same, same

It’s always the same. Or, “same, same”, as people belonging to certain Asian families of languages use to say. Once in the Transhimalayas we had a caravan’s man taking care of the horses, a fine guy indeed, but, no matter what exactly you said to him, he always answered: “Right, Sir! You are right, Sir! No problem, Sir!” Until, meanwhile being several weeks deep inside where we shouldn’t be, nerves blank, a close friend of mine threatened him with a severe beating if he wouldn’t stop the right-Sir thing. To our every relieve he stopped it. Don’t be upset about my frankness, this is a blog in the strict sense of the term, as you plainly can read near the top of the righthand sidebar. For those who get the allusion. Today I even revisited the river’s bed of gravel to the north, but it didn’t help this time. My problem is that I again do not really know how to organize my material. Installing a tag cloud in here is possible, helluva hassle, but possible. But what to do with printed or printed-out matter? Several systems at hand, some self-deviced … All that was a subterfuge. My real problem is that I do not know what exactly this blog is for. How far can I go in what I am writing here, how visible has the ethnographer to be online. Is it lege artis to use this blog for jotting down my inner states in a cyphered way, indirectly relaying information? Subterfuge again. Same, same, right Sir? Or, as the dead immortal Elvis Presley said: “We’re caught in a trap.”

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