Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Not a day goes by that I don't think I should cut and run. You have never seen anything like India, if you haven't seen India and I have only seen parts of The South so far. I am meeting people who are so impressive in their simplicity and native spirituality that I am in awe of the majesty of the cosmos. I'm not sure I can handle this but somehow I am handling it or, should I say, it is handling me. People; consider this mountain that fills my window spaces as a god. There's something present here and whatever it may be, it is inescapable.
I'm staying here under the assumption that one of the most gifted musicians I have ever met, Scott Armstrong, will eventually show up. I have to hide in my apartment much of the time. It is all just too overwhelming. People who read my blogs and live around here, know who my friend Abul is. He's that gifted at so many things that people just know who he is. I had no idea that I had so many readers, no matter where I am; I realize now. Some of them like Wendel, who once came from Indiana but is now an old India hand has such a beauty of experience wreathed around them. Some of them are full of shit.
One fellow who goes around claiming to be enlightened but who has been reading the blogs for awhile was bugging me for a bit but then, mercifully, I thought, had gone away, got in touch with Abul. Abul didn't tell me what he said and I'm not the sort of person to be curious about that sort of thing. I may have some shortcomings but vanity isn't one of them. Trust me, the synchronicity here is major.
Today I was with my rickshaw driver. It was a new guy named Minux. Usually Gopal Krishna drives me everywhere. I sensed that this guy didn't really like me so... I said, "Let's go somewhere where I can get a beer." He said that there is nowhere in Thiruvanamalai where you can do that. I said, call Gopal. So we wound up at this hotel where I had been before and where no one is ever around; out of the outskirts of town and I said, "Come have a beer with me." He said, "Okay." We had a beer and I decided we should have another. There were two skin and bones dogs moving about so I ordered a complete meal for each of them. Minux opened up to me. He told me how little he made. He has a wife, a son and a daughter. He is very proud of his family. Then he said to me, "You are a very good man, a very good man." He said that in 15 years of driving a rickshaw, I am the first person to ever do this; take him out for a beer. If you need any more proof about why I despise most westerners, look no further. It has never been more clear to me that I am a black man trapped in a white man's skin-
You lazarussian leather Gunga Din
Though I've belted you and flayed you
By the living god that made you
You're a better man that I am, Gunga Din."
I still don't have internet so... I might have messed up a couple of lines.
Anyway, when Minux said that to me I burst into tears. He was so concerned for me. I told him, "Do you think I feel bad? Not at all. If a man can't weep because his heart is overflowing he is dead inside, dead." Then again, how many people's hearts are overflowing? Thank God I can still feel and I have never felt so much as I am feeling now. It is fiercely intimidating. How does that line in the Paul Simon song go?
I am afraid that I might disappear
Slip sliding away."
I was on a beach in the Bahamas years ago when I heard The Persuasions singing that and I remember what it was like to be young and stupid and to believe so much, not much has changed (grin). I've danced on a lot of beaches in my life, dancing
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate, driven deep beneath the waves"- etc.
Of anyone I have ever known has, "been there and done that", I have...
Have you ever been experienced?"
It is at once, beautiful, breathtaking, horrifying, dirty And teeming, always teeming here. I'm starting to get a clue as to just what kind of a person I really am and why my invisible friends like me. Quite truthfully, I hate myself; for not having tried harder, for not having succeeded so that I could do more, for all the various shortcomings that make me what I am and what I am not. I despise myself; compared to the people who should, I have committed no great crimes but I never did enough. I never took the right road. I always went ‘les traveled' and more difficult. For some dumb ass reason, I always do it the hard way. In short, I am a fool, no big revelation there.
I realize now that I personally don't know shit from Shinola. I am a fucking amateur fighting ghost armies in the cemeteries of night. I am no better or worse than my imagination convicts me of. I'm told that I am a lot better than I think I am; relentlessly. Every time I am about to fall into the slough of despond, someone, something picks me up and says, "Would I love you if you were the asshole you think you are?" And that voice, like the hound of heaven pursues me down all the highways and byways of my life and the moments of my thought and says, "Visible, be nice to yourself as you demonstrably are to others. I made you hate yourself for the refinement of your work and I made other people love you far better than you have ever been capable of loving yourself." To paraphrase Tom Waits; "You ain't a bad guy when you get to know you."
I have never been so humbled in my life as I am now... never. I'm pretty good at a few things as most of you know but I'm also good at a bunch of things you don't know about but I realize now that I am not nearly as good as I thought I was, even given the fact that when you are that good, no one can contend with you. I am a mere piker. I am the living approximate of no one, nowhere. I get it now, in the shadow of this mountain. I recognize my insignificance. If you can't handle it, don't come here because everything about you will be exposed and rendered naked. If you are a real human being you will be stripped to the bone If you are a posturing prat, you won't even notice but everyone else will.
I really hope those of my readers who can afford it, come and visit and see what I have been given. As you well know, my generosity is only exceeded by my inability to perform and express it. Hey, it's winter where most of you are and through the unmatched generosity of my readers, I'm okay and you will be too. All you have to do is get here. I have the food and the infrastructure and, as you know, I don't lie. I would have been caught out a long time ago. Absolutely no one on the internet has the genuine and intelligent readers that I have and there is no mistake about why that is. I would blame it on resonance, or excessive articulation for those wishing and hoping but you and I know why that is really...
I feel terrible about not sending Michael Rivero the bottle of scotch I have for him; I will though. I feel terrible about all the things I have left undone; not the least of which was to have been more diligent about letting Susanne know every day how much I love her but... there is time for all these things. I want all of you to remember that if it was not for Rixon Stewart, a lot of you would have never heard of me. If it were not for Jeff Rense, the same thing applies. I have had a lot of help coming to your attention. Bide with me friends, the best is yet to come.
It is 3 days later and I *still* don't have internet. But check this out. I live several kilometers out of town, on a dead end street and... inexplicably someone opened an internet café 25 meters from my apartment. I am going to go post this there now. I trust that Sim will fix the punctuation problems in this posting. Lady K shows up today and that will help. I can't sleep for this mountain brooding over me. Truth be known, I need a handler but that will come. I cannot manage my life. I'm lucky I can go to the toilet without a handler; just being honest. One thing I have always tried to do, my readers, is to be honest with you. I can't cut and run. I may be a lot of things but I am no coward. I will face what I have to. I have probably watched "Pure County" ten times since I got here and "Time Bandits" plenty too. If you are going to come to India there is one thing you have to do; make an honest rickshaw driver your friend. I've done that.
One thing more, Tulsia, who lives with Abdul and is one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on; black as coal, with all the beauty and brilliance of her kind... make no mistake. She has cared for me and looked out for me. Of all the people in this camp, Tulsia has looked out for me the most. If you are glad I am still alive, blame her. I went into a store with her a few days ago and some punks insulted her and I came within a heart-breath of grabbing both of them by the collar and letting them know what was what. I didn't do it out of respect for her. That is what she means to me. I definitely have visible and invisible friends. You really should be here.
A studio version of 'Without a Clue' is track no. 11 of 12 on Visible's 2007 album 'Color Ball'