The forces of entropy are strong outside of Colombo. Outstation devours technology and spits it out mangled, wet and out of power. However, Colombo does the same thing to the human mind, so you have to get out occasionally. Took a lovely day trip to Negombo. Sat around, drank bloody Mary’s (with Mary, incidentally), jumped on the trampoline, played poker. On the way back N’s car broke down, and then my battery died while, er, helping her. Which was actually quite fun, sitting around in the rain waiting for the car carrier. They have good 3G coverage in Ja-Ela. Above is a video taken from Colombo to Negombo, sped up about 8x. The song is ‘Monster Hospital’ by Metric (MSTRKRFT Remix). Negombo is not that far from Colombo, and infinitely better. Beach is too rough to swim, but it’s beautiful and feels better than the ‘monster hospital’ as it were.

In a group of 57+ people the probability of two having the same birthday is pretty much 100%. Hence the clumping on Facebook and the unclumping of my wallet. My mother and my dear friend share the same birthday, and I share the same birthday as her daughter. Yesterday was my sister’s birthday, and two of my closest friends. It’s not my birthday, but a friend got me down this Flip video camera from the Etats and I used it a bit. What’s cool is that from plugging it in to my computer to appearing live on YouTube takes about 10 minutes with the flip. What’s less cool is the absolute vacuity of what I upload. These are birthday messages from Asvajit and Deshan.

Speaking more French than Sinhala, I have no particular interest in this Sinhala Buddhist thing. I am Buddhist (try to be practicing), but I’ve never found a country more difficult to meditate in. I honestly don’t identify with the Sinhala as much as ‘Sri Lankan’. There is still a rarefied cosmopolitan existence if you can eke it out, in certain houses now, cause reality is creeping into the bars. That’s why it’s strange upon meeting a metrosexual friend to hear that he’d spent the day in jail – for being Tamil. I mean, he’s Tamil like I’m Sinhala. It’s on his ID, but he’s English speaking and dresses and talks like it. But he spends the day in jail, explaining why he’s not a terrorist, and hearing that his race is ‘poison in the milk’. Of his nation. I should say that’s not right at all. There were some flies in the milk and we tried to kill them with poison. Now everybody’s sick.

My camera is borked so I let a three year old play with it. Nothing to lose and keeps the character occupied for a good while. These are the pictures she took. I tried to teach her things like what button to push and to point FRONT TOWARD ENEMY. There is only so much you can teach a child who obviously has more power and authority than yourself. She spent most of the time with the lens determinedly pressed into her eyeball, taking pictures of her eyelashes and this otherworldly light. She’s also using this interesting affect of finger-in-front-of-lens, perhaps to show the ontological impossibility of ever taking a truly objective photograph. Anyways, some of them are actually pretty good.

It’s amazing how much permission you need, just to be a human being. Security guard, home guard, Clogard. Got kicked out of two separate places tonight, just trying to be a kid. I’m walking because I should not drive. Of course it’s roadblock city and no one can proceed in a straight line. Meander to Independence Square and being independent, decide to walk through it at two in the morning. It’s a lovely space, smaller than I thought. There’s a pathway of light and ponds leading to the University, a promenade I’ve never seen. Of course, forbidden.

My parents apartment has a pool, where I’ve never been. Finally went, albeit on a cold, rainy day. These are some photos from that particular thing. I’ve always like rain, and liquids. I remember sitting under the highway overpass in Ohio, just watching the weird shapes the water of the Scioto River made. I tried to draw it, but couldn’t. Just looked like a bunch of blobs. Water is always moving, almost animate. What’s cool is that you can simply point a camera at it. I like rain too, cause using flash into the rain gives you these lovely hexagons of reflected light. There are also a few photos of people in the water – it’s very strange how the liquid bends and warps the light. Anyways, here are a few photos.

So, my friend Mo has cancer. He’s done the first round of chemo, which was promising, and now onto the next. He’s in good spirits and the harem is holding it down. That said, chemo costs money and the only trees growing round here are social networks. Hence Mo’s friends are having a ‘Mo Better Blues’ benefit at Barefoot on April 27th. Triloka, the Barefoot Jazz Band, Southern Jazz Project and many more will be performing. There will also be an art auction and a Koluu auction (as a cook). This whole thing must make Mo uncomfortable, but then chemo is uncomfortable. What to do. Tickets are Rs 1000 at the door and all donations go to Mo’s direct medical needs. I feel like I don’t even need to mention, but Mohan Ariyaratne is a lynchpin of the entire scene as we know it. Music and entertainment wise this promises to be another fanta night at Barefoot, but it is also a very good thing. Everyone gets a handstamp worth 10 ‘pin’ worth of karma at the door, redeemable for one night of moderate debauchery.

March was a dead loss. Death of clowns (Anura Bandaranaike) and of prophets (Arthur C. Clarke). Counting my paycheck, mopping the floors. Meditate in the morning, just to keep my head from sliding off my skull. Walk past the warehouses in the hot sun – trying to stay awake, aware. When I’m paying attention I stretch my fingers out, trying to touch something. Just trying to breathe. Put one foot in front of the other. Down hospital halls and corridors. Nurses in their deceptive whites and unshaven legs. Dude operating the coffee machine, 30 bucks. Back up the stairs, and I know the way by now. It’s hallucinogenic, this toreador. Small room, but decent. People come and go, but the elephant remains.

Married women seem to flirt more. Their husbands hang around like desperate puppies, looking for a bone. The women just want to dance. White guys with foreign girls. Recolonizing the world, one vagina at a time. Fine by me. I’m sitting at the bar, feeling like a transie. Not a transexual, it’s a term I read somewhere about Obama, regarding people with transcultural, transient identities. In America you can be that, call yourself American, be American and run for President. In Sri Lanka you can’t. You can’t settle here and be Sri Lankan. People will always ask who your parents are, what you’re doing here. Even a darkie like me, people always ask when I’m going back. But I at least have my (expensive) paperwork, obtaining the same for a suddha is nigh impossible. They can’t become Sri Lankan, can’t buy property, invest, work, etc. I know people born here, people living here for 20 years – waiting in the visa line. I object on one level cause it’s patently racist, and on another cause it makes the country weaker. I’ve been egging my suddha friend to say that he’s Sri Lankan, cause he is. The girls laugh and don’t believe him, ask where he’s really from. Keep asking where, keep saying Sri Lanka. Gets awkward.

One of my favorite things about Sri Lanka is the trip. I’ve never been no sheep for traveling, but it’s grown on me. There is such a diversity of climes, houses, waters and foods outside Colombo that you have to get out. Not to mention that Colombo is a physically dull city and my relationship with her is more of an arranged marriage than anything else. You know, makes the family life easier and necessary for the career. That said, I don’t really venture beyond the suburbs. Thalawathagoda, Bolgoda and Hikkaduwa (effectively). Hiks is rained out, Trinco is bombed out and Arugam Bay is back in the warzone. While it’s a huge shame that the beautiful East and delicious North are off limits, there’s still a lot of stuff within driving distance of Colombo. Negombo and Hiks for two, though this Poya we went to someone’s house in Bolgoda. Lovely pool. Frogs. Etc. These are just a few photos.