topic

There’s four days off and the topic is vacation. The location is Bangalore, India; India’s most Westernized city. My American friends back home told me it’s not worth my time, too Westernized, my Indian coworkers have nothing bad to say. My friends back home are too opinionated in predictably preemptive ways, my Indian friends aren’t, well, so suffocated by Westerly winds, yet. Either way, cooler weather, a change of pace, and Western breakfast are too appealing to preempt at this point.
We’re taking a Polish couple with us, insistent that Jenn’s recent stomach problems have a direct correlation with her lack of Vodka, an overnight train, 2nd class reserved, and a list of places to eat, drink, and be merry. We’ve got a hotel for two nights, a tight budget, and an understanding that whatever happens will be strange, unexpected, and generally memorable. We’ll see how it goes.

It’s November and the topic is leaves. The location is between the sky and the earth. The question is when, why, and who leaves with him. The reason is he shouldn’t be asking. The result, a different time and place for sure. And then we all fall down, between the sky and the earth.

It’s Martial Arts class and the topic is why we eat off banana leaves in South India. The decision is that the chlorophyll is good for us, it has ATP it has energy, and that simply by eating off these leaves we are providing ourselves with fuel and nourishment. The obvious is ignored, the ignorance is obvious. The thought of my inferiority as a Martial Artist becomes a personal focus.

It’s 4:30 and the topic is getting a drink of water.

It’s 4:34 and the topic is the rest of my life, the GRE, women, heat, life on other planets, why is the tile so ugly?, why are people comfortable with each other?, Chinese Junk ships, Kurt Vonnegut, the theme music to my life, and the appropriate amount of work to do as to not disappoint but also not over-exert.

It’s 4:39 already. The topic is time, and, briefly, the point at which people give up trying to find meaning and simply accept some form of it; for example reciting prayer passages as slowly as possible for a half-hour as a form of meditation. Jenn, Christian and I tried this last week at a free seminar with a fortunately-worded advertisement. I memorized the prayer of St. Francis; Christian repeated three lines of something having to do with light vs. dark and life vs. death; and Jenn said “baruch atah adonai” over and over again for some reason. In it’s favor the half hour of meditation passed surprisingly quickly and I found it a good opportunity to work on my posture, and there were fresh brownies.

Talk amongst yourselves.