8.12.14
6:30am-The broken tooth on the
upper left side makes it difficult to eat, a sharp edge drags the side of my
mouth raw. I don’t know what kind of
dentists there are below us now, it’ll be a stab in the dark no matter what. No pun intended.
Heavy rain and fog mix it up. The man in room six is quiet. That is good.
May he sleep in peace for at least the next 27 more hours. Below is the sound of a big river. No one is driving out there this
morning. It could be rain. Horns and drums from the monastery cut
through the fog.
The mistaken coincidence is carrying a child. Will she keep it? It is of no concern to me. This certainly ends any speculation that the
coincidence was meaningful. A terrible
misleading from mischievous spirits is finally put to rest, thankfully, an
imaginative and completely erroneous series of events five years ago.
Let’s look at the positives here: most of the world is not at war though the
usual domestic and ethnic ones continue everywhere. Wonderful birds of song flutter in the corn
stalks. The fog hasn’t dissipated a
positive ion since I got up two hours ago.
We’re waiting for the sun, dude.
Yesterday’s serious funk bothers me but not as much now
considering there are a lot of bad things going on, it feels more than usual. Turning off the tv helps, turning off the
internet helps, but turn either on again and nothing changes. Such negativity can be flushed out with no
tooth pain and lots of nature. I’ve
always enjoyed the intrigue in mysterious fog.
You like fog? Come to the
Himalayas in August!
The man in room six begins drinking beer before ten
am. He pushes a dining room table right
up to the windows with a cigarette that hasn’t left his hand in 58 years. Leave him be.
This is a holiday for some.
The frames without screens arrived this morning. They are heavy and I don’t know how they are
going to put them in without removing the metal frames. And where are the screens? You’re going to install a frame and then a
screen? Ah, I don’t understand.
Fog recedes down the mountain, slowly the sun finds a
thinning and you gotta have a good pair of sunglasses here. The birds, why not be like a bird? Never a worry of the past or future. Build a nest, eat, avoid being eaten,
sing. The fog is coming from the Hamaj
Valley and it’s pushing in bright white smoke and we’re up to our necks in it
again. Wait! Now’s it’s blowing in from
Pame and tongues of glacial algae lick my room five door.
12.40pm
Ram is waiting for something to do, he stands over me
watching me type and he laughs like he is on something strong but it is only
Ram and only a burning incense stick will keep him at a distance.
This morning raga is pretty cool and may be the best
morning drive song ever.
Rendition of Raag Vibhas by Adhithi Ravichandran. Gat in
Drut Laya set to Teen Taal (16 bts).
We wait for the men who built the frames to
return. There has been power for an
hour. My right eye itches either from
fatigue, mold, and it’s tough to stay in the mood to write when I rely on music
from the internet.
I must eat carefully, jagged break thrusts into the
flesh on the left and I don’t know what’s going on on the right side but that
kind of hurts and it leaves only the teeth in the very front that don’t hurt to
nibble a peanut butter cookie.
Meanwhile fog from both valleys come out and meet and
we are dark again. It’s early
afternoon. A languid day. And no sign of the framers. And a steady rain falls.
6.20pm
The rain has stopped for now, ominous clouds and fog
surround the mountain top. Kiran is
sitting here listening to morning raga and it is pretty cool. Sometimes I get the feeling I’ve said the
words cloud and fog too much and yet synonyms for these aren’t the right words
to what I see every day. Anyways, Suman
played one of the hundred games installed by the Thai boys. The framers, it appears, are not coming
back. The screeners perhaps will come
tomorrow. I think they’re too big but
I’m guessing they know that too and they’ll bring the tools to squeeze them
in.
If it still hurts to eat tomorrow morning we’re going
to the dentist. I have the most time
here besides the armpit and I will trust, I will try and trust any man or woman
who puts their hands in my broken mouth to have compassion and smarts.
Man:
‘Dees man no like me, he no want talk to me’
Man1:
‘I have nothing to say to you.’
Man:
‘Dees man no like Arabs but wait he work there.’
Man1:
‘Am I obligated to speak to you?
Nothing personal’
But it was, it is personal. And I don’t know him but he is symbolic of
something far worse than a stale loaf of bread and I don’t believe there is
anything I can say or do that would be appropriately constructive. With this tourist in room six, that is. Shhh…drink your beer we have nothing to
discuss.
One day I am going to look up the difference between
clouds and fog. Fog can carry rain. And this has been the wettest day in almost
three weeks here. There have been a few
breaks but it ain’t over yet.
10.20pm
In July of 2009 I recorded five straight days of rain
and fog and could feel the walls closing in on me. With a good umbrella and a bigger room this
shouldn’t happen again. The rain
continues to fall hard.
Six Tibetan women check into rooms two and three. They work at the refugee camp on the other
side of the city, where carpets are made.
They all looked comfy playing cards in room two.
And don’t forget before you call it a day, wash your
feet.
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