Theres no money in poetry, but theres no poetry in money either
It seems the siberian snap that has recently hit Europe (very chriistmassy) has penetrated the subcontinent – heres a report from the Times of India
Panaji – the mercury dropped to its lowest this season as meteorologists recorded a miniumim temperature of 19.6 celsius on Sunday mornig.
I must admit, I had to turn my fan down a couple of notches in the night to keep out this unwanted coolness.
So me & charlie are back on the road, bursting the patnem pleasure bubble in the process. I’d had a lovely last night as the ‘scarlet woman’ with my adulterous lady friend. I thought better of going to se eher but she tracked me down & a lovely moonlight drive & walk along Turtle Beach ensued. She’s back in Holland now, read my blog http://blog.damowords.co.uk/ & sent me this email
for a man of words that wasn’t the most poetic rendition…
She was right -alright, getting laid & paid for DJing was alright, but at the end of the day it was still ‘work’ & I would have been tied down to it – & Im here to write a whole heap of sonnets. It was getting far too hard to concentrate down there, & even on the bus ride up to north goa I felt my mind tuning back into the poesis of this mighty land, honing my penmamnship, planning projects & organising notes. Its definitely time to stop pursuing pleasure & get on with the task in hand – iveworked out if I write some sonnets in Orissa – a good great britain away – & fiill in a few gaps elsewhere in India with wikipedia / lonely planet, I can finish mi Indiad in a month or so – just in time to try & get it published up in Calcutta – India’s most artistic city. Its taken me 4 trips to do write this poem, after which I wanna see the rest of the world, so fannying about doing a job in Goa is definitely not on.
Back on teh road our first port of call was Chapora – a narrow kind of texas style town with folk riding on in on their mopeds. Its mellowish by the day, but at night it comes into its own, with the bars knotty with half cut travellers drinking beer & smoking chillumgees. The clientelle all seem to be something out of Camden – lots of neo-punks & tattooes. There are some major long-termers here, whom on asking where theyre from, despite their thick austrian accent, reply ‘I am from nowehere’ – bloody hippies. The nicest part was the harbour, mellow with chilling fishremen & a few stray dogs, pungent with the smell of fish. where I meandered to last night. I found myself confronted by about twenty multicolourd fishing boats all flying the flag of India. There, I shook the hand of Raj, & found it as roughj as treebark. I sooon found the reason why – I helped him haul in a boat using thinish rope, which ripped my hands to shreds!
Its funny travelling with a fellow lancashire lad – on several occasions indians have interrupted our conversations with ‘what language are you speaking.’ I generally communicate with indians & internationalists with asort of high=pitched pidgeon English, which Ive perfecetd over the years, & find Charlie getting irritated with it & telling me to speak ‘proper english, like.’ He’s now in a great state of mind. Yesterday he wnet donw to Anjuna beach, got offered drugs left right & centre, & even tried some free ketamine, but his opinion is he’s not gonna pay those prices & ketamines dodgy anyway – mission accopmplished! Now its time to start adventuring & ive got my eye on a random trek along the krishna river, like some madcap Victorian exploreres in search of the Nile.
So we’ve just reached Arombol. I wa shere nine years ago & it was a wee hippy shanty town. Howveer, in the past nine yuears its exploded in shops & restaurants. The quality of goods is great howver, & theres a few places whehich specialise in sending your buys home via air & sea. The theme is generally arty ‘throws & bedsheets. At first I was a bit miffed about it, but Ive just spent sunset dancing to a load of bongo players on the beach, with about a hundred folk, & even jammed along on this guys guitar – very good for the soul. Weve got a well plush pad, pereched between a tai-chi school & a yoga centre, for 6 quid a night between us & can cook there as well – it helps when its only the brtish taxpayer who’s paying for the trip – i mean c’mon guys, what happend to supporting ya local artists?
14t / 12 / 10
PS – check this out – hes my alter ego in canada