No Dog Poet.........
I been sitting, or, occasionally laying down, while this enormous funeral procession has been going on; all night last night, They are banging drums. For all I know they are killing elephants too. A friend comes by and tells me this guy was a very bad man- hated and feared in the community- charged outrageous interest and was a loan shark. As I write these words, the drums resound. It is up and down the street and... so loud it sounds like a war. Now I know why I am here; so I can tell you about it.
I am not Hunter Thompson and I don't want to be. He was an atheist. I am not. We both liked football, although, probably, unlike him, I played the game. If no one else on the planet will witness for me, my four brothers, born from the same mother, will attest to my skills in all sports, table games and card games. I know that no one with an ego wants to hear this shit. What do I care? You can't do these things; your problems.
The fireworks continue. It sounds like dynamite going off outside me window. It shocked the shit out of me when it first started happening. It is incredibly loud and I got into trouble for crying out, “Oh my god”? You cannot make sense out of this country.
My friend, my own Gunga Din, is here every night now, so is his guru. You cannot, absolutely cannot make sense of this place. I have never seen anything like this and I have been in just one place. There it goes again. It feels like air bombardments and... all of this for a moneychanger and usurer. Like I have always maintained; the bigger the asshole, the bigger the funeral. I now know the meaning of paid mourners.
I would tell you more about what has been happening to me, I am truthful after all but... there are people who hate me here now and... cool people who love me. I can't tell you certain things because the former would use them against me. I never realized how insular and bat-shit crazy this place was. If you are full of shit... fine, otherwise, watch your ass.
Things happen for a reason. While I was down a few days ago, some people showed up to come at me; people from my fairly recent past... people who know nothing about the conditions on the ground. They came around to taunt, gloat or get self righteous. They even came around after the last Origami. Nothing can separate a fool from their folly. Somehow that is how they are made. It doesn't mean dick to me. I'll be here as long as I am supposed to be and so will they. The only difference is in the final destination.
Sounds pounding in my ears; whole house shaking for the funeral of a bad guy and I got in trouble for crying out in the night? Nothing makes sense. It appears that hypocrisy is a global phenom. I have seen so much that is false and a little that was true. For the second night in a row, Gopal broke down. His conscience is really troubling him,, he's a young man though and he will get over it. It seems that India is and can be a very violent place. I've been in some of the hardest places in the US but this is a bit more primal; like Hawaii.. Objectively it is much larger but I expect it applies across the board.
One of the things that Gopal always says to me is that he is dying; everyone is dying. You can imagine how that translates into the culture here, since that is what everyone thinks. People also very quickly believe what they are told and... like in prosaic, provincial Germany, people are always peering out of their windows.
There is this young Indian woman here who is in love with me. She wants me to come over to her house. Gopal told me, “Don't do that, everyone is watching”. What the hell is wrong with people? Don't tell me Kali Yuga is over'.
There go the explosions and the drums again. The bigger the asshole, the bigger the funeral.
There was this guy here. I thought he was my friend. He wasn't. I could tell he was upset with me. He believed some lies. Okay, I can live with that... but then I heard he was really pissed off cause I took his rickshaw driver and... even more pissed off that 'his' rickshaw driver was staying at my house every night. Then I found out that he was seriously pissed off because I was touching women on the shoulder. I didn't realize that wasn't okay. Why not just tell me? Oh no, that would be logical and intelligent.
Then I hear that my rickshaw driver is getting drunk at my apartment every night; not true. We watch movies and we talk. But you can't tell people anything when their minds are made up; especially when you have helped them and they are holding on to expensive property of yours and like to make a big deal out of things they weren't around for because it is advantageous for them. I'm not stupid. I see what's going on... finally.
Huge explosions just shook the house again. I think I'll go take a nap (grin)
'The World is a Rumor' is track no. 8 of 13 on Visible's 2007 album
'The Sacred and The Profane'
Lyrics (pops up)