into at different points of time in my life. They're all one gorgeous doggie. This makes the whole theory of the atman and the brahm make sense. Except it's not one universe, one consciousness. It's one let-me-rub-your-stomach-while-you-paw-at-my-hand-with-that-hedonistic-smile-on-your-face gorgeous puppy.
They walked me back to my guest-house with the most purposeful strides ever and then ran onwards. Off to make sure all those who need to be escorted are being taken care off and that no one's messing up their sand-piles. Probably to save the world.

I hate

waiting
guilt
feeling trapped
being indecisive
being forgotten
not being able to tell
most of all, being away from my babies.

It's going to be a wonderfully slow day, finally. Since I moved into this place I'd been feeling very restless and walled in. I think I've finally begun to learn how to stare off into space and zone out comfortably enough. Since I landed in Calcutta I've only met scared or indifferent dogs. None of them would respond to whistling or calling. Last night, armed with greasy egg rolls I became firm friends with two beautiful ladies who were kind enough to let me rub their stomachs and vent some of my longing for my own babies. I hope they're fine and warm. And I hope they know I'm constantly sending them love.
Today is the day I lounge. I walked around Calcutta yesterday and I think I quite like the place. It's filthy and crowded and has the strangest traffic I've ever seen, but it's a friendly place. I've been working around the clock all week and it feels like it's passed by in an uneven sleep-clogged blur. I'm sitting by myself and I'm content. And slightly panicking about all the studying I need to get a move on NOW, but I'll ignore that for at least half of today. It's been a while since I've stopped to do nothing and opportunities like this are not to be passed on.
*
My brain is finally becoming pleasant goop. I can slowly feel it sliding down into the back of my head, slouching all the way. I'm torturing myself with delicious thoughts of holidays and bed-ins. I'm suddenly craving buttered toast. That's a childhood association with holidays.
*
I bought My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk yesterday while strolling about Calcutta. I read about thirty pages and passed out last night. A book! A new interesting book that has the potential and promise to occupy me all weekend long. I never imagined I'd need to get away from Delhi to be able to do this again. Ah shit. I need to study this weekend. Dang. I'll figure out a way to do both, of course.
*

Foo!

It's been a weekend where the mocha in my coffee, the shine in my lip balm, the sour cream in my fajitas and I haven't really got to talk. Almost at all. But this Sunday night we feel invincible.
I'm tired and I'm stressed and I'm happy about you, hero. We're set.

I saw a dog with an exposed brain today. The world is strangely tranquil. I used to live in fear that I'll get used to losing children. It's come true. I'm sort of prepared for it, one by one. Except Binky. I don't know what that would mean. But I suppose if I can lose Pere, I can deal with anything.
I don't want to think about this anymore.
It's pointless feeling guilty and helpless. I haven't learned how to internalise this platitude. It makes all seem trivial. I'm trying really hard to focus. I'm trying really hard to figure out what's important. I can't seem to tell anymore.
I used to want to get away from all sorts of things. Now all I want to do is embrace my responsibilities. If you can't figure out what it is you want, doesn't it make sense to live with some sense of purpose? My purpose could be to take care of those I'm supposed to care for.
I fear at times that the world makes too many demands on me. I don't remember what it feels like to feel young. Or to have time to draw. I wouldn't know what to draw. There was a time it came without hesitation, like vocalisation. Now it would frustrate me with its unrelenting refusal. I feel dried up.

I'm trapped in a sea of new faces. There are constant sirens wailing and beautiful breezes. Cheap cigarettes and endless fruit platters.
I'm going to swim for it motherfuckers.

I haven't written yet, while being in Indonesia.
Hey.