Karma Killa Cam-elion or Something (fuck you, this is a working title)

...however, Max (you know him if you're reading this, most likely) said that when he came here, he spontaneously shit blood for about a week and then was fine. The people he was with said that the blood was all the bad karma leaving him now that he was in India, and were dead serious in saying so.

It took me about a month to get the initial round of bad karma out, (I've been shitting better than I did in the ol' US of A for the last 3 days!) and now I'm back to generating more. I'm so efficient that I kill bugs on the wall while I defecate, just to make sure that bad karma loss doesn't turn me into a boyscout or something.

Remember how I said I was going to burn a stray dog? Of course you do. Well I'm not gonna. Instead I'm going to get better at kicking street urchins.

The problem with dogs is that they're too damn scary. I ran out of bottled water Saturday night at about 1 AM and I'd been drinking (booze) alone, so I was thirsty. Rather naively, I figured there might be a 24 hour store in the local market, where I could buy something other than escherichia coli juice. There wasn't. Instead there was darkness and growling, mangy dogs. During the day they seem placid enough and pretty much just lay around in patches of sunlight, scratching themselves. I've envied them at times. But at night they grow balls, and just the act of walking down the street (in the pitch black--no streetlights) was enough to set off every dog in what sounded like a two-mile radius. The ones far away barked, and the ones I walked by growled.

I made it to the market, glanced around just long enough to confirm that everything was the fuck closed, and sprinted home with motherfucking Cerberus on my ass.

The next day I went to the other market, with the rice-lice store, to buy expat groceries. I may have found a DJ gig there, too, but more on that later. Anyway, I'm taking this auto rickshaw back (they look like this, but dirty/shittier:)

and some filthy little kid leans in my ride to beg for money. Everybody who begs here uses the same voice, a sort of froggy Macy-Gray-smoking-George-Clinton's-crack vox where they croak "Helloooooo" or "Pleeeease." With the old ones it makes sense, but when kids try to pull it off it's just ridiculous.

This particular attack was two-pronged. On the left of the sideless vehicle is the ugly dirty kid, straight-up begging, and on the right is the cute little girl trying to sell pity and balloons. So I shake my head at ugly and say "No," but the fucker doesn't go away. I keep shaking my head, and then the little bastard (possibly literally) actually tries to reach into the rickshaw and grab one of my grocery bags. Like he'd even know what to do with that much food!

I kick my leg out and narrowly miss the wannabe thief, who was, to be honest, disappointingly slow. Maybe he didn't eat his Wheaties that morning.

Or ever.

Anyway, a tiny part of me felt awful, but most of me felt weak for being able to do no more than scream "get the fuck out of here" while he continued to stand there uncomprehendingly. I have to admit, I kind of wish I'd landed the kick.