Since coming to India I have heard—and spoke—more French than in years. Of course, it was very little in Dharamsala, as I was still feeling quite assailed and Korean was slipping out all the time. But today I spoke with a French couple for a while, and right now in the next booth a French couple is discoursing about times for their travel plans, and I understand a fair bit of it. Whee. As for my own travel plans, the bus-route to Fatepur Sikri is ridiculous, so I am going to catch a train tomorrow afternoon and sleep to Agra, …

Not to be confused with “Moron Gord in Jaipur”… ahem. Well, here I am. Last nigth at 4pm I met my pack of French friends for beer and dinner and then I caught a bus to Delhi. I had SO much stuff with me but it was fine because after all I was just taking it to the bus and then sitting for 13 hours. It all fit in the overhead compartment, except my big bag, which sat in the back of the bus. Now, that boded well for the bus trip, but assholehood intervened, to make the bus trip …

I’m in Jaipur, in Rajasthan. I just thought I’d let you all I know I got through about 18 hours of transport ni thye last 30 hours, just fine. Though the cab driver took me to the wrong train station and it was REALLY close for a few minutes there!!! More later, nice German guy waiting to go for food/beer with me.

The last few days have been weird. Two days ago I took a day off writing, because I was terribly mixed up and advancing the plot in ways that actually didn’t advance the plot. If that doesn’t make sense, then you understand exactly what I mean. So I wandered around McLeod Ganj and down to Dharamsala proper, which my friend Laura quite properly described as a busy, dusty little market town with no other real attractions besides a museum that was closed. I did, however, manage to buy myself for about $2US a little lunchtin thing, of which Myoung and …

Wandering is what I’ve taken up as my task for today. I needed some time away from the writing and noticed the power was out this morning, so I just got out of the house early and wandered down the hill. I ended up walking through the area where a lot of Tibetan families live, and saw the funniest game of cricket beng played by a bunch of local boys, including a teenaged monk in his monastic robes. I think I’m going to try to get down the hill into Dharamsala proper and get me one of those funny metal …

Yes, in a weird turn of events, I was casting about on how to out certain things that are going on in the background of my novel. I was frustrated, and flipping through a book by a certain Chomsky fellow (calm down, John Wendel, hahaha)and I arrived at the perfect character, except he’s a Kurd, and I know only enough to know that a Kurdish terrorist character would perfectly fit the weird turn of events that I’m writing into the background of my novel. He’s the guy I need to open up the third of three big bad things in …

I am so glad Bruce Sterling gets drunk and goes websurfing. The stuff he blogs when he’s sober is pretty good too. Go and see for yourself…

Yes, I named my Mr. Picassohead Creation after a Belle&Sebastian song. And now, so can you. You’re still really weird, Adam. In a good way. Put away that… what the hell kind of weapon is that, anyway? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!

I’m certainly doing better than I was yesterday. I ran into a bunch of people I knew, all together, and I really wanted to go out with them, but I was feeling so ill I warned them away, telling them I was sick sick sick and that they’d best stay clear. (Jerome, the French artist I know and see around once in a while, shook hands with me anyway, and I sternly advised him to wash his hand.) It was awful, awful, awfulawful. I took a taxi home though it wasn’t dark yet, and simply lay down and read one …

Adam, dude, you are weird. You posted a link to this on your page. Of course, that’s why we all think so highly of you. But you’re still freakin’ weird. (Applause.)