I am sick again. For the third time. In two months. The first time lasted 10 days before I took an antibiotic. Normal Indian adjustment, yeah? Only it didn't go away. General cold symptoms, and delhi belly. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the combination of cold/diahrea was unusual. Although from speaking to other travellers that is quite common here. The second time I brought on myself three weeks ago: I cycled 40 or so miles on a single speed, in 100F heat, on shitty jungle roads, then drank to excess. Urak, which is toxic in ways other than alcohol. Who knows whats in it. Both activities NUKE your immune system, seriously and clinically measurably so. That may well have been Typhus. For three days and sleepless nights my innards pumped out the contents of my intestines, but the scary thing was that the cramping did not stop one I was on empty... having not eaten for several days. It kept going. I had to get up and sit on the toilet and just squeeze out... nothing. Nothing left. At one point the first bad night, I was kinda delerious. A friend got me antibiotics the next day, and I got better pretty quick. I rode 40 more miles about 5 days later. I took 1000mg Cipro daily for 10 days. Enough that it should have even nuked Typhus. Then again I did 40 miles. Then again. Yesterday I just sprinted around the village. Less than 10 miles, but all out. A sprint. I awoke this morning to serious shitting. Now the diahrea and fever have hit me again. I took tylenol, but I feel like shit. I have been eating Chicken and Fish, and that is going to stop. I actually pray that this doesn't get bad again. I can't take it. This is seriously fucking with my mood. Sick and sick and sick and all alone. Everyone I knew left for the monsoon. I'm out of here in a week, assuming I don't have dysentary (no blood yet) and am too sick to travel. Taking 3 courses of Cipro in 2 months is rediculous. My business plans have unravelled. All that would keep them going is hope, and that entrepenureal spirit... to pitch and pitch and pitch. Everyone is full of shit. Friends don't have drive, interest... they're ful of shit about business. This spirit... that I am shitting out every half hour. I can't take this shit anymore. God dammit to fucking hell, I've never been more healthy in years, quit smoking three weeks ago, quit drinking as well, cycling hard... sick as a dog 1/3 of the time at least. My friends in Atlanta don't reply to my emails. Apparently everyone is pissed I left, or has nothing to talk to me about if it isn't over a tall can of PBR. My intestines might not be up to India. What the fuck do I do then? I will not go home. There are people I love there... but that place is dead to me. As soon as I leave, its like I can breathe again. Portland. That is where I would have to go. I hear its nice there. Here's my plan: I'm sending this computer back to the guy that lent it to me when my iBook broke, after burning my files to several CDs and mailing them out, retaining one, etc. Then I'm going off the map for a long, long while. Up into the mountains. No contact with anyone back west. It felt like I had it together through this creative outlet... but its bust. And now I'm stuck with my inactive self, who rapidly spins webs of painful silk round the cavities of my mind, feeling betrayed, and shitty. I can deal with this... when I'm healthy. But I swear to god sick after sick after sick is just killing me emotionally. I really feel for Metallic Blue right now. I mean, I knew the risks when I moved here, but I had no idea. I'm just so fucking worn down right now, I'm too tired to cry. Maybe there's a book out of all this. Maybe thats why I'm freaking out. Literary technique. Its a Peyompian pity party. Indulge me. No, BEAT ME. Karma dictates that you must.