What the Fuck...? Oh well....Fuck It.

The title of this blog has become my Motto. I see things everyday that just do not fit into my frame of thinking, this forces me to expand and except. Both of which are good I think. I have to walk two blocks in the morning to the yoga shala. Within those two blocks their are cows that are turned out to the streets for pasture, ill tempered monkeys that raise their eyebrows up at you as if saying I would like to throw my feces at you but I just don't have to go right now. I saw a dead rat that was as big as a average sized house cat. The neighborhood milkman rides around on a scooter with open buckets of milk carefully balanced off of both sides of his scooter. Vegetable sales people on bicycle yelling out the fresh pick of the day. two shrines to two different gods right next to each other sometimes people are in their chanting or lighting candles or incense. There is a tree with shrines devoted to Adisious, who is the king of all cobras, the god Vishnu rode on him. Apparently he had a thousand heads, and chose to incarnate as a human named Patanjali. He is the man that wrote the first grammar books, health care book and yoga book. He's kind of a big deal. I have to cross one street with zig-zaging newspaper men that don't seem to have a pattern or a system at all, driving on the wrong side of the street often sometimes on the sidewalk. That is just my 10 minute morning walk!
I just had a conversation with a cute little girl that should probably be home at this hour, I think she lives right across the street. There are personal space bubbles here, and budding in line is not considered rude (unless I do it). The people here will just come up to me anytime anywhere and shake my hand, grab my biceps, lean over my shoulder and watch me while I am on the computer. All I can say is "What the F#@k," then "Well... F#@K it." The questions are always the same, "What country?" "What your name is?" "Are you married?" As soon as I say USA some will quickly say "Obama," Then I say "Obama" some I have taught the phrase, "Obama for your Momma, bitches," They really seem to like that. Specially down here in the south, because mama means uncle. Sometimes I get some funny looks from the English speakers if they over hear my impromptu "English lessons."

Love you all,

-Jim