Readers' Submissions

Thai Thoughts and And Anecdotes Part 297

  • Written by Dana
  • July 9th, 2011
  • 6 min read



Greetings Dana fans, street grilled chicken fans, and coconut with a straw fans. An essay today and maybe a surprise. Maybe you are all more like me than unlike me. Maybe even at a distance we are cosmically connected, just biding time waiting for an entanglement. Maybe that's all we really do with our lives–mark time until the next entanglement. Bonding is everything, and time is fleeting. Distant humans can be linked but the attraction only starts with a smile. Smile on the boardwalk and watch distant females inexorably move towards you. They think they hate farangs but they move towards you anyway. The physics of need. Sex is only part of the equation.

COOKING WITH GINGER OR ENTANGLEMENT?

From the mystery, and the miasma, and the maelstrom of quantum mechanics; a physics that replaces facts with probabilities but always gets the right answers, we get:

"Distant particles can in fact be linked even when information can't pass between them. This distant linkage, called entanglement," — Alexander Witze.

Well maybe: all I know is that the sun is up, the sky is clear, the birds are chirping, and the boardwalk is starting to populate with some wonderful humans. Though distant from one another, we are all linked by the same thing. We want to smile. We need entanglement. And our bone marrow deep reptilian brain stem core intelligence tells us that time spent in each other's arms beats everything else.

Ok, I'm not 100% sure how this relates to my self and to the other feminine selfs on the boardwalk in Pattaya but my instincts are that we are all involved in some quantum cosmic soup of mysterious intimacies. Entanglement of distant particles that can be successfully brought together to share photonic connections and starlight bonding whether we meet in the daytime or we meet at night. Daytime or under the stars are simply linear calendar constructs based on a planet revolving a star. What potentials and passes between my self and the individual selfs of Ling, or Ping, or Sung, or Na, or Fa, or Ba, or Wan, or Lan, or Ran, or Pencil, or Yogurt, or Benz represents the Homosapien fusion core of all that can be. The interior pussy heat of Bong, or the giggling of Broom, or the crying (I am leaving tomorrow) of Fem, is the penultimate Farang-Thai experience. Nothing can place me closer to the bone marrow social core of Thailand than time spent with her women.

You took a cooking class at the Oriental hotel and learned what fantastic things the Thais do with ginger? Good on you. You rode an elephant and learned the mahout has been to Berlin to visit his now distant sister? Good on you. You actually got up and danced on stage at the Thai cultural show and dinner in Chiang Mai? Oh, you are brave. You went to the Bangkok restaurant Condoms & Cabbages and exchanged bright brittle chatter with other International types? I'm so impressed. But none of it was social physics. You were just sticking your finger in the frosting on the Thailand culture cake and calling yourself a sensitive adventurer.

Want to be a sensitive adventurer? Want to be an International adventurer? Want to have stories to tell that no one in your office in your home country can top? Want to meet the real Thailand? Want to mix with real Thais? Hit the boardwalk and pick up Thai ladies of the commercial kind. Think you are clever? Think you are smart? Try it. Learn to swim in a tank full of the disenfranchised, the angry, the hopeful, the without hope, the depressed, the innocent, the damaged, the confused, the ill, and all of the mothers who show stretch marks in your hotel room. Mothers trying to be good mothers. Learn to swim and learn to smile in this ocean and you may someday qualify to consider matters of physics, and math, and astronomy, and cosmology. Next stop Danaism.

Did you learn to fly amongst the stars in your Thai cooking class? Did you learn to see disfiguring stretch marks as markers of mother love while riding an elephant? On the return trip back to your country who do you suppose learned more about the culture of Thailand: you or the farang on the boardwalk you imagine is inferior to your neighbors, and your office mates, and your other family members?

Remember the day you visited the Thai museum and you looked at inconsequential broken bits of mislabelled pottery? On that day Fa and I went to the market with her aging father and her one year old child. The child was a delight, Fa was happy, the other Thais were friendly, and it turned out that her father and I both shared an interest in birds. Let's see: pottery shards vs. people. I think I'm ahead on points.

Next time you feel like making yourself look good by making others look less good in the form of an unoriginal diatribe against foreign men who go to Thailand to meet women consider that what they, and what we, and what I do is much more challenging and potentially rewarding and always human than going to a monkey show, or a tourist gem mine. On the field I might get injured but I also might fall on the ball. To find you I have to look in the stands where it is safe and easy to be judgemental.

It's the smiles and the love that counts. Our bodies are empty vessels yearning for entanglement, Marconi towers anxious for signals; hearts not of pumps and electrical impulse but of hope. Hope that springs eternal. Like the Holy Spirit that acts as a guardian of Christian impulse until the Second Coming, hope makes a mockery of time and mortality. On our deathbeds we are still hoping to meet a nice Thai lady with soft brown eyes, and scorching hot hips. Hey, maybe the nurse likes me. Do we waste time with whether she is a boardwalk 6 or a private Japanese club 10? No, the idea never occurs to us. In fact, ideas do not occur to us. They are the dross of the fools and the lost. A quantum life is a life of quantum possibilities but it's a life of finite time. How to filter and winnow? The smart man reduces all to smiles and love. See you on the boardwalk.

Imagine the future surprises the pseudo-alpha males and pseudo-alpha females will have to endure when the prostitutes, and the skanks, and the cruisers, and the whores, and the stretch mark branded mothers and the men who smiled, and laughed, and bonded with them turn out to be the pioneers, and the leaders, and the visionaries that society needs. Nobody really needs to know how to cook with ginger, or ride on an elephant. What we need to know is how to accept all the quantum possibilities of our lives and make good choices. Are you smiling? Is the woman smiling? You made a good choice. Good on you.

Think about it. In a quantum social world of infinite possibilities when you and your Thai lady pass through the slit of your hotel room door you don't know if you are going to emerge as particles or as waves on the other side. But does it matter? Just keep smiling. It's the smiles that count. Out of one hundred souls who went before the firing squad who is remembered? The one who smiled. The smile is the signal that the defences are down. Ready for social entanglement: not cooking with ginger, not elephant rides, or broken bits of pottery. Physicality, the commitment and the risk of love.

See you on the boardwalk.


Stickman's thoughts:

Away from Bangkok so no comments today.