Die Smelling Good

In my iPod: Four Rusted Horse - Marilyn Manson
[download]
State of mind: slum
Location: Bhopal, India

I fucking asked myself, what the fuck am I doing? I am supposed to be backpacking around India; yet, I have been grounded in Bhopal for the pass seven days, vigorously doing shit that equals to nothing. The only thing closest I got to the role of a fucking tourist is seeing some tit-like Buddhist monument 46kms away from town. I don’t know if you even consider going in a shopping mall that looks actually like the ones in my home town (minus the curry scent) to get junk food as my daily staple an act of tourism?

Yeah I knew I was half-assed sometimes but I think this time I might have just lost it. I feel completely like a pile of useless thrash with no sense of direction. I think I have lost my wanderlust; my fucking need to fucking travel around to desecrate foreign places and de-virginize foreign vagina have gone flat and dead. All I fucking do all day is sip Slurpee and bury my fucking face in a huge pack of potato chips while watching the old F.R.I.E.N.D.S. series in my hotel room.

The beauty of being all alone on a trip with has no time limit is that you have no fucking one to tell what the fuck you should and shouldn’t do. But the fucking down side to it is you sometimes get in too deep into it and there is no one to give you a fucking nudge you or to save you from sinking deeper into that shit hole that you are in.

Yet another perk of being alone is that you can fucking continue to ignore whatever damage and destructive shit you are doing to yourself because you couldn’t fucking careless; It’s like suicide but this one instead of feeling pain , you are bloody enjoying yourself doing it. The only time you will regret is when you realized that you‘ve turn into a rotten decomposing corpse that was only discovered a week too late by those staying next to you because they couldn’t stand the smell that is coming from you anymore.

Fuck man, are you fucking outta your mind? I wouldn’t wanna die and be let there to smell. If I going, I am going to die smelling good; so I gonna wear cologne 24/7 from now onwards, even in my sleep.

Not only am I falling apart but I in dire need of a manicure…

P.s. I was suppose to write something that has been bothering me for sometime but I think I got sidetracked or maybe I haven’t kept it in me long enough yet.

xniquet's journey across India

Look Downwards If You wanna See Me

In my iPod: 15 - Marilyn Manson
[download]
State of mind: broken
Location: Bhopal, India

When a blogger says that he or she has a writer's block, that doesn't necessary indicate a bad thing. In fact, I wished I have one because that would probably mean that my head is empty. Nothing is troubling me. There isn't a maelstrom that is stirring inside my soul, my mind is at ease. I would be fucking spared from a million morbid thoughts floating around my head; my closet would be free of rotting skeletons and for once I could close my eye and with nothing in my head, go to sleep and wake up in the morning without re-living my past hell in a nightmare. But that sadly that isn't so because then I wouldn't be up at this fucking hour of the night bearing my withered soul…

I do not share the luxury that most of you have, that is to have a peaceful sleep at night. When you have been through so much shit in your life, the stain of sadness, remorse and hatred would defile you for the rest of your life. I am like a wet painting that has been molested by the shit of this world and now I am smeared, smeared for the rest of my fucking life.

A lot of you asked me why India? Why of all places and why alone? One of the reason, I have given in one of my post just before I left and this is yet another rationale. I am here because I am trying to runaway from everything that I have once loved.

To feel a million miles away from everything that has make me what I am today. Yes, I am running away from the overly promoted day where you celebrate the one who gave birth to you; I am running away from the thought of the date that I proposed to her; I am running away from my matrimony anniversary of my dearly departed; with birthdays, anniversaries and other day of rememberance that are coming up, I am sorry I don't think I am that strong to be able to stay on and be surrounded by the things that constantly remind me of my fucking lost.

You are right, I am running away from all of these that cause me pain; and if there is ever an edge of the world you will see me there, but for now, India would have to suffice.

20 more days to your birthday and I am already feeling the agony of lost inside of me. My nights are filled with my favorite dreams of you that will only leave me a broken and torment man in my waking moments. I thought being away would ease this pain yet my melancholy has reached new heights, my requirement for painkillers has risen, my alcohol dependency has peaked, my suicidal tendency has never been so high and I am at the lowest of low in my fucked up pathetic motherfucking life.

If you think you are already at rock bottom, take a look downwards and you will see me there.

xniquet's journey across India

Twisting Tits at the Great Stupa of Sanchi

In my iPod: Devour - Marilyn Manson
[download]
State of mind: a whining bitch
Location: Sanchi, India

I woke up today feeling like what I have always been feeling since day one I landed here; I felt like a great ball of surge filled with the energy of a thousand enthusiastic zealots that have been completely extinguished; I give new meaning to the phrase “a tub of lard”; I was laziness's eldest sibling - sloth; “Procrastinate” is my middle name and I have been doing something that is equal to nothing in this place they called Bhopal for 4 days. Apart from burrowing inside air conditioned rooms, eating, going online and sleeping. I pretty much achieve nothing. Some great backpacker I am huh?

I convinced myself that if I was to continue doing what I was doing, I might as well stayed back in Kuantan. So today, I just had to drag my ass out into the outside world and see what the fuck this Bhopal has to fucking offer. And so it was during breakfast while having some good Chaat ^[1], I found out that just about 48kms away from this fucking place, there is a village called Sanchi which is the home to one of the world's ancient heritage – the great Stupa of Sanchi.

FAQs (things that might fucking cross your mind right about now…)

Q: So what the fuck is a Stupa?
A: A fucking Stupa is a mound-like motherfucking Buddhist structure, in other words it is shape like a fucking dome or a woman's breast to be precised.

Breast-like Buddhist monument

Q: So what the fuck is inside this breast-like Buddhist structure?
A: The Buddhist believes that these breast-like structures contains Buddhist relics, typically the remains of a Buddha or saint. It is worshiped and considered as a sacred place by the fucking Buddhist.

A Buddha that needs head …..HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…(OK, lame I know)

Q: So what is the fucking deal with the Great Stupa of Sanchi?
A: to be honest, I went there saw it and I still don't know what the fucking deal. But since the UNESCO has consider it as one of the ancient world's heritage, it must be a fucking something. To be frank it is not every fucking day that you see stones arrange and form into a women's breast and the artistry on it is simply marvelous.

But the highlight of the trip must be the nude chic on these structures. Since I am already here, there is no harm doing a little titty twisting right?

You know I am not the guy who loses his cool easily but it pisses me off when I was sun-drenched and had to fucking wait for almost 1hour 45minutes under the fucking heat for the bus to head back to Bhopal. Yeah, it may seem that I whine more than I am enjoying myself but that isn't the case. I whine simply because I don't wanna be like a generic tourist blogger who fucking sucks the cock and throw praises about the place that they have been, making you feel crappy because you are sitting in your 3 x 3 cubicle with your fucking neck tie choking your neck while reading it. Hell no, I don't suck foreign dicks; I'll give it to you straight up without sugar coating the fucking facts.

Inside a non-AC mini bus: traveling back to un-civilization in style

My verdict is: I must say my trip to the great Stupa of Sanchi is definitely a once in a lifetime experience because it made me fucking get out of the hotel, paying RS 75.00 for the 1.5 hours hellish mini bus ride, just to see some fucking stones monument shaped like breasts. Why I say it is a once in a lifetime experience? Because I vowed to never come back again, fuck it. I am sorry even though it is a really beautifully crafted monument of the past filled with the great work of artistry but it is still not really my kind of thing. Give me something outrageous or something that has a totally morbid story behind it, then I would probably go down on my fucking knees if you want me to suck it.

Update: Moments after I fucking got back to the hotel, there was a fucking blackout and half the town is in darkness. Fuck, I am tired; I am hot; I am pissed and I can't stop whining like a fucking bitch.

FOOTNOTE:

^[1] is a generic term for a plate of a tangy and spicy snacks with an assortment of flavors all mixed into one - which I might blog about later.

xniquet's journey across India

Whatever Doesn't Kill You is Gonna Leave a Scar

In my iPod: Into the Fire (alternate) - Marilyn Manson
[download]
State of mind: Scarred
Location: Bhopal, India

Judging from the fucking title, you can safely assume that I have been listening a little too much to Marilyn Manson's The High End of Low. But when it comes to shinning my idol's ass, I cannot talk too much or too highly of him. But I am just going to spare you about Marilyn Manson's new CD that is due for release on the 26 May 2009. How I got this soon to be release album has a lot to do with the beauty of the internet and the people who is always thinking about others like me; a kind Samaritan has bought the pre–released CD, ripped it, placed it on file sharing site and spare me the eternal wait. Alright already, enough of Marilyn Manson; from now onwards, I totally give you my word that this post isn't about licking his ass and how awesome his new CD is.

You fucking know what, I think India has finally taken its toll on me, even though I may be diarrhea free (for now) but my fucking face is starting to show. I can't pinpoint to what directly contributed to my facial rape but I think everything sort of add up cumulatively in a gangbang way to leave my face as it is today. Fucked up complexion, gigantic and visible pores, chicken pox like tiny red dots all over my fucking forehead are some of the fucking symptoms that is plaguing my fucking face at this moment; the main one is the side of my nose; they are so fucking red that one might assume that I was using some red tone blusher to make it rosy. Fuck! Initially, I wanted to fucking blame it on not bringing my Miracle water product along, but come to think of it, it is not that. The fucking heat and amount of dirt and crap in the water here have also play a fucking good part but to top it all, I think my act of going full circle and taking a fucking dip in the world's most polluted river has sealed my fate. So yeah, I totally screw myself over and I have no one to fucking blame but myself. Yeah, go ahead, you can fucking laugh and give me the "I told you so" speech but it doesn't change the fact that I was in the Ganga and you was not!

I was so not in the fucking mood that I totally left my eye brow unattended; with a complexion like this, I wouldn't give a fuck if my eyebrow grows into a fucking bush and join in the middle. Fuck! It is days like these that I wished that it is common for a guy to carry a compact to cake up some makeup and not being look at as a fucking queer. But did I tell you that there are another 7 tracks extra if you purchase the deluxe edition of Marilyn Manson's New CD the High End of Low; which totally makes sense to do so, because the best song in the lot is found in his bonus disc. Oh, I did thought about going to get some facial done on my last day in Varanasi but with a sign like this, I would rather take my chances on just letting it be.

I left a day later than I intended because I was feeling rather frail and weak and I don't think I could go through the ordeal of being cramped inside a curry scented train compartment jammed packed with hundreds of sweaty motherfucking Indians again. So I booked a flight the next day to Bhopal. You know apart from being call the City of Lakes because of the natural and manmade lakes that surrounds it, I am not really sure what Bhopal has to fucking offer. I was told to head here first before Mumbai. So I guess I just need to open my big fucking mouth and ask around in order to find out what's the fucking deal with Bhopal. But first things first, I needed somewhere to lay my ass down for the night. I thought I would slightly pampered myself this time round; so instead of going to the cheapest hotel or inn, I opt for something a little more comfortable and comes with a clean crapping throne, so that I do not need to shit standing up.

So my favorite track to Marilyn Manson's The High End of Low is "Into the Fire (alternate version)"; anyway, back to less important things, as you can see (below), even though it may not be Hilton standard but it was much better than the last 2 hotels I have been in. The totally fake tiger skin print decoration on the wall does gives it an exotic feel but it totally clashes with the bed that comes with it. As a matter of fact, the fucking bedsheet looks like someone's Sarong. Fuck! It fucking feels queer to sleep on a sarong, especially one that looks like it was worn by a guy.

Oh…Did I tell you that you can read my review on Marilyn Manson's new CD HERE... On this part of the room, I think it is a total mismatch; rags and coffee table that could easily be passed as furniture from a 2 star hotel but they had to fucking use plastic chairs. They should totally fire or sack the room interior decorator of this establishment.

So here I am, a man without any fucking conviction or idea as to what and where am I suppose to do and go tomorrow. But you know what, it ain't all that bad, at least I don't have any fucking expectation on what to fucking expect; so I'll let this be a little discovering trip. So I beseech you to stay tune as I blog more about how totally awesome Marilyn Manson's new CD The High End of Low is and maybe if you have more time, you can also read up about what I might totally get myself into here at Bhopal.

Long Live Reverend Manson!

xniquet's journey across India

Going Full Circle at Varanasi

In my iPod: Last Of The American Girls - Green Day
[download]
State of mind: at peace
Location: Varanasi, India

It's been more than 10 days since I set foot on this wonderful yet esoteric city; I am constantly in the state of open-mouth awe with the lifestyle and culture of this place. Even though I didn't meet anyone or make any friends but I think I have a special relationship with my morning Chai Wallah. I have become familiar with the narrow and winding streets here; I have come to love the colorful painting on the buildings and wall; I am accustomed to the practice of peeing on the wall; I am tolerant to the foul smell that comes from the river Ganga; I am used to the burning scent of human flesh burning as I see towers of smoke raises up to the sky; I am at peace that holy Braham cows that has a higher status than the human outcast workers at the Burning Ghats; I am immune to the food and drink here that holds traces of stool because it was prepare by the water from the Ganga. Some may take a long time to recover from the culture shock that they experience here, but for me I think I may never go back to the state of on how I perceived Indian buggers to be before I came to India. I think they are a bunch of cool curry fuckers and I am proud to be amongst them.

I may not have been here for 10 days if I haven't got sick, but as a vagabond, it is time for me to move on to my next destination. I doubt I would ever come back here again therefore there is still one more thing that I am considering of doing. I have been told, I have read about it and I have witness and smell it. Many have asked me not to go in the river Ganga, the pollution rating is millions above the safety level for a human being to be in. So right now, at the eve of my departure from this city, I asked myself am I going to risk my health and jump into the river or deal with the feeling regret of not doing so when I have the chance.

Fuck that, I am going in.

If you know me well enough, I am a person who would rather live in the moment than stay behind the do not cross line and watch my fucking life passed by. Shit, if I was there when the 2003 Tsunami hit, I would have taken my surfboard and rode the fucking wave and met my end. But I have to admit I do have fears because I didn't get any proper sleep last night after I have made up my mind to jump in the Ganga. The images of floating excretion and human body parts floating around me as I was in the river keeps replaying n my head. But when the morning comes, the feeling of excitement overcame my fears.

I try to block out the thought and smell of shit, crap, feces, stool, excretion, ordure, faecal matter and also the morbid images of bodies being cremated then cast inside the river as I slowly walk down the Ghat; I dipped my feet inside the river and it actually felt good.

From there it was all mind over matter as I walk deeper into the murky waters of Ganga; I took a deep breath and I immerse fully into in. It reminded me of my baptism, as I slowly walked in my church's baptism pool which was of course feces and corpses free. There is definitely spiritual about this, when I walked out from the water, instead of feeling grossed out, I felt strangely uplifted. I may sound like a fucking pagan to you right now, but there must be some mysticism in there that gave me peace like I have never felt for a long time. I look at the faces of the people around me, they are peacefully calm and euphoric like a Hindu cow and I bet I carried that fucking grin on my face too. Despite what they say about the filthy pollution of the Ganga, being more heart than brain, I went full circle here at Varanasi and I don't think that I live a day with regret in my heart for bathing in the world's dirtiest river.

But for a moment there, there was a tinge of remorse when my hair felt like it all was glued together, but there was nothing that a shit lot of conditioning shampoo can't fixed.

It's my last night here in the city which I have come to love; I will try to make the best of it tonight.

xniquet's journey across India