Day 412: The Ice Cream Prologue.

I realized today that all my problems are bullshit.

Every single problem, projection of conflict or illusionary precursor to frustration, is bullshit.

It all happened during my daily walk in the forest, a rather tropical experience that, without fail, calms me down immensely.

In a place where I should be calm and relaxed, I realized that my mind was once again hard at work constructing something, anything to bemoan.

I was actively preventing myself from accepting a very rare treasure, the feeling of being content.

Simultaneously solving problems by creating them.

Analogy time.

A chocolate sundae is simply Ice cream with delicious things on it, topped liquid chocolate.

A pretty simple gathering of ingredients that can be found even here in India.

A chocolate sundae is a thing that ancient people could not fathom, and until relatively recently, a un employed gypsy like me would never have access to.

Ever.

Against the impossible odds that I would even have access to ice cream, I will, without fail, critically pacify all that is amazing about ice cream, focusing instead on how I’m lactose intolerant and ice cream turns my asshole into a french horn.

Ninety percent analogy, ten percent real talk.

I will question the economic origin of ice cream, does it come from some evil corporation like Nestle, or two hippies from Vermont?

Who, yes sold it to Unilever, but let’s stay focused.

Then there’s the guilt of eating it, feeling like I broke something or disrespected myself, after I lick the bowl clean like a petulant Cambodian sewer dog.

This Ice Cream analogy is of course a metaphor, but I’ve literally eaten ice cream then took my garbage out.

At midnight.

Just so I could feel fresh in the morning, like the crime of eating two pints of Cherry Garcia was never committed.

That’s happened.

More than once.

All this to say, I have a problem accepting things as they are.

No.

It’s difficult for me to accept a situation, then move on.

I’m actually very happy, and content here in India.

Furthermore I’ve had many beautiful experiences during my time in Africa.

Yes, there were challenges, but I antisipted them, not specifically, but knew what my absolute tolerances were, I trusted I could handle whatever obstacle(s) Africa could and would create for me.

Including, as irony would have it, the obstacle of myself.

I also knew intuitively that after arriving in Morocco I would be in need of a healing experience, that’s why I chose to come to India.

Where once I felt suffocated by arrogance, ignorance and hypocrisy, I now feel like it’s all cosmic hands on deck to unfuck me.

India is doing what India does, and is healing me like I needed her to.

Sometimes I feel like the king of the hippies, y’know.

The shit I say.

Yes of course, there are frustrations, but they are so ridiculously irrelevant that mentioning them is a waste of our time.

Perhaps being around so many that do suffer from not having basic necessities has made me more aware of my blessings.

I don’t know?

But I am content.

When I can accept that Ice Cream is good.

And it’s ok to eat it.

It’s ok Bobby, eat that cheese cake too.

I’ve taken a long time off from writing here because I really couldn’t wrap my head around how this one thing, the lockdown, was pissing in all my corn flakes.

Q: All my Corn Flakes are soaked in old piss, why?

A: Because I don’t like to be told no.

That’s basically it.

When I hear no, my instincts fixate on a work around.

Great for a game of Catan.

Not so great for real borders and border closures.

Oh my God, I just realized I hustle real countries, like I hustle in Catan.

Because of this insight I decided to write a short story about how I would survive the contemporary imaginings of heaven.

Stay tuned for that.

In other more syncretistic news, today is my 108th day of lockdown.

For those who don’t know, 108 is a very auspicious number in Buddhism and Hinduism.

Today is also the lunar eclipse.

So, I think I’ll go for ice cream.

Maybe you should too!