03 November 2006


I found timecave, it's a place on the Internet where you can send anyone a delayed email message. Perfect for suicide.

I don't remember all the details, but let's say it's six months from now. I warned my future self that now is the time to do something extraordinary. Shit or get off the pot.

"A lot of tattoo artists won't do hands or heads," he told me, "tend to be suicidal." And from now on, on my left palm I sport my third eye, and a little yin yang, the words "reality check" up my middle finger, a dollar sign at the tip of the pinky. On the right, just "LOVE". I hear it's all you need, and I believe it. I'll keep loading up, until both the palms are completely covered with freaky shit. For the rest of my life it will just take a flash of the palms to warn off the normal people - CAUTION: from elsewhere.

There's nothing like litterring in a foreign land. I wait for the confrontation. "Not my planet, monkeyboy," I'll say, my bulk and menace shutting down further discussion. Intimidation. I want to be the bad man, the bully. Fear me, because I am ready to throw it all away right now. How bout you, bucko? Go ahead, I could do with fewer teeth, it will save me on dental bills.

But I've been suicidal all my life, working up to it, having premonitions, making plans. It's been my ongoing life project. Everybody dies, it's just some people get to sign out of their own volition. I'm one of the special people, I can do it all by myself. Look, ma, no hands!

I am most fortunate that my employers have seen fit to send me to India in the nearest future. My Hindi is coming along, slowly. Two more months of Korea, then January in Kabul, and then the nexus point.

Westerners go to India to find God, burn out, hit rock bottom and wallow in the dirt. I want in on that scene, those sound like my people. I want to become an opium addict, I want to throw everything I own into a holy river, and after all my money is gone, and I've seen enough, I want to slit my wrists and die very stoned and numb and listening to "Across the Universe".

And in the interim, I want to see the Jagganath Rath Yatra. It's where we English folk got the word Juggernaut, and conveniently it's also the only place I am aware of on the planet where opium is legally available.

And I want to be a Bollywood movie star. That might be an interesting distraction for a year or two. I look good on TV.

Or, failing that, I want a sweet young Hindu girl with good English and a tight round ass and a bright smile to adopt me, make me whole, give me a reason to build a home and make little brown babies, and die some other time.


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