oh, what a night

I'm in the lovely hill station of Nainital where the weather is cool, the newlywed couples don't touch each other and punk ass kids call me a motherfucker in hindi and then bolt. I'm a day or two ahead of the march because I came here to get writing done.

I spent last night about 100m above the lake that the towns center on. I find the only level patch of ground after an almost complete walk around the lake. The stars shine above me as I read Seven Years in Tibet and ready myself for bed. Part of my careful planning (OCD), I have a very strict system before laying down to sleep. Wallet and passport go to buttoned pockets on my leg so these most necessary items don't dig into me while I sleep and my switchblade gets clipped to a lower pocket for easy access. Everything but my shoes pack into my bag which I use as a pillow. That way, I am 7 seconds away from being able to disappear with everything I own in case of rain storm, animal attack or the most common, particularly aggressive women looking for a green card. They can smell American passports.

Tonight, a rain storm arose but the drops came so infrequently that it felt refreshing as I drifted in and out of sleep. Around three in the morning, I wake up to loud bolts of thunder. Lightning frequently lit the sky but the jagged lines stay hidden behind the thick clouds. Instead, the skies light up with a gentle diffuse blue light, illuminating the lake below me and the jungle vegetation around my mountain bed. I gaze on this tranquil sight for a few minutes until sleep overtakes me again.