And now for Part 2 of How I was Exploited by the Indian Film Industry and Enjoyed Nearly Every Aspect of It -
Suddenly this little adventure seemed to come with a tight leash attached - Every time I even thought about going for water or juice or something one of the assistants would say - Please John Kruthi, your place, your costume - which meant my sunglasses - even when they were busy fiddling with cameras or some such thing - they only had two of course with no lights - shooting had to stop by 6 pm when the sun went down - Just one step above art school...
possible communities in the entire universe. The contemporary art community, naturally. The health-care community. The gay-lesbian-bisexual-transgendered community (did I get them in the right order?) The fundamentalist Christian community.
The NASCAR community. The American Girl community. The Civil War reenacter community. The koi enthusiast community. The Castle of Mad King Ludwig community. And on and on and on. I can imagine a tatting community without straining the slightest brain muscle (for those of you who’ve never heard of tatting, it is an obscure form of handwork). I can be certain there is preservation of spelunking songs community, in
fact I think I have their spiral-bound songbook somewhere. And though I might not have thought of it without sitting myself down to be quiet for a moment or two, I can even envision a nematode community, especially as these non-segmented worms were a key plot feature in the Val Kimler epic “Red Planet Mars.” But a “heavy element community?!
but I don't think that way, and if he had been coming on to me, why I must be sending out the most inexplicable signals of approachability as the fellow was haggard, mostly toothless, and the shade of yellow that indicates either liver disease or habitual cigarette smoking.
For my aforementioned pie-loving friend is in his forties, and author of the statement "I thought green beans somehow grew 'French cut,'" one of my earliest prosaic epiphanies about the difference between my rural upbringing and that of the majority of my peers, raised as they were in suburbia where green beans came either from Green Giant cans or Birds Eye frozen packages, not the truck garden. (For those of you in 
Just when the water gets murky, and just when things get slightly spooky, The Peripatetic Shark makes his appearance....showing no fear of schools as he never travels in such aggregates, knowing real sharkiness cannot be taught, preferring the ambience of the solitary hunter....knowing that he is what he is, beyond mere paltry theory or, if you will, the limitations of language-
