Grey squirrel

So, I'm a day into my three day trip to Goa. Currently I'm Satna, having just made a ridiculously expensive trip to Khajuraho to see a bunch of erotic temples. Fuck, I really am going to have to stop going to see temples. I spent about four day's entire budget just getting there and getting in. And what did I discover on an expensive trip to a well-preserved collection of temples? I discovered that one particular squirrel has it in for me.

Oh, and I remembered that ALL TEMPLES ARE (despite their differences) THE SAME.

It was nice being able to just walk around a pretty garden, take a few photos and do some writing, between bouts of gawping at buildings made out of ancient Indian chicks giving head.

So, on finding a nice spot on a bit of well-kept grass, I spotted a little squirrel coming towards me. "Hellooo there little squirrel. You're a cute one." I thought. "Gosh, you are bold. Look how you let me get so close to you with my camera."

So I took the opportunity to take some close up pictures of one of the more dull creatures I have encountered since my trip. I have been in close quarters with elephants, donkeys, camels, goats, a lot of monkeys, cows, horses and I have even walked through a densely populated forest where I was later told was tiger territory. I didn't see one.

My point is, what exactly made me so keen on taking photos of a squirrel? Ok, there is no rational explanation and perhaps telling the story is itself furthering the fixation of one of my more mundane experiences.

But having had my share of photos of an up-close squirrel I decided I had had my fun. "Piss off squirrel-o. What exactly do you want from me anyway? No, stop it. Get off my foot." I was trying to write a song dammit. Maybe it was nature's representation of what creative self-help gurus call your 'inner critic'. Maybe it was a cheeky fucking squirrel.

So I banged my notebook against a tree. I tried making a lot of noise (pathetic, truly pathetic). I was starting to get weird looks from women who were carrying large bundles of straw on their head. Gardeners. And you think you look normal?

I just couldn't shake the damn thing. It kept jumping on my bag. I had nothing in my bag of particular interest to a squirrel, unless this squirrel was a closet philosophy student. No, it wasn't. It was a pesky shit.

"Get off!"

Squirrels don't understand English. I'm starting to suspect they may not even understand Hindi. I wasn't thinking this rationally at the time. I was TRYING to channel some kind of creative energy to get some random string of sentences to make a rhyme.

Aww man.

It actually jumped on my leg. I took the opportunity to take one last photo - of an eager evil squirrel climbing aboard the bad ship Dan, before I grabbed my stuff and stormed off. Fucking squirrels.