March 6 2005

The town where I currently am holed up in a hotel room (on par with Motel 6) has a main street that cuts through three or four blocks of shops which remind me of an Indian village in Uttar Predish--except this village has a nice road and nicer cars and fewer people squatting beside the road patiently waiting for an easy death and a quick rebirth, hoping to return with lighter skin, yellow hair, a US or Canadian passport and a merrier song in their curried cured hearts.