My dairy, a life-line!

India, Kovalam,
15-04-1995.

Two days passed and I don`t remember much of them apart from a feeble and half hearted attempt to "ride" the waves again.

I didn`t get out of my room much apart from the necesary exits for food which I mostly took back to my room and ate inside.

I didn`t do much on this dairy either and have come to realise that this dairy, the stories I write down, the sketches I draw of the world around me the way I perceive it, the dates I put down every day, are my life-line to the actual realitiy.

Not the Indian Express that I usually read in the morning skipping over the dates and reading mostly world news only, though some local news stories can be hilarious, but mostly it all goes way beyond me.

Amsterdam where I`ll soon be...back home again....all of it seems way beyond me, maybe diving into this alternative hippy scene in India was not such a good idea after all.

I mean this is obviously more than just short time memory loss, this to my wesdtern trained mind, seems more like a complete back-out.

Shit, I`ve to go back to Mr. Bart Stokvis his Tae-kwondo dojo and work out like mad for the next few months after returning and hope that that will repair some of the physical and mental damage I`ve done to myself these last six months in India.