India: The Roadtrip and the Army and the Shotgun Wedding

Now, I wrote a 1000 word article that I  thought I’d published on my last few days in Varanasi, but it is nowhere to be found, so whatever, let me summarise: I spent 3 days living for free in the basement of a temple waiting for the arrival of a mysterious man called Ricky who I was told was looking for people to split petrol costs to Rishikesh. I went slightly insane languishing in my basement with naught but a family of mice for company, but no matter. After I’d passed a week in Varanasi, Ricky arrived: a small Punjabi dude who has lived in Melbourne for 8 years, with a tattoo that says ‘such is life’ and a finely tuned moustache. And lo, you are up to speed. Continue reading

India: The First of the Inevitable Near Death Experiences

Background-Website-FinalEvery day in this country is insane and the further I travel the more absurd it gets. I love it.

Dave has been in Delhi this whole time, doing god knows what, and he messaged me last night to say he’d be arriving in Jaipur at midnight. I left a note with Sid at reception for Dave, telling him hello and that if he tried waking me I would fucking shank him. I spoke to Sid in the morning and asked if Dave had arrived, and he said yes, four hours late, and that they smoked hash together sitting on the floor. I said yes, that sounds very much like Dave. Continue reading

On My Eventual Death, etc.

1423c895332ed571061723b7e73e240e

Nobody likes to talk about their own, utterly, utterly, absolutely, hilariously unavoidable death. But I want to discuss it with you for a little while now because it feels healthy to be aware of it; to avoid hopping through life blissfully unaware of my mortality, one day to be smote by a falling tree branch and, my consciousness obliterated, rendered a floppy assortment of blubber and bone. No; I see you, Death. I see you there, hanging around with your head down and your skeletal fingers thrust nonchalantly into the infinite pockets of your ghastly black shroud, whistling and kicking celestial pebbles waiting for me to cark it. Yeah, I see you. Bugger off. Continue reading

Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 3, Paris

IMG_0145

Previous:

Drink, Play, Loathe – Day 2, Paris

Woke up at 3am because Aish, one of the Canadian girls, was talking in her sleep. Her mumbles continued for some time, then grew into tossing and turning, then thrashing, until at 4am she swung her legs over the bunk, dropped onto the floor, and sleep-sprinted out of the room in her knickers. Her friend Sarah jumped up and grabbed her, then must have remembered not to wake a sleepwalker, and simply followed her out of the dorm. I shrugged and fell back asleep. Continue reading

The Berlin Diaries -The Bärenquell Guardian

0wpCnWW

My girlfriend, who for the sake of her privacy we shall refer to as Maya (always liked that name), came to visit me a couple of weeks ago. She doesn’t live in Berlin, which has its ups and downs. On the plus side, the autonomy allows us the freedom to grow as people and not rely too heavily on each other, but the downside is the lonely nights, the constant, grinding heartache, and the fact I get laid but one weekend a month, which as far as I’m concerned is a violation of my human rights. On Maslow’s Heirarchy of Needs, sex may only come in the middle of the table, but listen to me: Maslow is full of shit. Continue reading