Goa, India. December 6, 1997. Any day now, the season's about to start....moon months of acid, Thanatos, Eros, drug-busts, pure ecstasy, synthetic blips, trance, smack and moonshine. Any day now…. "I shouldn't be telling you this," whispers an English DJ from Birmingham, close to Goa's hidden workings, "but we're in for roller coaster and there are no valleys, only peaks. We have to wait however, cause the local kids are taking exams and the authorities do not want a load of fucking drug casualties stumbling about, It'll put them off their schoolwork." …we would not want that would we? to disturb the growing economic nightmare, sorry, tiger, from its studious grazing…
The build up to that first party is hyper-tense…that first kick off land is awaited by all with trepid tremors. The beaches are so womanly beautifully smooth it’s a crime to look…hard to breathe, humidity so dense it could cut a knife…at last, release: "a moon party…Monday”….
”Vita Femina” , “Life is a woman”, as Nietzsche would say, maybe he was thinking of Kali the four armed skulls wearing blackness, the Indian Goddess of annihilation and destruction, hence, of creation and life affirmation. Shiva is never too far behind, waiting in Kali’ blood stained shadows…
…"It's bad for Indians to see such things" says a middle-aged Indian smoking Ganja in a chillum…talking about blackness… this is the finest blackness in the world mmmm…
"You westerners think it is so easy, so spiritual, come here and you can live well for just a few dollars. On what you would spend on just one meal in your own country you can live for months here, what any Indian would die for, you waste for. You do nothing but waste energy …ok, hook me up to the national grid, or whatever the Indian equivalent is, if they have one… he continues, among puffs of narcotic smoke…just breathing it is already inhaling the madness of the gods… "You take too many drugs it's a bad example to India. It's not a good thing for upcoming Indians to see this much liberation"…liberation, or is that waste…aren’t the two synonymous?...
…there's a cute Indian girl hanging and talking with the western party travellers. She has just finished an MA in software engineering…how fucking original is that!.....from Delhi University and is taking time out to travel up and down her Kali-immense country. She wearing tight Calvin Klein denims, a purple “I’m an innocent slut” T-shirt…or something to that effect, well that is the west for you…did I say marketing…another thing to try for India’s starving masses... and high-hell sandals…is that not a contradiction in terms, fashion is cruel, stupid and effective, they all want to belong…and carries designer Gucci label baggage. Most of the hippy party goers…no I’m not a hippy, kill all hippies, haven’t you heard of punk, Kali’s anarchy in the universe…the spiritual ones, annoy and irritate her, because they only want to see the old India, the ancient places, they don't have time or curtsey for India’s evolving computer…hey Bill, there is an Indian up your arse…..film Bollywood here I come… banking, investment…ehh ehn oh a no comments…fine arts…hard to stifle a yawn, how boring…"I like the parties," "It’s fun, wild, good - but it’s weird also. It's somehow too easy down here, too wonderful a fool’s paradises were all that glitters is not gold…what if it was…ok…silver will do…
….however, for us, it’s the package-charters who piss us off, we contemptuously dismiss them as hedonistic pimps, 'two weeekers' without grace or excess. Two weekly-weepers of booked returns invade the land of sweetness and light…
…this coming party, like many others, is for the Goa’s aesthetes: those holy graces that stay for months, roaming from hole to hole, and don't have regular lives-jobs back home…
The kind of people who are prepared to die for a gram, a pill, a kiss, and yet, somehow, always make it to the end, no doubt because excess is a sacrificial duty here. The moon and white beaches of Goa don’t ask for less. You have to earn the respect of Kali and only excess will do: burn…burn...burn like the thundering flames wavering in the distance, where all night/day the Hindus burn their dead on crackling pyres, filling the night with the acrid smell of burned flesh…Kali is everywhere…
There are some other western travellers inhabiting the outskirts of Goa, like the so called “Rainbow tribe”: who take long-term meditation studies, learn Sanskrit or work for months on end as Mother-Theresa volunteers in Kali ridden Calcutta. Some of them don't have any respect for the Goa Technoids. "Those techno-trance people” spits out an Italian Rainbow girl, "they just bring their own fucking culture to India. This is a good place to explore something spiritually different from the material west, but as long as they have their techno drugs they don't seem to care…indeed…we dance on the synthetic void and crave for a whiter moon…
“…have you ever felt so free? "No" smiles the girl with the purple shades. "Welcome to Goa."…
“Ok space cadets... prepare to hurtle yourselves through the cosmos, hyperspace yourselves in twelve dimensions….” blips the sampled trance track played across the moonlit darkness...
We dance to the side of Kali in unison with her cosmic dance - her relentless beat and rhythm in divine synchrony with the trance of our synthetic machines.
Avid seekers of an infinity beyond all dawns, we reach that bittersweet point of no return where life and death are no more - no more fear, no more angst, no more neurosis and civilised decorum…
We taste the quintessence of freedom on our synthetic-lysergic coated tongues, and want more…of course…the black goddess is ever present in the shadows of our dancing lights….awaiting for blood and overdose to come her way…who will be sacrificed? No one knows…or cares…
Death is the authentic seal of our excess, without it, it would be all a joke, another packaged life from weepy-two-weekers.com, and no spirit would be present…Kali accepts only spirit; there is no counterfeit that can pass her scrutinizing mad ruby eyes, they red glow in the moonlit darkness… shadowing by moonlight, Kali sees all, and forgivee nothing...
