Just have to roll along with it, and the wheels stop when it’s time to stop.

Let’s not fool ourselves, there is no magic moment, no sudden inspiration, no life-changing flashes.

Instead, we have pretty lights in the sky, we have music, we have laughter, we have the warmth of people around us.

But I think this is enough to constitute moments which we can call good times.

Happy New Year!

And a year later I find myself here again, aircon still not fixed

After a lengthy haggling session with the taxi driver (not very effective) we managed to get to the outskirts of Kuta and took a long walk to Komala Indah II, the nice garden cottage which I lived in last year. When we got there, they only had a little shack in the family compund left for us but it was cheap (5 bucks) so we took it. Spent about 12 hours a day in the bed, inclusive of napping in between surfing simply because that’s the thing to do here.

The room, after a few weeks of occupation

First order of business the next morning was to get some motorbikes. Decided to trust the shop right outside our place to help us with our transportation needs. We kind of hit jackpot, good price, good bikes, good service and most importantly, clean helmets.

The usual morning scene

Once your basic needs are settled, it’s really just downhill from then on. We ended up staying a month at the same place for a month because really, what more can you ask for? It’s hard to find a balance between routine and adventure while on holiday but I think we really lived it up in that little shack we called home for a month. Mosquitos got pretty insane some nights, I systematically took my revenge each morning by slaughtering them while they slept in the cupboard, abdomens bursting with our blood.

Some scenes from home:

Adib, the boy who stole all the sweets Derric gave the children

2nd favourite dog

Favourite dog

Mama dog who lives behind the room with her pups

Lazy afternoon, hypnotic gamelan virtuoso playing in the background

Ubud is the hangout for local artists, spiritual hippies, yoga loving travellers wearing sarongs and bandanas and lots of beads around their neck and.. well you get the idea. Found some pretty good food there though:

Babi Guling at Ibu Oka, roast pig and mystery parts

Dirty duck diner. Very delicious but at a very tourist price.

There is a pretty good market in Ubud

Found this on the Kuta-Ubud route, a huge black demon pig being chased by a naked knife wielding demoness thing.

I guess that’s life, there is a time and place for all things.

I can’t continue. Honestly, I did not pack the books into my head. I have no names to throw out, no facts, no theories, no quotes, no graphs, no. I try sticking my finger down my throat but all I cough out is air and spit.

On one sheet are written the questions. What do you want of me, I ask the writer. Do you want me to prove that I spent hours moving words from the books and slides into my head? That I can reproduce somebody else’s definition and ideas? Do you want me to show you how much time I spent in the quiet place among the rows and rows of like-minded individuals staring at notes and laptops? No, of course you don’t.

You want to see my passion for the subject, oh yes. You to quantify want my understanding, you want to give it a score, based on an arbitrary scale. You want put my paragraph beside a list of bullet points and play spot the difference. You want to draw the curve, and place me neatly among the others, and admire the figure. My guess would be that your ultimate aim is to educate.

Maybe I’ll ask this anyway just to be sure, would you rather I write, or do you want me to WRITE?

School has me living on bended knee these days.

Perhaps this is not a valid end goal. Let me find my joy elsewhere, as I always have.

my mind half-filled with meaningless bits and pieces.

I should be numb. I have done this so many times.

In chilly air of these rooms I have performed incredible feats of improvisation,

and as many times tragically crumbled and shattered my own psyche.

Like Russian roulette, except that I want the next chamber to be loaded don’t care if I am lucky or I loaded the bullet myself or I spun it just where I wanted it to be because I just want to feel the bullet spin and prick and drill and tear and rip through skin through bone through the grey matter through the neurons through the thoughts through the memory through my very consciousness and soul.

And after the game is over I will walk out of the lecture theatre full of holes, and await the autopsy results.