Did you know?

I just walked out of my office for a second. I need a breath of fresh air.

It occurred to me to ask, "do you know that trying to make a name for yourself on the world stage is very hard?"

All of those who read this probably know the answer. You all do. I guess that this question, the fact that I even posed it, is testament to how I could use a little more help than I have right now. I live on the surface of the sun, and trying not to sweat through the clothes that are my passport to important meetings. Like passports they only get you in the door, they are only precursors to the conversations that get you where you need to go. I'm nervous about loosing my Indian passport every time I turn off my fan to leave my room and start to sweat... but I am nervous about the conversations too.

I'm going to get back to work now. I'm going to keep calling these people, and sending them emails. I am going to call an air conditioned cab to get me to the meetings I set up. I can afford that. I can afford that here. There are other forms of air conditioning though, and I could use them.

I have thought a number of times about the bio-physical mechanisms of heat regulation that I learned in 9th grade. I can still see the diagrams from my text book. They showed a cactus, and tried to describe the cohesive and adhesive properties of the air around us. They tried to describe the thermal dynamics of evaporation and the effects of circulating air. It's almost amazing how often I think about these pictures.

I'm writing more emails to the major chambers of commerce today. I need to get meetings with all the industry leaders I can so that I may then meet with all the labor unions, and then I will start to travel. I have fallen behind. It's not too bad, but the next week has to be pedal to the metal time.

New question: does pedal to the metal count as slant rhyme? Its slant is so close that I have never thought about it before. Do we bastardize the phonemes to make an actual rhyme when we say it? Petal to the metal? Pedal to the medal? Do we say one with more frequency? Wow, the amount none of you care about this astounds me. You guys aren't reading this for stuff like that.

I'm in India. I just made plans to have dinner with the former Labor Minister who got me this job. I'm going to his house for dinner on Friday. I will gladly attend. I will also gladly pass up my friend's invitation to go clubbing that night. He's a former Mr. India, and he runs my gym. He's 34 and a consummate bachelor. Friday night is model night at a club called Urban Pind, and he wants to introduce me to, from what I remember, about five Indian beauties. He's organized a sort of exchange though. He wants me to introduce him to all of the white beauties. He has his cross cultural sights set. It would be a ridiculous night. It would be the kind that I only really liked once it was over and got to reflect on it. I am glad I'll be missing it this time. Maybe I'll go next week.

My grandmother took my request to heart and has started to call me more often. She has found out that I don't eat breakfast though, and I have a feeling that she won't stop asking about the big b-fast anytime soon. She asks about food and rashes. She asks about practical concerns.

I've started a new short story about a subtle murder plot of an unsuspecting American tourist in Delhi. I hope it will turn out to be very funny. Right now I just have the bare bones and the first paragraph. I'll try to share that first page soon.

It seems that everything takes me just a little bit longer here than it does back home. I guess I'm on Indian time.

I have a three part recommendation: I recommend that everyone come to India, that everyone have moments of personal discovery in an Indian metropolis for a month, and then watch Slumdog Millionaire for the first time. I don't know what it would be like if it wasn't your first time. It probably wouldn't spill over you like it spilled over me. You know that bucket I take showers with? Like that: orange plastic with day old water that makes what happens to football coaches look downright frivolous.

Back to work, I guess.

p.s. I still think the comics in the previous post are wonderful. Period hertz? Sheep? C'mon! (For those in the know, you should say that c'mon in a Job voice for full effect.)