I hate pants. They are the bane of my existence. I wouldn't say they suck the life out of me, because they just keep heat in. Why people here don't ware shorts is beyond me. I am at the point that if I found a place that would sell running shorts (yeah the ones that are shy of a banana hammock) I would wear them. Fuck the stares, I mean I get enough as it is so whats 5 more out of 100000. I want some ice water, not just cold water, I can find that, but actual ice, a fuck load of it. I want my tongue to freeze to it, and eat so much that my teeth get that frozen acing feeling, and my throat is about to seize. I would like to drive my car in the cool Cascade air, on streets that don't have farm animals, old men laying in them or children defecating on the side of them. I would like to be driving the vanagon, listening to the Strokes, screaming the lyrics out while chewing on ice from fountain soda (pepsi), with short shorts on and the cool wind hitting me just as the vanagon hits her top speed of 60 mph. If I couldn't have that I would at least want a bed. There seems to be some kind of translation mistake, the Hindi word for what ever they sleep on has been translated in to the English word of 'bed', when in fact it should be 'pad'. If anyone here ever slept on what we know as a bed (not pad) they would surly become the modern day Rip VanWinkle. That is what I am dreaming of here in a tacky orange cyber cafe sweating my balls off in fucking pants.
p.s. I have recently viewed the Sasquatch line up. Yeah... so it may not be the best, but despair not, for I am on a mission to get the majority of the music that will be played there and become intimate with it (well maybe just familiar). Anyway GET YOUR FUCKING SASQUATCH TICKETS. I would rather be spared from hearing some whiny story about you being a pussy about going. I am sure as hell not going to start regretting not going now, after never regretting going (well maybe that one time, but luckily a substance abuse coma prevents me from remembering it) and I know you wont either.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Going up stream
Its very difficult for me to express the feeling of being in India. It involves lots of noises like "AAHHHHRRRGG", with hand and arm waving that is precisely coordinated with facial expressions that involve bug eyes, and cockeyed grins and grimaces.
I spent last weekend looking for a drinking hole. My first challenge was in determining if people call it a pub or a bar, I found that people will use one while not knowing the other but with no consistency on which one. As a drinker you are treated like you are a fine dinner, once you slosh down your glass the bar-waiter, intently watching you, will move it back into its optimal grabbing location, with a chipper smile. They are a bit fancy and people drinking are well to do men, who may get up and dance to the techno or 70's disco if the mood its them. After I made it to two places, by luck, I met some fellows that (after yelling at them first if there was another bar for some time, then pub, until they took me outside) took me to a huka bar. As they became gooked, I very tastefully tried their selection of beer (after gins on the rocks, it seemed time) and proceeded to have a loud conversation about American influence on India. The loudest (actually only two talked, the others just stared at me) a baby faced fellow, who may or may not have been sober, made some very interesting points, that completely evade me now. They did make it very clear to me that they loved Harry Potter and JK Rowling (and LOTR) and that there was another book written by an Indian that rivaled the actual series in its excellence, where Harry does something else. I took this well, being from some tie wearing business Indians. The next day, being Valentines and all, I was off to a club that these seemingly nice fellows told me to go to, hoping that it wasn't a gay bar, pub... whatever. As it turned out I couldn't find a single rickshaw that knew where the damn place was, if it really existed, and after walking around, I became very tired (partially from not sleeping the night before) and passed out. Drinking has, again, moved to the backseat and I have proceeded to spend most of my time in a Jabba the Hutt position.
This week (before reaching the rankest smelling fish market) my shirt gets soaked daily with more foreign sweat then a punk concert in the summer (or my 21st birthday...ok not that much). Thank you Indian Trains. Yesterday I was freaked out more then usual due to an old, short man, looking as if he may be dying, continually coughing in my face and all over my left side. And today I almost lost a birkenstock (luckily it flew on to the platform) due to me being pushed out of a train as it was taking off. Here you are an ant with other ants crawling all around you, over you, or trying to go right through you. I dont think that I will ever get over the amount of people. Dont come to India if you are claustrophobic, or maybe you should.
One last thing: Taking a pill everyday fucking sucks ass! My brain is suffering from some kind of block (I might be hypnotized, which I have become increasingly interested in/worried about) because I cant remember to take my Malaria pill. Thus I will take several every cuppla days. And even more when I found a huge grouping of red bites all over my ankles (the perpetrator is a mystery). Oh well, whats a really bad fever and possible death anyway, eh?, at least its not a kid.
I spent last weekend looking for a drinking hole. My first challenge was in determining if people call it a pub or a bar, I found that people will use one while not knowing the other but with no consistency on which one. As a drinker you are treated like you are a fine dinner, once you slosh down your glass the bar-waiter, intently watching you, will move it back into its optimal grabbing location, with a chipper smile. They are a bit fancy and people drinking are well to do men, who may get up and dance to the techno or 70's disco if the mood its them. After I made it to two places, by luck, I met some fellows that (after yelling at them first if there was another bar for some time, then pub, until they took me outside) took me to a huka bar. As they became gooked, I very tastefully tried their selection of beer (after gins on the rocks, it seemed time) and proceeded to have a loud conversation about American influence on India. The loudest (actually only two talked, the others just stared at me) a baby faced fellow, who may or may not have been sober, made some very interesting points, that completely evade me now. They did make it very clear to me that they loved Harry Potter and JK Rowling (and LOTR) and that there was another book written by an Indian that rivaled the actual series in its excellence, where Harry does something else. I took this well, being from some tie wearing business Indians. The next day, being Valentines and all, I was off to a club that these seemingly nice fellows told me to go to, hoping that it wasn't a gay bar, pub... whatever. As it turned out I couldn't find a single rickshaw that knew where the damn place was, if it really existed, and after walking around, I became very tired (partially from not sleeping the night before) and passed out. Drinking has, again, moved to the backseat and I have proceeded to spend most of my time in a Jabba the Hutt position.
This week (before reaching the rankest smelling fish market) my shirt gets soaked daily with more foreign sweat then a punk concert in the summer (or my 21st birthday...ok not that much). Thank you Indian Trains. Yesterday I was freaked out more then usual due to an old, short man, looking as if he may be dying, continually coughing in my face and all over my left side. And today I almost lost a birkenstock (luckily it flew on to the platform) due to me being pushed out of a train as it was taking off. Here you are an ant with other ants crawling all around you, over you, or trying to go right through you. I dont think that I will ever get over the amount of people. Dont come to India if you are claustrophobic, or maybe you should.
One last thing: Taking a pill everyday fucking sucks ass! My brain is suffering from some kind of block (I might be hypnotized, which I have become increasingly interested in/worried about) because I cant remember to take my Malaria pill. Thus I will take several every cuppla days. And even more when I found a huge grouping of red bites all over my ankles (the perpetrator is a mystery). Oh well, whats a really bad fever and possible death anyway, eh?, at least its not a kid.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
not something to shake a stick at
So I have realized that people with retainers are just cooler then people without them sorry every body. This epifiny hit me last night as I looked in my retainer case longingly, and low and behold there it was, my retainer. My unconscious is just so smart that it put it away for me, man I am just soo awesome. It was then, as I was putting it in all happy-like, that I noticed that I had mosquito bite on my left pinkie knuckle! And then another one on my left forearm! After this shocking surprise I took twice the amount of my daily dose of malaria meds. I may also have a head ache, also known as definitive conformation of cerebral malaria! AAAHHHH! Today as I was facing death in the.. aaaaaauhh.. face, I was put into open heart fucking surgery! It was CRAZY! So I tell you now, dont fuck with your heart, because you dont want some kid about to fall on your unprotected bloody, beating heart. Actually it awesome, but it was 5 hrs. of standing. Ouch. There where two doc's taking out an artery from the guys leg while another split him open and sawed through his chest. It was a triple bypass, and it went smoothly.
Right now I am feeling more American then I have for a long time, due to two reasons. 1: Today I used a fork. This may not seem like a big deal but it is the first time in, aauuuhhh... a long time. And I did it twice, for breakfast and lunch, and I didn't even stab myself (a real risk for restarters). 2: I have found wireless internet in my apartment. Yes, thats right I am not in an internet cafe! Yeeha. I can now spend as much time as I want doing all the shit that I have normally have been spending an hour doing. Well that is from 9am to 9pm which seem to be to hours of operation for someones wireless, aaauuuhhhh... operation. So get on fucking skype at 7:30-ish pm your time to see if I am on in the morning (I cant promise that I will, I mean, like, I am, like, saving lives here) or if you want to talk at like 6:30 in the morning it would be sweet. my name is curpete, and I wont yell at you too much if you just woke up (I would put a smiley face or maybe one of those stupid winking faces but I fucking hate that fucking shit).
Right now I am feeling more American then I have for a long time, due to two reasons. 1: Today I used a fork. This may not seem like a big deal but it is the first time in, aauuuhhh... a long time. And I did it twice, for breakfast and lunch, and I didn't even stab myself (a real risk for restarters). 2: I have found wireless internet in my apartment. Yes, thats right I am not in an internet cafe! Yeeha. I can now spend as much time as I want doing all the shit that I have normally have been spending an hour doing. Well that is from 9am to 9pm which seem to be to hours of operation for someones wireless, aaauuuhhhh... operation. So get on fucking skype at 7:30-ish pm your time to see if I am on in the morning (I cant promise that I will, I mean, like, I am, like, saving lives here) or if you want to talk at like 6:30 in the morning it would be sweet. my name is curpete, and I wont yell at you too much if you just woke up (I would put a smiley face or maybe one of those stupid winking faces but I fucking hate that fucking shit).
Saturday, February 7, 2009
The City
I am in Mumbai with the fastest internet that I have had this whole trip. Its blazing! The flight here was fairly standard, you know it involved a plane, and an airport and was for all intensive purposes uneventful. When I fell out of the sky into the haze that surrounds this 14 million person city and got to my apartment, I was amazed. It is fucking different here. I live on the 12th floor of a huge building, and over look other giant residential buildings. There is a "MEGA MALL" just around the corner, and so far no gutters with feces on the side of the road. I havent spent enough time here to have much of an opinion but we will see how living in huge fucking city will be (and I thought that there was a lot of people living in the other parts of India that I have been to). I am now living in constant fear though due to mosquito's. I forgot to start taking my Malaria meds!!! So I am a walking time bomb for future pain and suffering. FUCK! One down, I just killed one of these death carriers which was sitting on the camera of the computer that I am on. If I dont post anything for some time its due to me being hospitalized for malaria. Also after four diligent years of wearing my retainer every night (well except all the nights that I was too drunk to remember/unable to get to it, and other obvious reasons for not having the thing in my mouth at during the night) I have lost my retainer. I have (think I have at least) fucking left it at the mother fucking Maze hotel! fucking shit fuck. I guess it was only a matter of time (I mean really, come on how have I kept it this long) and now I am not that guy who still wears his retainer (such dorks).
Sunday, February 1, 2009
30 DAYS
That's it! I made it, without being killed, dismembered, or catching some tropical disease. Right now I am Derhadun about to go back up to Than Goun for the week. The internet shop is killing my boner about making it 30 days. The guy is playing the worst sappy music ever (I wish I knew the band names so you could envision this shitty RnB-like bitch that I am listening to suck out my soul). I guess it brings me to the point that people here have terrible taste in music. Linkon Park is the favorite band of young people (or something equally terrible) while others listen other just as bad American music. The Indian music that people listen to is not that bad, its a lot like some of the songs in Slum Dog Millionaire. I am going to acquire some so it can just take up space on my hard drive without serving any real purpose. I don't think that I can take much more of the music, I think its making me feel sick (if I die without making it a full 30 days Ill be so pissed), maybe I just have to have a bowel movement, or maybe I am hungry. Either way there is a lot going on and I have to get the fuck out of here. Peace, I am off to take a shit and then eat some food that looks like shit.
P.S. I dont know what happened with the last post (huummm...) but it is posted after the previous one (i dont know its name).
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