welcome away – gone home now – owned space – my air – my couch – my bed waiting for my sleepies – who is this place? – I sit down on the couch and turn on the cricket, thinking of the rotting-man taunted by unthinkable diseases lying on the footpath outside a glass-windowed jeans fashion superstore in new delhi – the only energy the diseases allowed him was one hand to tap an empty cup – I gave him two weeks to live, so he’ll most likely be dead now
our house was spotless and clean, and I forgot we did that but im glad we did – it was an hour before we had clothes and sew on badges sprawled over the stained carpet – presents we’d forgotten we’d brought ourselves – a music box that plays the theme to the godfather that makes me with a tiny tink-a-bell would dance every time I played it – I play it to drown out the sound of the dying dog we hit while driving in like mad-sane-men in bhutan – I heard and felt the bump, and the stressed out – shit – from the driver despite the fact I was listening to the music in my ears- lady-elle turned around to look at me from the front seat with a nervous smile on her face, which told me to wasn’t a child we hit, which it very well could’ve been – the howls sounded almost human – they didn’t sound like dog – it sounded like it was desperately gasping for life from the unknown hell – oh god – I said to myself, putting my hands over my ears – the other stray dogs in the area came running to see what had happened – I dared not look back – I can’t allow myself to see the dying dog’s companions standing around, circling, as the dying dog screamed deeper into death – some local farmers signaled to the driver to keep driving – don’t worry – and so we kept driving along the dirt-road-rollercoaster, hoping the farmers put it out of our misery as soon as possible
the power had been turned off somehow while we were gone – meaning the fridge was full of a stale stench and melted meats – one foul scoop and it’s gone – a good chance to clean the fridge and so i’m mopping up enough scum and blood to turn anyone off food for three days – it was the ganges, one of the most holy and oldest places on earth – I saw cows walk up and down stairs – I saw their bloated corpses float down the river as the locals bathed and washed the linen – I saw burning human bodies on my way to the restaurant for dinner – I smelt the rotting flesh satan’s raped son, Damien – I sat down and ordered carefully – some soup and some naan bread – I barely touched it – constantly put off my food by this most amazing and holy place on earth – only on earth, so close to god – it was the same place a fourteen year old boy rowed us down the ganges, a job he’d been doing since he was eight – so handsome with a smile that made you want to be his friend – when asked what he did when he wasnt working, he beautifully replied – sleep, and kite... I love to kite
I don’t get jet lag – I live with it everyday – I never really know where I am or what’s going on – I don’t know if it’s day or night or somewhere inbetween – some time soon after landing back at this place, I set out and ran myself into summer’s sweat and a welcome pain – I want to endure – we were walking up small mountains in nepal and bhutan and struggling to breathe – the altitude higher than most – ten meters in any direction was enough to make me want to take a seat on the rock and suck in deep – it made us sleepy, and so we enjoyed a daily afternoon nap, forgetting what day it was and treating them all like the saturday’s when you’ve done enough to have a nap without feeling any guilt – living at such an altitude gives you vivid crystallised dreams every night – my himalayan visions often dealing with death and movement – conversation that only took place in my mind – dreams of songs and strangers invading my relationships and my travels as I moved my way through them - in bhutan we climbed a mountain through snow and fog and the thin thin air – at the top sat a statue of buddha, with his eternal stare into the blissful world hidden somewhere – it sat on the highest point, upon a large rock – as lady-elle sat and recovered, I pushed myself to sit with the buddha, and climbed the snowy rock dodging danger and fear – after making it I stood up to be overcome with a spacey light-head and hollow lungs – I knelt down and took whatever air I could find till the visions banished themselves to my sleep where they waited in dance - buddha told me to wait
No comments:
Post a Comment