The ants are after my pasta juice

The ants are after my pasta juice. They are crawling out of the cracks near the sink, red, tiny, and antsy. I tried to clean up so well, with such attention to eatables, but no there’s always something and there’s always bugs. You always miss something and now I’m reflecting on that and writing this down and it’s all because the ants are after my pasta juice. The juice that fell through the colander as I transported the pasta from the sink back to the pot, milky and creamy and and…

And all of the sudden I want something to flow from me and hit something else fast and hard. I want India to believe in me but not that much, and vice versa. So I reflect on that and other confusing things and it feels really boring to reflect right now. Instead I want to release a current of swear words. I want to say the word ‘bored’ over and over again in bad accents. I once dated a girl who insisted that boredom was all in ones head and I never argued with her but eventually I got bored of her, or maybe she dumped me. I rode the train again today, back and forth. It’s better to face backwards otherwise the oncoming pollution hits you right in the face, and you can’t hit back.

I’m two thirds of the way through the Godfather trilogy and seven weeks away from leaving India. I’m waking up at 5:30 tomorrow morning to go to an Indian wedding. They film everything and you sit in plastic chairs watching it on a screen because the guys with the video cameras are in the way. Just like everything else, it’s crazy.

Sacred cows. Cows make people feel useful, they make them appear determined and efficient, relatively, compared to cows at least. But they are also calming and their presence peaceful, serene, if you can handle the swarming flies. Africa, Asia, America, we all love our cows; some love their meat, some their dairy, some the cows themselves, some people just like to love things. But when you’re in the middle of a trash-strewn, people-crammed, dirty, dank, manky feeling place and your mind is beginning to mix hot and cold and spin like a tornado, and then a few cows mosey past, gnawing on junk and casually swishing their tails, then maybe you can feel something like I’d like to express, something transcendental.

The Godfather says, “keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” I think my adage for the day will be, “there’s always something, and there’s always bugs.”