My angst is a screwed up bitch in heat and unable to find a mate. I have made many wrong choices in life and I am suffering from that fate now. My fate is that of the myth of Sisyphus rolling a boulder uphill, to find that it has rolled down all the way again. I am an existential nihilist in perpetual angst. Is there a sense in the world to make a meaning? Life’s experience pollutes meaning to a chaos. Art is the only door to sanity. While writing this my asshole is itching; goddamn it. I have to scratch it with Picasso’s cubist brush, my finger. Yes, I have made many wrong choices in life. I got a chance to join an International School in Cambodia. Twice I said I will join and twice I did not go. I curse my gut. I have asked the school authorities if they can accommodate me the third time. They said I have to come to Cambodia. Goddamn it! I am shit broke here. I find it even difficult to buy an extra packet of cigarettes. How the fuck can I go? If I go, I am confident that I will get through the interview. May be I can win a lottery to meet the amount. Is the Goddess of fortune shitting when I wheedle: ‘luck for me’? Why can’t fate be a humane person? The problem of teaching in Indian International Schools is that they pay you only a lot less, grossly miserable when compared to International Standards. I have taken a lottery today. I hope I can at least win the second prize. With that money I can make it to Cambodia. I can earn money, write and travel. This is what I am meant for! Booze! I haven’t touched the fucking thing for ages. I am caged like Kafka’s trial and the castle. I need to liberate my being from thorn of being exiled. India, I am never happy here. I have no mother land and I don’t consider mothers to be sacred. Sex! You have been a ritual desert for me. Why are you foreign and alien to me? My nihilism is all fucked up. I prefer my Father to my Mother. But poor chap is sleeping eternity. He Hellenized me. I, as a post-modern belong to all nationalities. I have a white mind, a black soul and brown body. Ontologically speaking I have deconstructed my religion. Religiously speaking, I am Gentile Jew, a disgruntled Christian, an atheist Muslim and a materialist Hindu. I am an amalgamated macrocosm of nationalities and races. I don’t mix into a culture but I mix cultures. For example, I am so happy to write Haiku and Tanka which I got from Japanese culture. I love the eroticism when signs copulate. Language for me is a passionate poem of making love. I am always entangled in it and copulating. There, now, writing out my angst gives me relief. Disappointment has disappeared into a fissure. I am writing a novel. It is highly experimental. Time in it is not linear and reverses backwards and then again goes forward. I am trying to paint words and write melodies of music.