To be back is to be back, one must understand that. To be back is to keep in mind that used plates go in the bottom sink always, to be back is to have a class test looming at you, to be back is to have to suffer things. I'm not being archaic, it's the only word that fits. To suffer things that look so trivial in other frames of mind, things that are trivial but must be arranged into a scheme of things we do from day to day and therefore go through from 07:01 to 23:58 or whatever one's timeframe is. Things that are not nice things like fish swimming in a jar suspended from the ceiling, or a shop hoarding that advertises STD ISD PCO and cashews, in that order precisely. Ok, so this isn't happening, this descriptive stuff. I'm no good at explaining any more so here's what I did, I slept all through last evening and read bits of old magazines all through this morning. Then I made a list. I like lists, they've run me into trouble frequently in terms of content and time spent mulling over them but this list took two minutes.

Liked:

- Red rocks for embankments
- Aformentioned fish in jar hanging from ceiling
- Sambit being mauled by hungry dogs
- Propinquity of sand, even though it got tiresome later
- Bhutbhutiyas or whatever they're called, also tractors with Bhojpuri music blaring from them.
- Crabs, small or big or hidden or dead but crabs, fundamentally.

Disliked:

- Red rocks for embankments being cruel on skin
- Going into the ocean with scratches from the red rocks
- Having a mouth full of saltwater and sand
- TV in hotel room.
- Being told that I snore. But it turns out I don't. Screw the world. I'm Liz Taylor and Liz Taylors don't snore.

I've new music and just heard about Fu-Manchu. Tomorrow I go xerox The Gipsy in the Parlour and I can officially stay in my room till Friday. Maybe the father will agree to going away this weekend out of jealousy or grumpiness, there was visible glaring when I showed him this trip's pictures so maybe Good Friday won't disappoint. Otherwise being back is mind-numbing, tedium to the point of wanting a fly around so you'd at least be pushed to swat it away.