December 12, 2014
This laptop has bit it. I am now forced to use the key Pad that allows me to type via the mouse and a small key board on the screen. Some characters are starting to work. It sucks. The keyboard is small. The last town I stayed at was called, ‘Srikakulam’. I am now outside of ‘Rajahmundy’. I have a great room for 800 Rs. No ac. AC is another 400 Rs./night. The room has two ventilators. It’s a big room. This fucking computer. It’s fallen off the bed more than once. It’s been with me, Electra and Suukyi over 30,000 Km’s. Much over very difficult terrain. It sits, packed tightly, without a case, in their aluminum saddle bags. It’s over eight years old. Its case is cracked. I replaced the hard drive and keyboard. I didn’t replace the hard drive with a solid state unit. I suspect this is the problem. We have yet to see the blue screen of death.
I will leave it in Madras with some other shit and anything extra Cara brings. She is not her here for another eight days. The problem with me writing is that it has to be transcribed. I am not going to do this. My guy in Delhi can.
I didn’t too far today. Just over 200 KM’s. All I can think of is of having to be at the airport to meet Cara. If I am not there…. Good god, I will feel the wrath. Can you imagine….
We rode through a huge city called Bheemunipatnam [I think that was it]. Mother fuck this city went on and on and on.
It’s hard to make a fly over with a city of this size. NH5 went right through it. It’s humid in this part of India. And 30 -31 degrees. My riding gear has not been washed since I arrived. Before that – who knows. It ‘felt’ clean when I put it on in Delhi. Now – it’s greasy. As many times I have put on the grease it doesn’t bother me too much.
There are a lot of sheep in this area. Northern Colombia a lot. Tonight I had mutton curry and five roti for 195 Rs. Greasy as hell. It was the ghee. Plus sheep is always greasy by nature. There is no cutting of the fat. I just tilted the plate and waited a half hour.
The last four or five hundred KM’s I notice the peoples to be very poor. Subsistence poor. THIS is what everyone needs to witness. And IT should not be something they HAD to see but something they MUST bear witness.
I have seen lots of churches. It makes me wonder. The first question asked of me in this area is, “What do you do?” I don’t feel love in this area. Brows frowning. I wonder if they think I am a missionary here to change their religion in favor of money. I wonder if they think I am a missionary. Far from it. For example – now I can hear a sweeper outside my room. This is Hindustan and will always remain as such. Maybe this was the guys deal last night. I was told later, he was crazy. I went out shopping that night and everyone was cool. Of course, by that time, EVERYONE, knew me. I stayed within 200m on either side of the hotel. I can’t afford to run into the crazy fuck. Yeah, don’t drop a big boy bike without anyone noticing. India is always gossip. The crazy fuck was gone.
I went across the street to use the street to use the ATM. AXIS Bank. It was next to a petro station. All the fillers came over to say hi. It was cool. We BS’ed as much as we could. There was one pump jockey who wouldn’t come over. Eventually the others coxed him over. Well, this is the crazy fuck ! I nop and say Namaskar and put out my hand – with a grin. He tried to run. He was either a little loose or embarrassed. Everyone was laughing. The jockeys grabbed him. I tried to hug him saying, “No problem Bhai Sahb, its tika, its tika.” He ran off. An obvious deficiency of some sorts.
It’s been a lot time since I put my thoughts of Wendy to paper. I spend a lot of time in the fuselage. I think of her more than Annie and less than Cara. No that’s wrong. I think of Annie more than anyone.
Wendy took my virginity. I think I was 19. Not sure. Actually it had to have been 19. I find that there is an infinite attraction both mentally and physically to the first. It was with me for at least 10 years. Even today I am still attracted to cute brunettes.
When I reconnected with her this summer  I wasn’t sure what to expect. Nor did I give a fuck. If she was going to be angry -- at this point of my age in life - what is what is.
I was more than surprised. As a guy – hotness. She looked the same as she did in high school. Weight, figure and facial features. She came over with Tyler that first night. I felt so bad of my physical appearance. Even now I vividly remember her appearance. I could never describe it in words, only a picture would do justice. Even then I am not sure if others would suspect I had it photo shopped.
Within minutes we hit it off. We talked and talked – for three hours. Tyler just sat there like a third wheel. I wish I could remember the date.
After that night she had come over to the shop several times. She is currently on disability. She hates it. She sure respects her time. I wish I could do that. Volunteering, sports.
It’s no wonder she exudes such a light.
She is also involved is several self-improvement courses. I really wish I could or was doing what she was doing. She is also involved in several other courses as well.
So………… I have been out of the game for several years. I really wish I could or was doing what she is doing. Wasn’t this the plan? I wish I could do that volunteering, sports.
Nah……. I went a different route. In my room, in southern India, by myself, on a bike I don’t think I did too bad. I retired at 44. Regardless of what my business partner thought at the time. He’s cool.
I am so thankful he kept the show. Anyway I have to leave this but will return. I love both my brothers equally.
Now that I’ve set this shit up for myself, I’m going to deal with it another night.
Fuck I’m a drunk. I am quite looking forward to A.A. they’re all solid people.
The mutton is so good. It’s spicy. All I have had in the 48 hours is a small plate of fried rice (Dabba rip off) and a small hand full of Breanyi [-10 sp] and four chai.
I ate a small handful of the biryani I ordered last night for breakfast. That lasted until 11:00 AM. I stopped for nasta. They must eat something other than aloo pranatha in the South. These are truck stop dabhas. No one speaks English. There is rudimentary Hindi - but what the fuck do I have?
The language is neither Hindi, Bengali or Tamil. I guy told me what the spelling was of the paper I forget. It looks like South East Asian.
I made a list of items that Suukyi would like performed. It’s minor surgery. The item that gets the most attention is her chain. 16,000 km’s. Why didn’t I bring a spare? Fuck me!
Tomorrow I will be clean it. I am debating this. I will use petrol. Hey! Why not diesel? Petrol is so….bad. At least diesel has some lubricating properties.
It’s NOW 8:00 AM here.
8.6 lbs. this is the amount she will no longer have to carry. I am so happy. This is huge weight. Laptop.
I look at what I carry. This is my house for six months. Plus tools, plus knickknacks, [zip ties, extra tubes both tyres], jumper cables (tiny), compressor, extra nuts and bolts. I don’t run tubeless anymore. Damn I wish I could. Chain tool, tube patch kit, and tools to do everything I have the ability to perform plus a 8.6 lbs laptop and bike paperwork rain gear, bike cover, atlas, lonely planet and two reading books [one is finished].
One would think what does that leave room for?
- Sneekers one pair
- Flip flops one pair
- 4 pair shorts
- 8 pair underwear
- 10 pair socks
- 2 pair riding shirts
- 3 button up shirts
- Toiletries + shampoo + sunscreen
- Everything eles I carry on me.
- Personal docs
- Note book
I know a lot of people read this. This list wasn’t for you it was for me and my Grand kids.
Living out of this for 6 months a year is fucking tough. It’s my house.
Now!! If you want to hear super-human. I have friend - Stephany Dean Dinn who rode Central American via pedal bike! Sure I had the petroleum power vehicles. Electra and Suukyi. She did itself-human powered. How much gear do we suspect she was willing to yield? Plus she, as a woman, needed to pack around bra’s, mind us her panties take up less volume and weight less than my ginch. Plus she must have carried woman’s stuff, this shit weight nothing put volume.
Nuff about measurements?
What should I discuss? Oh, there is so much, OK… that black eye I received a week ago – I still have a sizable knot under my eye.
I hope Cara can help me with my hair. It’s not too cool.
December 13, 2014
It’s only the 13th so I decide to stay one more day.
Turning on the laptop this morning to care of Mr. Morning wood and she [the laptop] was shrieking. I have heard this before – the hard drive is shot. From experience, I will lose everything not backed up on my portable hard drive. I haven’t posted for a long long time so I may lose all that plus my photos. I chimp with the computer for 10 minutes and get it operational. Down to Suukyi to retrieve my portable hard drive. The download begins. When the last time this happened I lost very little. Spitfire computers told me that it may be retrievable. They would have to send it to a forensic lab in Vancouver. CAN$1,000 minimum and there’s no guarantee. It’s the same lab that the RCMP use. Probably 98% of their revenue. Good business. Taxpayer cheques don’t bounce. They perform their work in a clean room. I could not imagine what it cost to set up and maintain. Thus CAN$1,000.
The hotel boy did my laundry. There was a lot. The stench is infused in my dry bag. It’s rubberized. I learned long ago never to keep that shit in my saddle bags. The hotel doesn’t have laundry service so I had to give the kid (20-22) 20Rs. for detergent and a scrub brush. About two hours later he shows up all proud with a soapy bucket of clean laundry. He’s soooo happy. It’s there for my approval. I didn’t give him the kudo’s he was looking for. I woke up thinking about my actions, I fell asleep again, thinking of my actions. I’m like Jeff that way.
He brought up the laundry at 9.00 AM. Its air dried as it is everywhere in India. How in the fuck can this be dry? It is - except for my cargo shorts. That’s cool. I’m here for another day in a half. It will be dry by then and if it isn’t what can I do. I ask how much. He tells me 50Rs. 50Rs.!! Less than USD$1.00 to hand wash my filth!! I gave him 100Rs. It’s mostly socks and underwear. There is two pair of polypro t-Shirts I have sweated through for three days each. The t-shirts and socks where the worst. My underwear wasn’t too bad. Generally speaking I have always been pretty clean downstairs. Not as clean as Cara maybe. It’s her work outs. She is the freshest person I have ever met. I give the kid 100Rs. Even at 100Rs. This is four times less than what I would have paid in Delhi.
There is nothing better than country food, India notwithstanding. The food at the hotel is great. There is no restaurant at the hotel. They run across the four lane highway to retrieve. Prices? A full tandoori chicken is 310Rs. USD$5.00. I am done with anything tandoori.
The hotel kid really really wanted to go for ride on Suukyi. I wanted a couple of beer so I said I would take him. If I didn’t he would have had to ride his bicycle. I am assuming it’s got to be a couple of km’s as we are on the outskirts of town. He loved it. We went for a rip outside of town. Upon our return he wanted to know the speed we achieved. He was egging me on. I told him 120kph. We were in fifth gear. There was no way we were doing 120 regardless of what the speedo displayed. Where is that food? I can eat my chicken curry left over from last night but I can’t afford to get sick. Cara’s coming. I can’t have any down time. A little? - OK. A flat or a thrown chain? - OK.
It’s going to be a quiet evening. What the hell else am I going to do? Get dressed up and go down to the local hut to shake it up? Maybe pick up some locals? I think I will forgo that entertainment in favor of footie or cricket on the telli. That sounds more like my style. And writing.
Without access to folders and files on my laptop no one will be receiving a phone call. Except those whose numbers I hold by memory.
I am on page six and still no fucking food. The manager just came up to say Hi. “Namaskar Bhai, Cas Yai ho?” “Meh bhot tika you?” “Bhot tika”. Now that the formalities are over – “Where is my food?” “What food?” “The food order I gave to the hotel kid”. “I am not receiving any order”. Palm slap. OK, this is what I want… 20 minutes later the restaurant walla shows, “No mutton today sir. I am offer a couple of option”. Just in case my order is rejected. I bet with my last dollar, I receive all three orders.
I miss my cats so much!! Am I hallucinating or do I hear a kitten crying. OMG, I hope not. What can I do with a kitten? I suppose I could take her to madras in my coat. Pee and shit be damned. But then what there? A shelter? They are all kill shelters her. If there is only one thing that Rebecca taught me was the existence of no kill shelters. She sure was adamant on this philosophy prior to her becoming a Vet. Now she realizes that sometimes it’s required. I have had four beers and could not rescue myself let alone a kitten. I think it might also be in my head. Thinking of our girls.
Liza, my liza. I love this lady too much. Prior to my leaving Canada I always give the Vet my visa number. Anything, anything at all.
I think that if one of my ladies and the boy pasted - I would return to Canada. Liza will be the first one to go. She will disappear one day. This is her way. I cannot return for this.
Page eight. No food. I am still lucid and my writing is still perfect. Six and a half beer.
My weight is easily 180. I think I reported lighter in a previous thinking. I am so weak that at night after a couple of beers I nod. Heroin style without the euphoria.
My food just arrived and fuck me is it good. Chicken tikka. I want to write more but my food is calling. I wish they would provide napkins. If I were leaving tomorrow I would just use a towel. For now I am just going to be careful and lick my fingers. Right hand – left is for shit.
I am on page nine of the notebook. I need another notebook. This one is just about finished. I wonder how many I will complete before the inevitable. It’s a long mother fucking ways away yet.
I know I will need a chain. I have links and a chain tool but when a chain is done – it’s done. Cara and I will not be staying at one place long enough to have one couriered.
It just dawned on me I can have a chain couriered to the hotel where Cara will be arriving. She will be leaving from the same hotel. I have to leave some gear there – 8.6 Lbs of magnesium that incases faulty hard drive. Plus the non-sense Cara brings. She’s really good. She knows. This will not be our first rodeo together.
I didn’t finish with my feelings of Wendy – Ah, I’ll leave it for another day.
There was something I wanted to remember, what was it? Oh yeah this is a good one for the spectators. I told the manager the true cost of my riding boots. We were hanging in my room. 40,000 Rs. I have told this to a few people. This is not believed by anyone.
I just took a piss. As I do every day. Trice. I should mention something of the shitter/shower combo. This can’t be escaped from in as far as I can remember everywhere except the US and Canada. Annie had a nice set up at her pad in Panama. She had four geysers in one of her showers.
I know now I am over her and she I. Looking at my writing of her name makes me think.
Now that the laptop is finished the only way I can get emails is through an internet café. They are far and few between. They can be found a Xerox shops - some times. Jeff had emailed me an important document for me to print, sign, scan and email back to him. This was attempted - I had printed, signed and scanned it about two weeks ago. The guy at the shop said it went. Scanned to my email address. I had my hotmail open at this shop but didn’t wait to see it show. It didn’t show. I then asked the hotel if they could do it as he claimed to have a scanner. It was down. Now I am going to have to stuff myself into one of those breath smelling sweat boxes.
I understand the document. It’s not a ‘must do’. If it was, Jeff has 100 percent control and signing authority on any company where I am the president. This is sooooo important. Prior to the execution of my will business does not halt! I regularly update my will to avoid any ‘questions’ regarding my faculties.
I require a new notebook. I should have acquired one during today’s excursion. I was bent on beer smokes and matches. I forgot the notebook. As per.
I hope I meet Cara on the 21st. I schedule myself to be in Chennai for the 20th. She arrives, I think, 1:30 AM on the 21st. I have to go to the hotel kid’s house. I’ll leave on the 15th. This affords six days riding. We are about 680 KM’s out. The last 100 KM’s may take a day. I know Indian cities of this size. Tomorrow is the last day I can rest for a day. That’s cool, I can tough it out. Physically yes. It’s the tension! I just have to start earlier, drive later and take more breaks. This is my penitence for staying one more night in the costly hotel.
I just took a piss and forgot items I should have mentioned a few paragraphs, ago. Western style toilet. I find, in India now, is becoming the norm. Squatters are still everywhere though. I had one last night. I get a full movement out of those units. Love’em. If a person had bad knees, the elderly or heavy, they might find them, ‘uncomfortable’.
Another thing that seems to be the norm is TV! In the cheapies they have the old CYRT style. Any room over 500Rs. Has a flat screen.
I just had one of THOSE moments. They are very brief. Like de ja vu. It’s not a reflection of the past. I have to be feeling very very deep to recognize it. I scan the room. My boots, dry bag. Over on the bed, my petzel, book and glasses.
I am here. I am alone. Not uncomfortable. I relish it. The true realization the one is very alone - recognize where you are - look at what you have. This is your house for six months. I think the total volume of both bags is 115 liters!! That’s huge. It accompanies my current entire wardrobe. Plus I have a 65 liter dry bag. Its empty other that flip flops, shoes, rain gear and bike cover. Even then this shit amounts to 25-30 liters. The side bags will be at 75% pre-Cara - after the hotel drop. We’ll have room for her gear. Plus she only weights a buck ten. We hate weight and volume. I also told myself to recognize weight and volume this trip.
I don’t know how much more I am we be afforded [I hate using that word twice] to write when Cara arrives. I will have a person to discuss.
Mentally I don’t feel drunk. I just tried to stand. I have only had three and a half beer. Big. Strong, big beer. I think it resides around eight percent.
Water is always a concern. I currently have two and a half liters. That’s probably good until 2:00 PM tomorrow afternoon.
Discussing weights and volumes. What of Stephany and her bicycle tour of central America? I have met a lot of cyclists. Dempster Highway, Yukon to Yadvisa, Panama to Bogota, Colombia to Kathmandu, Nepal. This is core. However, the core of core was a guy I had met in Guwahati, Assam, India last year. He’s been running around the world for three years with two more to go. He told me he was in some magazine. Probably “outsider”. I dunno, I never did the research. I felt like weak and a fool for me to tell this man, “Oh, Yeah! Well I have a motorbike.” He was in his 50’s.
I am about 700 km’s out. I think four days. I will make 300 KM’s the first day 150 the next. I am going try for 100, on the 18th. This will leave me with 150. I don’t know where the highway is going to take me as far as entering Chennai is concerned. I may take me one day to pass Chennai and reach the airport 8 km’s south of Chennai. I sure hope there is a ring road and that it starts well outside of Chennai. I want to get an ‘airport’ hotel. They USD$50.00 but I need the convenience. I will certainly need the rest and Cara too would appreciate it after the flight knowing full well this maybe the last time we see a geyser.
December 14, 2014
Only 300 km’s from Madras and the only reason why I am here is because I am sick. When I left the last place I was fine. I stopped at a local chai stall that was 200m from the hotel. It was infested with flies. I had two chai and bought five cheroots for 1 Rs. Each. I have not seen these since Burma. I thought I saw an old woman smoking one a few days back but was unsure. Then I saw heaps of tobacco leaves on the side of the highway. I knew then. At the chai stall, auntie had a bunch of them in a bowl. They are mini cigars. Not so good. I bought them for souvenirs.
We rode about 120 km’s and stopped for more chai. I was feeling very dizzy. There was the equal amount of flies at this place too. I took chai and also had a veg-dosa. This consisted of two sleeves of onion wrapped in a dosa. It was OK. We rode another 40 KM’s and I was seeing double. So much so that when we reached the next village I had to stop. I needed a new notebook and had to hit an ATM anyway. Was so dizzy that when I stopped I could barely hold Suukyi upright and get off her. I stumble up to the first shop and asked if he had a notebook. “No.” He points down the street. I ride 100m down the street and focus in on an ATM. One eye closed. Now I am too fucked to get off Suukyi. I am on my tippi-toes (this is how high she rides), I cross my arms over the fairing and lower my head trying to fight off whatever has got me. We fall over into traffic. My first thought was that I couldn’t believe how hard my helmet hit the asphalt. Next - was to shut her down. I realize that my fucking right boot is pinned and my ankle hurts like hell. Normally when she’s going over I just get out of her way and let her lay down. In my condition I just sat there. At least 10 people came over to help her up. Everyone is concerned for me. “Yeah, Yeah”. I stumble over to the curb take off my helmet and start puking. This goes on until there is nothing left. I focus on a stone. Jacket off. I am sweating so much it amazes me. My arms are shaking not seizure shaking but I could not have held a glass of water. I noticed my nails need clipping. I need a new clipper. The one I have sucks. They’re cheap in the market - 5 to ten rupees. Now the dry heaves. By this time, because I am in a town, there are 30-40 people. Half watching me, half looking at Suukyi. This does not do anything for my internal personal standing as a weathered traveler. But I remind myself, “fuck me, this is nothing. Just a little sick is all.” Bind-dar-don-dat. Oh! How I love that movie. Some guy comes over with a bottle of water. It’s sealed. He had to have bought it. I reach into my pocket and pull out 20 Rs. I know this only cost 15 Rs. But I’m not into looking for a 10 and a five. He won’t take it. Good on him. An older guy shows up. He speaks English. No English or Hindi is spoken in these parts. He almost begs me to go to the hospital. “For what”? I think. “No no, just give me 20 minutes and I will be fine”. Then he points down and across the street and says,” You should maybe go there”. It’s a church. For some reason I found this extremely funny. By now I am fully aware. “No no, I give puja at a mandir. Vishnu and Hanuman”. Even if he had pointed to the greatest mandir ever created to Vishnu I would have found it to be as equally hilarious. At this time I am not in the condition to go to either a church or a mandir. Look at me! Look at me! I am sitting here, on a curb, wallowing in my vomit, dry heaving sweating so profusely that I’m sure my body is missing a half liter of fluid a minute and you want me to just get up and prance over to a place of worship? Why? Why? So I can defile that place too with my Biel. The whole time, from the minute I sat on the curb, I knew, I just knew the shop keeper whose shop I sat in front of was PISSED.
I start to feel better and I just want to get the fuck off that curb, on Suukyi and find a room. I get up and stand a while on the curb which sits eight inches above the asphalt where most of my admirers where situated. I must have appeared to be a giant. I am already a head taller than everyone. Giant bike, giant man. I stretch and yawn attempting to set the tune. I light a bidi – one of their smokes and go for a walk 20m up the sidewalk. I did not witness but I will bet my last dollar on that there was not one person in the entire town who did not have eyes on me. Oh yeah! I forgot. The cops showed up too. I told him I had stomach problems and that I would be fine and on my way in 20 minutes. He spoke English - lightly. He performed the head wobble dance and left. Two minutes later he returned with Suukyi’s Keys. I can’t remember what he said. When the cops show the crowd will always get larger. Good god. I feel good enough to leave. Actually I have to leave. The crowed is absurdly huge and slowing traffic on NH5. Soon the cops will force me to leave. Not crowed control, no no no, cut the cancer - which is probably the correct thing to do.
I get on Suukyi and we are off. This town has no lodging hotels. We ride to the next town. It’s a city –Vigayawada. Before we arrive I get the pleasure of one more dry heave session. She doesn’t fall over. I am at the curb. Now we are in front of a mandir. A couple of guys come out. They invite me in. Now I find nothing funny anymore. Even Will Farrell could not amuse me. I start to think that I really have to start addressing the seriousness of my situation. Prior to this stop it was just another day, another situation. Everyday there is something. I have been in this type of situations many times in the past. I am now am beginning to question my capacity to board Suukyi. One of the guys from the Mandir tells of lodging four point eight KM’s down the highway.
I my mind I call bullshit!! I have been described distances in India as being in furlongs. Four point eight! You have and EDM or what or maybe you did it old school – taped it out. The first came three point seven. I pulled in to a shitty hotel. I couldn’t get off. I was afraid. I was surly going to drop her. She doesn’t like that to much. There is never any damage in letting her lay down. BUT she certainly can’t get up on her own. So I sat there. Tipi-toed, arms folded over the fairing, head down. Thinking, “There’s no fucking way I am going to any hospital and leaving Suukyi to the vultures. This will not happen until we have 24 hr. secure parking and I could drive her there. It was not here. As I ‘rested”, a young gent showed. Because there was no crowd, he seemed cool enough and spoke English I tested myself and disembark. Success. We chatted. First of our travels then of Suukyi. This seems to be the protocol. He was an educated fellow. I mentioned I required lodging and pointed to the facilities next us. He points me in the direction of the nicest hotel in town and offers to lead me. This guy ain’t no backshish walla. He’s doing bhai a solid.
I hope I can show Cara a good time. She will come here bright eyed and bushy tailed. After a while India becomes normal to me. I guess how I would like to remember this trip is that it’s about the people. As I think of this there’s a shit eating grin on my face.
Ohhoo I forgot to write about my second stop the other day where I had the two onion sliver dosa. When we pulled up to the stall, I dropped her. I dropped her onto this guy’s chai type sitting bench that was loaded with coconuts. Oh fuck me. The matriarch [dad] looked at me from behind his pan tins like as if I peed on a linga. The whole family came over to help pick her up. Except dad. Like I had done the sin or sins - I knocked over his nuts. I was so apologetic. It was, I think, the most embarrassing thing I have experienced to date on this trip. Once up and off her I quickly started gathering the coconuts. They still have there shells on them and are small here. The son would have none of my appologise. He spoke a little English. He had worked in Singapore. His father, by now calm, mentioned he had worked in Dubai. I told them that I had never been to Dubai but I had been to Singapore 18 years ago. And even then I remembered it being expensive. I wanted to go into Raffles where the “Singapore Sling” was “invented”. I know I have written this before but I don’t want to forget it. I was turned away at the door and, at the time, rightfully so. I was backpacker. And looked it. I was so young. I think 29. Done the rigs for five fucking years. After that stint I got a tech diploma in civil. I was off to India thanks to mom and dad. First layover Singapore. Why not get off the plane for a while?
I learned everything from my father Dennis Victor Isfeld. People who I revere, revere my dad. Ron Tenisci for one.
My father taught me everything that I am today. If you work hard it will come to you. My father taught us to work hard and made us work for everything except skies that was cool.
Every family is, ‘dysfunctional’ - if anyone wants to put it that way.
Somebody bailed us out. Dad did tell me once but I forgot. I believe it was Rick. I have all the respect for Rick in the world. He told me once that my father and the other four partners of his crew when over to their accountants office once and my father was telling the accountant what to do. Rick had told me that after that everyone knew.
Rick put me to work. I was in charge of picking up booze from the liquor store. I was supposed to count the number of boxes as they were loaded into the van. I didn’t. They forgot one case of booze. It’s my responsibility. What can I say? It’s a whole box on booze. Rick told me it was gin. I think I was 19. Like my dad, I too was an alcoholic. I don’t know if dad was at 19 but I am sure he was by the age of 21. His step father was a cruel man. I think. I ain’t no fool. He was an alcoholic. Plus, us Icelanders have a liking.
I never took no booze. The next Sunday, I clean the bar on Sunday, I had two beer after work. Rick is not a stupid man. Inventory is counted now I am a thief and will always be so in his eyes. Yeah, I am guilty of drinking a couple of beer after work. I replaced them. I would have done and assumed the exact same as Rick if I were in his position.
There is more to write Oh! Yes! The discovery of why I suffer such head spins that make me ill. I wrote earlier, of my inability to acquire venlafaxine in Bhubneshwar. So I decided to substitute it with devenlafaxine. I had no choice venlafaxine was unavailable and devenlafaxine the nearest substitute. Before I proceed I am going to make note of the mosquitoes at my previous residence. I am littered bar-none. Some small, some big. The ones on my hips and armpits are the worst.
If anyone taking devenlafaxine experiencing any side effects such as blurred vision, seeing double, upset stomach STOP using the shit! I have narrowed it down to this. I was taking 200mg. They come in 100mg tabs. This coincides with the 375 mg of Venlafaxine that I have been taking. Two to one ratio. I realize that it’s a little more than I am currently taking but fuck it - more is good right? In some aspects of life. I read the side effects for some people. Fuck I am stupid. I took 100mg today. It doesn’t seem to leave ones system in a day so I am still a little off. What can I do. It’s like a bad trip, all you can do is wait it out - then what? I would sooner have this than depression. This too is unworthy. It’s a catch 22, keep with what you have and remain spiny and sick or stop it all and face the hell. My only option is to slowly wean myself off 200mg. Today I took 100