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breast attack on fuck mountain
2005-12-07 | 2:27 a.m.

last night I was perched on my bed, blithely, eating a sundry salad, when I heard a war outside my window. in my nightgown I rushed down the severed, slippery steps to see about 100 girls dressed in red carrying candles, shouting chants, drum circles on either side. my eardrums nearly exploded. enormous horns were heaved into the air, sonorous drums drank different notes and adults were dancing, children were dancing. I was enraputured. with the abrasive noise. I saw the head of the computer science department, krithi, and his outspoken wife, sara. I clasped them firmly by the hand. sara dragged me into the temple, kneeling, ringing the bell. she applied sandlewood paste to my forehead and darted every which way, me in tow, chattering loudly. delighted. I danced to the temple, and I saw a man writhing, spastic, in the arms of other men, carried away from the procession. one man saw the frightened look in my eyes and said 'he is religious ecstasy.'

life here is daunting, delicate, full of dirt and grit and wry passed smiles. god. I don't even feel like I belong here, but then I buy wine and say 'aapke name kya hai' and wriggle between the writhing masses. the brown crowd of dirt and dust. I belong, temporal, surviving and surging. blood pulsing.

later this month I'm taking a train from singapore to malaysia to thailand. christmas courage. weak words. this is all I have.

it is quite difficult to type without a spacebar, drinking, take it from your fair-weather friend. fumbling with these wacky words. oh they can mean so many different things.

I love you, anthony.


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