New short story soon!!!

Working on a short story: The Parable of Adrian. Get excited, or super depressed... a product of a bender of emotions, demons, and lack of angelic grace

Click...Click...Click

Click…Click…Click…

The slow methodical typing permeates the silence of space as the writer, artist, lost soul stares at the computer screen. The fury of the typing rallies with a wave, then slows, then stops, then starts. There is no rhyme or reason to the pace, but the symphony of Click…Click…Click never ends. There are pauses, minutes, days, hours, but the end is never in sight. This is the curse, yet the curse possesses a boon. The musician, scribe, self-loathing asshole keeps clacking away at the board with an intense hatred. The hatred, sadness, misery pours from his heart, through his membrane, down through the eyes, where a little escapes, but not all. The spider web of infinite sorrow continues down the face. He attempts to kill the evil with a cigarette. Rising from the ashes of a desk molded to a human-like form, he floats across the room to the door. A humanoid can walk, this is something different. Almost inhuman. Reptilian in transformation. The tears are those of crocodilian thoughts. He, if he can even be called a he, maybe it is a better personification of the emptiness residing in this pathetic vessel. It levitates across the hallway, down the elevator of this stronghold prison: A five star cage mocking him with beauty, elegance, and love. He walks down the walkway through the gate, to the stall. Surrounded by filth, he feels at home. This is where he belongs. With the rats. The people around are still better than he will ever be, and they look upon him with a mix of envy and pity. The strangest of circumstances. He orders death on the menu, and the shop owner looks disapprovingly, wanting him to order more. He bends over to the conflagration tied from the ceiling and attempts to set his soul on fire. He sits down in the mud, shit, trash, and disease. He breathes in heavily, attempting to kill the storm inside. Hoping to appease some inward demon that wants to cause pain and suffering. “See?” He screams to himself. “There, you have it, I am killing myself. Slowly painfully, just grant me respite from your torture.” A deeper breath allows a moment of solace in the hurt. Physical pain is nothing compared to what the inner demon, a personification of the evil residing within you can imagine, devise, create, and unleash. He orders another, the shop keeper, now with the eyes of a devil, laughs, and hands the death over. “Didn’t work the first time?” his smirk speaks. Letting the man see the evil within my eyes, he falls into silence. Death does not come that night. He wonders what the sweet kiss will be. If in a time such as this, the kiss will be a welcome respite, yet if she came at the zenith of light heart, the terror would be inapprehensible.  He begs to Death for that moment, seems better than any other. There would be no running, only a forced sad drenched smile, and not about the kiss, but about the pain. The smile would be sincere. A welcome home and loving embrace, and then the great emptiness. Who knows the afterlife by name? The only truth is in moments such as these the name must be sweeter than that of now. He flings death to the shadows. Today, Death is not going to welcome him. Another repudiation. Another shudder. The waves crash into the rocks. The smell of salt, piss, and shit stirs his nostrils. The blackness within rises to begin its continued journey. Circulating the guilty, poor soul. He stands slowly, nodding to the silent shopkeeper.  

Click…Click…Click…

The heels of his old, worn dress shoes click the marble. Back he walks into the prison. His place was outside, not inside, yet the irresistible urge to fight lives on. He moves. The palace can almost hear his walk, yet the levitation returns. The floating, the inhuman capability to move without movement. The small portion evil escapes briefly from his eyes, yet the miniscule hurt will not be missed, there is an eternal source within. He opens the door and takes a seat. There is no numbing, no agent of refuge.

Click…Click…Click…

The typing begins anew. The story is the same, the story will have an end. The pain everlasting, but the words will wear thin, the story will break. There always is an end. He prays for salvation, yet none appears. As he abandoned God, God has abandoned him the same as Death’s abandonment. Anything, anything but this. Yet the evil trickles out of his hands continuing the perpetual journey, a deluge of anguish and agony with no end in sight. Yet everything comes to an end, even if that end is a gift from Death.  And when the monsoon ends, when the watershed stops, when the fingers die, then emptiness resides in the hole no longer filled.

Click…Click…Click…

 

Time to get old school on these suits

I know I bark a little too much in my content about being screwed by the local population (at least kiss me first etc.), but some of the nicest people here are just great great people. Like how I started that? Cause here comes the rant haha. One more article about the white tax. And no, I’m not talking about the little girl’s math skills when it comes to fake henna for Lindsay (No! Each stamp is 10 rupees, not the whole hand for 10 rupees)… then again, who can argue with a cute little girl. I’m pretty sure she took the money and started her own hotel. I recently attempted to dry clean one of my crappy suits that I brought to India. Everyone stop doing the math of dry cleaning vs. how long I have been here right now! I get enough grief from Aubry. The humidity, moths, bugs, mold?, all attacked my clothing, leaving spots that look unseemly, dirty, and buggy. The man wanted 560 for a suit jacket. Mind you I just bought a pair of pants for 595. At this stage, I believe a week ago, I was just too tired to deal. Instead of haggling, I just gave him to choice words and left. Cause you know what? Your great granddaddy didn’t have a dry cleaner and he looked like the freaking original Lehman Brother (before the other was born); therefore, time to get old school. I didn’t want to use laundry detergent because I didn’t know how harsh the chemicals are, but you know what feels good on my body? Soap. Most logical decision I ever made. So, I scrubbed my suits with some soap, washed them with cold water, and hung them to dry. Now the humidity is crazy, so took a few days, but they only look half crappy. If I had a press… I might be good to go. Thanks grandpappy! 

Jacket!

First off, Lindsay made it!!! After an excruciating ordeal at immigration (due to her inability to fill out forms), she arrived to the land of Mystics! Alright, I will try to get pictures of her antics later, but I’m sure she will on all her social media platforms (she has been taking pictures of everything). So… back to the reason we are here. Blog Post! Since, every sober person in the universe  voted down the confederate flag post-apocalyptic jacket, we had to go back to the drawing board. She is an amazing designer (school in Cali, lived in NY, now designer in Mumbai – Sidebar: almost all of that rhymed). Here are the 4 jacket designs. That are absolutely awesome! Not telling which one I picked, but I believe the search for a leather jacket ends in Mumbai…

 

 

Just the Tip of the Day: And here I was wondering why it was so hard to find cow leather in India... Oh wait...

The walking dead premiere in Mumbai

After last night’s celebration send off to Neesh, I was not in the mood for food. Aubry ordered from his usual restaurant for lunch (moving from chicken fried rice to Chicken Tikka so watch out diversification Police).  I decided I was going to try something new, and in case I hated it, no biggie, I’m not even hungry. So yea.. what do you think of that food?!? Anywho, a big thing over here is brains. I decided to pull a little reenactment of The Walking Dead. I ordered the brains masala. What I received was the normal curry base.. with a brain chopped basically in half in the bowl. Where the hell is the slice and dice? I want my brain cubed! Not looking at me like a science experiment. Also, received no rice… nice. Took a few bites. I have to say this stuff is really fluffy. Like a lighter marshmellow in texture, melts in your mouth. Not much in the taste department, but it was covered in gravy. Without rice, I had to do something with the big ole pieces, so I toasted bread (and by me, I mean the awesome servants in the office), and made myself a Sammy. The issue with a sandwich is the curry could slide off, leaving the full view of the brain. Looking down at the sandwich, yeap, that’s definitely a brain. Here is to trying new things! Sidebar: I think brains would be excellent with eggs and a side of salsa, the curry overpowered and did not agree with the texture of the meat. Put that on your plate Hannibal.

Just the Tip of the Day: Giving candy to random children is creepy in any country, yet, I still do it.  

Random thoughts and pictures!

I have been extremely lazy, and I apologize. Life just isn't that interesting when you wake up, gym, work, home, sleep ( I am sure I am missing a few things), rinse, repeat. The only time I really get out and about is on the weekends, and I mean do you guys really want to see NSFW pictures? Haha... just kidding, I am all for full frontal Irvin nudity. Anyways, India has a very conservative lifestyle even at the "crazy bars." I have yet dived into the seedy underbelly, but like kitties, they want their underbelly scratched, and I am not willing to pay that price of admission. So I thought I would entertain you guys with some pictures of around the town.

This is the view from outside my front door (on the 5th floor). Not knowing it, you probably wouldn't guess I live in the really ritzy district. Okay, so I live with a family, a toddler that follows me around, a roomate, and all I really have in a room... but its in the hollywood of Bollywood! SO LEAVE ME ALONE. You would be surprised, even in Million Dollar areas, slums are 30 seconds away, because you know, your servants have to live somewhere. Not like you would let them sleep on  your floor... they just cleaned it!

This was taken at the beginning of Ramadan. Soooo I kind of live close to a Mosque. I know you are thinking "RUN" but they actually have good food in the area, where very clean white clothes, have beautiful buildings, and nifty hats. I will go in one soon, just not today. Especially on a big start of a holiday. Also, they fast during this time. Offered a tailor some mint, and he said no. Damn good mint too. His loss. 

This was just a random alley in Colaba off the causeway. Some sort of veggie market. Super beautiful food with all sorts of color. I'm just too lazy to take close pictures. Plus someone has my camera back in the US!!! Gimme! 

Just the Tip of the Day: If you love something, set it free, so I can go hunt it down and eat dinner... 

It's fun to stay at the.. I - N - D - I - A

I promised you two wild and crazy guys.. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. First post… the Hard Rock Café! Cheesy? Sure Overpriced? Yea Murican? You bet your pretty little tush! I needed  had to eat some beef, so I figured this might be the place. Oh and it was. Also? The DJ somehow stole my CD from highschool and slipped it into their overwhelmingly powerful sound system. Sweet Child O’Mine? Check. System of a Down? Check RATM? Check. Nickelback? …. Sadly checked (hey I was young!). At any rate, the dining experience wouldn’t be complete without a gimmick. Today’s gimmick was for the servers to stand up on a ledge, have dance offs, and all around be entertaining at different points during the night. Now, why my waiter was grinding on a ledge instead of getting me a beer? I will never know, but still… made for some good video. Never say I didn’t give you the real Indian experience. You are probably thinking the slums, beggars, cabbies etc., but NO! I am giving you the traditional Indian dance video of YMCA!! You are welcome world!

 

 

Just the Tip of the Day: In every deal, there is an a$$hole, if you don't know who the a$$hole is, look in the mirror.