November 08, 2004

My Visionary Indian friend is looking for an apartment. He needs a place where he can hang his pictures and dance in his underwear all day long. We drove through the city looking at behemoths of concrete, the wind chilling our bones. Now he has a career, a car, order in his life, and I’m secretly envious. He’s only two days older than I am, yet he seems more deeply immersed in reality.

We tired of reality after a few hours and went to see a movie about Che, ideals, and a motorcycle trek across a continent. Unreality still feels pretty good, we decided.