hIrSch in India

hirsch-illo-fl2Our man hirSch has been riding around the world for a few years now. This is one particularly compelling blog post from his time in India. Yes, hirSch doesn’t use punctuation, he’s too smart for such formalities. To read the whole post visit his blog here.

it was sick green, not blue not black not gray not no other hue other than invalided green and when the sun that had just crested the gawdawful bleak and unbroken horizon was immediately swallowed by the clouds that green got more diseased and i was ill with it and i knew i knew and before it even began i’d experienced it which made the actuality (which was more actual in my head, actually) of the experience that much more dreadful (and fantastic) and the thing was it wasn’t just the clouds but the moon, yes, yes, the moon too eclipsefully swallowed the star we call the sun and that’s when it went, the hue changing so painstakingly slow it made you want chew off the very tip of your tongue, from green to black and then back to green again and at first it was only drips and it was enough to give you hope that it would stay that way but hope is a waste of time and there were flash cubes in the sky and buddha was beating his bass drum and the winds from everywhere all at once and i watched the filth rinse off me in rivulets and some of it pooled on my big toe nail and i kept pedaling past all those pulled over parked cars until the puddles were up to my pedals and i couldn’t go nowhere (and with everywhere to go)…

and i said hell and kept going anyhow until i found an old man tucked away in a cinder block shack and he had a stove in the corner and i said – tea? – and he said – yes – and waved me in and i stayed there for who knows how long and who cares how long because all life is is a stopwatch ticking and tocking until the alarm of death deafens you and then it’s too late and when you’re covered in a monsoon and wind-whipped leaves are plastered on your knees, those ticks and tocks don’t matter because you’ve got a cup of hot tea in your hand and as you sip it, the tea, which really is god, lets you know your esophagus and stomach exist because you can feel it coatingly trace these organs as it enamels them with a warmth that is nothing other than sacrosanct