Namaste everyone! So I thought I would paste on something a little different this go-round. A smattering from the flourish of thoughts one grasps out of the swirling vastness that is India. Peace. Requiem for a Dying Star Why do Americans have lawns? Should they despise walking from porch or stoop to Chevy or mailbox on weed or soil? Must that void between abode and avenue be filled−or could the distance lie bare like the pitchy trail of aphelion? Feign feral! If a moat be dug then of course swamp the ditch turbid. Sneering crocodiles sliding under brambles like rusty fishhooks. It is perfectly possible to fall hard in love in a panic. A treasure hunt is greatest just before it is found. Then it becomes treasure, then an itinerary of the past swallowed like satellites ... read more

I know this is late in coming, but as they say better late than never at all. I'm predating this entry to approximate a linear time line . . . blah blah blah . . . Before leaving for India this novice traveler would wake in the mornings, head all full of cobwebs, and sweating from the pseudo-nightmarish dreams that the anxiety of going away for so long and so far would induce. Most of these fearful revelries were visions of an India with zombies chasing after my leaking brain, but some took on a realistic hue in which my subconscious was processing my natural fear of the unknown. Just what I actually agonized over will be spared here, but suffice it to say I didn't have any tangible idea of how I would be received ... read more