Im back in the dark city after a long weekend at home my quiet little town. The transition always depresses me. I met people I wish I hadn’t. I’ve so much to come out off before I start going out again. I’ll never learn.
You better start talking miss. Times running out. And I sit there thinking, ‘Think of something clever to say’. I got asked to talk on Indigo and turned it down of course.
Dream A Dream. I dread tomorrow’s shoot. Children always see right through me.
‘Follow me down to the valley below’, he sang ‘Lazarus’ to me with his guitar. If I could go back in time I’d at least ask him what he’s called.
I reached Kasol early evening through heavy windy rains with almost no visibility and the bus driver positively high on something judging by the way he was driving. I can’t complain because he missed driving off the road and into the rushing river at every single curve. I still slept through most of the nightmare. I almost never went to Kasol because of a bad feeling I was having and the feeling was not false but on the other hand I found my destiny, At least a part of my destiny. This is also the place I want to die and be buried at. And live here for at least a part of my life.
I decided to take a moonlight stroll by the river at 4:00 A.M armed with music, my notebook , food and a joint that I was going to waste. I jumped the stone wall followed by ‘dog’ who wanted me to keep throwing anything for him to go fetch. I felt safe out there unlike in any city. We walked to the river slowly in the darkness following the almost deafening roar in the night’s silence. The river came so suddenly that I would have surely fallen off had I been running. It was the most brilliant sight you could ever imagine. Stars by the millions, the faint outline of the mountains all around, the mightiness of the river that could rush you to death instantly, the feeling of insignificance personified by it all.
I saw a small light walking through the trees and quickly hid behind a tree, not wanting to be raped or pushed into the river by some Psycho person. He walked like he owned the forest touching each tree as he passed. His long dreadlocks tied in a bunch behind, his bag swinging from his shoulder, His skin almost a deadly white in that darkness. He went towards a hollowed pine tree and sat before it cross legged as if in meditation; in terror I noticed a ‘Trident’ before him. Not knowing how to react and still in laughable terror I quietly made my way out of there. I was later told that the clearing I was at was used by a lot of Shiva Devotees for meditation, chanting and the likes.
This little woodsy area felt so full of indescribable energy, It seemed so untouched and yet you could feel all that discarded people energy. This was to be one of those days of my life that I was to never forget, This was the day I would meet the boy who made me cry in the middle of nowhere and watch me do it in open fascination. He was sitting on a fallen tree and pulling hard at his chillum, shirtless with purple afghan pants and dirty brown hair wich contrasted strongly with his pale eyes, he looked straight at me as I was walked towards him following the path. I did the unthinkable and sat across him, he wordlessly offered me his chillum and I wordlessly declined. Minutes passed before he started strumming his guitar softly I could feel each note vibrate through the air and touch my skin. He sang Lasurus to me in his clear as crystal voice and piercing eyes. I thanked him for the song with a wordless nod and left him there.
This morning, that is now. I decided to get as intoxicated as I can to ease the untouchable pain. So it’s vodka + weed + Ferrero Rocher = Uncomfortable bliss.
As much I laugh at people who have issues in their head like ‘ss’ for example. I completely understand what they are going through. I hate people, I loath the sight of a judgemental-ist which for most of it consists of every single person I’ve met.
I met a boy on a soul trip I made about a year ago, as much as we had in common, i think the best thing was the connection we used to make without words. Those moments I lived there feel like a fast forwarded movie that you cannot slow down. We’d roll, smoke, plan, discuss, dream, love, cry, drink, collect, assemble, admire. We were alone for most of that month in that beautiful blue room with almost no contact with the outside world.
This boy/creature is also the inflicter of many many wounds. So would I do it all again knowing I would be intensely content followed by a period of unbearable torture? I wouldn’t change a thing. SS turned out to be my most connected lover-boy, my biggest life teacher and my worst enemy. For six months I looked at a mirror and learnt and for that I thank you but I still hope you fucking rot in hell. Forgiveness is not for me today.
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