I nearly drowned in April 2023 at Morjim, North Goa. Here’s my slightly caramelized account of the whole experience. I have divided it into 6 chapters.
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Do you ever feel you want to wake up next to an airplane crash? For the longest time, I dreamt of waking up in my hostel next to a commercial plane crash site. In fact almost 30% of my dreams in my college involved an airplane nose-diving in an adjacent hotel and in almost 60% of them I’d leave the space in time, whereas in 40%… well, let’s just say, they found the black box up my ass.
Do you ever hope that a dull street be spiced up by that cunt of a biker sliding and crashing into a car?Or Do you ever secretly wish to see those over-enthusiastic athletic long-distance runners to collide into a tree? If yes, you have found a mate in me!
From hoping for a boat to turn over, to secretly wishing for the girl on top of the bar counter to break her heels and fall, I can be slightly malevolent sometimes. This is not because I get pleasure from pain, but because I just sometimes desperately want a break from banality.
My easy life is obviously a factor in all of this. I suppose, a life of privilege often predates macabre frivolities. In all likelihood, artists who have not had a dogged life generally tend to have a darker and dimmer view of it. They are more casual with the finality of things. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Nietzsche had a nanny growing up. I know for a fact that Emily Dickinson came from filthy money.
These are just a bunch of indifferent snobs stuck in a dull, and sad philosophy. However, the concluding thought is simply this — the people most romantic towards death are the ones who have been away from it the most.
Before I get too Nolan about all of this, lemme hit the gas to my tale…