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I am in India and struggling to string coherent thoughts together. There’s so much color, smells, noises to decipher and feelings to contain or free, that I have no idea what to write or share.

So I will start with thoughts that feel more transparent. I wonder often about my feelings  and how I wrap them in words and music. Do I cheapen or exalt what is felt through music? Fuck that, I know I do both!

I  write music in order to empty myself of feelings, as they can overwhelm and lead to all kinds of crazy.  I don’t know how people walk around feeling all the things they do, having it stuck to the inside of their chest with no room for escape.

It’s an odd thing sitting on a balcony in India, inhaling organic, tobacco and nicotine free smokes, sipping on a cold beer as the sounds of scooters fill the air… and realising that I have all the clarity I need. I saw bright lights flashing in the far distance and made the decision to skip Afrika Burn this year. Attending last year freed me in all the ways needed. It was one of those situations….where I didn’t realise my neck was shackled to the ground and the boat was filling with water until I felt the heat of the desert.

I had to chuckle while taking a look at beauty products earlier today. Written in bold was White Beauty – in a land filled with hues of the most exotic – white is still desired more. That shop would have been boycotted in certain parts of South Africa.  I wish people just be cool with being who they are. Anyhoo, tomorrow I shave half my head clean while listening to some Tom Waits and thinking of ideas for the music video we are about to shoot here.

India is beautiful and heartbreaking. I am ranting because I don’t know what it is I feel just yet. But moved I  am yes. More moved than I know what to do with. So moved that all I do is stare, make notes and retire early so the images of the day can fade and sleep remove the vibrancy so I can dream.

My Mother calls and demands I send photos. Photos mean nothing, coupled with the fact that I am rather inarticulated does not impress my Mother in the slightest.

Wait, I have it! India reminds me of the kind of guy I really like but will never admit to liking after the first date. You know…the one I cannot look at in the eye for too long. The one I refuse to touch and keep a distance from. India is that guy who confuses me so much I don’t know whether what I feel is love or hate…and so prefer to run away and avoid altogether.

Dammit India! You are marriage material…even without the sea and lagoon close by. I could call you Home. Best I not share this bit of information with any of my family members just yet as I explore and anchor my being while here.  Damn you India…how dare you take me by such surprise and this on day two only?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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