Day 8

Nightmares all night. Monsters chasing and authority figures reprimanding me for the wrong crime. I am guilty of so much more.


Taking the day off from volunteering to try and recover from this cold. Spinoza and some Emerson today. Need to broaden my comfort with philosophers. Careful though; don’t use the knowledge only as means of rhetoric or self-aggrandizement. Innocent intention in all things. Theory of reflective fallacy sounds spot on for my dissecting mind. What I critique the most is usually linked to that I wish to change about myself. Easier to point outwards. I enjoy Spinoza’s simple illustration of the silliness with which man has perverted God. If horses had a God surely they would ascribe Him to look like a horse. Predictably vane and limited by our own intellect, man ascribes God earthly traits.


Ashley stops by again to check on me. I am so impressed by the kindness in her eyes that I cry after she leaves.


Walk to Sudder Street for food and wifi. I run into Maria and John and get an overwhelming sense of fear. Can they see through my facade and into my hollow heart? India has worn me down – down to a nub of a former man. My senses are all dull. The cold is an obvious offender, taking away my sense of smell and making me sneeze all the time, but my mind is in a state of frenzy I cannot explain. Emotions seem to be spewing from my gut without warning, leaving my mind to counter the barrage with madness of its own. Is this just a lifetime of suppression come to have its day of reckoning? Is this my collection of neurosis all bound together and set screaming over the open fire of poverty in India? Couldn’t pick a better time could you?


After reading a while online, and writing emails, I decide to start drinking. I simply can’t take this nervosa. The anxiety is making my thoughts scream at piercing levels in my mind. A couple beers help to settle my distress. I write a humorous short story to a group of friends back home and feel a sense of ease and silliness.


I think moving to the Galaxy Hotel tomorrow will help me by way of social interaction. I don’t like sneaking beer in my backpack and drinking alone in my room because of the strict religious rules of my current hotel.


Dinner tonight with a large group. We are in for a rare treat in India: Steak. Tom is part of the festivities and we engage in positive conversation all night. I slowly forget about my troubles and begin feeling a sense of relaxation. As usual I take it to the extreme and tell a couple of my juvenile delinquent stories. Shortly after I am embarrassed when considering my audience are all young devoted Christians. I am reaching for attention and I know it but at this point I do not care. I need to feel loved somehow and I’ll take the smiles where I can get them.


Our tables all join in for flowing group conversation and a great sense of joy sweeps over. I lose myself for a moment staring out across to the other rooftops. Almost feels like I’m back home at a restaurant. I miss home so much. I want to run away from this place and back to comfort. Where is this need for escape coming from? I should be soaking it all in; the experience of traveling, getting lost, but I’m focused on the misery as usual. Like every job or girlfriend I’ve had, I quickly fade from the honeymoon and start picking apart the ugly. It’s obvious that I’m picking India apart because I’m not happy with myself.

Anto LjoljicComment