Readers' Submissions

So Many Feels

  • Written by Anonymous
  • August 15th, 2013
  • 4 min read




When I was arrested in Singapore a couple of years ago what I feared more than anything was the forced return to the west and the prospect of being stuck there.

The Don who saved my arse in Singapore and picked up the Philadelphia lawyer's tab, said to me on the day we were raided “my old man came to South-East Asia with a gun, all we’ve got is a phone and we’re not even pointing it at the locals, we’ll be fine.”

The boiler room work, let’s face it, is bottom feeding. It’s a secret, it’s a lie, it’s a crime, but the camaraderie and meth-driven bravado backed by currency allows me to excuse myself. In a simpler age I could be seen to have sold my soul to the devil for 20 years of pleasure. There is no third party here now; I am stealing from myself and crystal about it.

“This is our decision, to live fast and die young.
We’ve got the vision, now let’s have some fun”

And what about money and stealing and telephones, for that matter what about The Fed and the printing press, too big to fail, the NSA, sanctioned drone strikes, it’s all relative as everybody scrambles for the crumbs as fiat currency fails, at least that is what we Meerkat Manor inhabitants tell ourselves. (If you have never worked the churn of a boiler room the constant bobbing up and down from the workstations looks very similar to MM).

I.T. that’s me, sounds about right at 2 AM in Rachada. Legal work, outsourced, perfect for 11 pm soi 11, it has gravitas. Insurance, never worked anywhere!

So Bangkok it is.

The painfully dull Toyota breaks the spell long enough for me to see that Caitlin, my wren, has little nobility in her features, British Isles tough, yes, but more rugby than tennis. 14th floor in a Bangkok high-rise no doubt bought off the plan in L.A. the 12th sold I muse. Sister ships all of them doted strangely around the equator. The circle of contacts appears secure and the 14th floor anywhere in Asia sounds right for our style of “bad luck" action, and these boarding school types wouldn’t put themselves in harm’s way, would they. And Hugh the Don, yes Harvard Hugh the Yank, Ivy League maybe, but hey it’s Bangkok. Hugh never leaves it seems, first in last to leave, I’ll give it to Yanks they can work.

The expat “thing” has a sameness about it whether it is Hong Kong, Bangkok or any of the big ones. Bangkok has my vote, it is more visceral. The seven day a week party is more than a piss up, it exists as a cultural bond and a personal blindfold, allowing you to play redcoat, opium trader, running dog or even phone trader. Caitlin leads the charge as usual and we all know that the goal is oblivion.

And Pim, Pim from Isaan. Innocent of all this. Works and owns the laundry on the ground floor of my apartment, she has a photo of the laundry as her Facebook page, so cute. I confided in Caitlin that I am thinking of moving in with Pim, “so many feels” she mockingly replied. Pim is suspicious of me, I do not blame her, and she has taken to looking at me with the side of her face, an expression not peculiar to Asians but redundant in the West by 15. I have come to learn not to worry as it will pass, as even life itself does here, in natural fashion.

Caitlin has been talking about going to The Philippines, there are a number of openings and it does seem to be where things are moving, but I am staying in Bangkok.

When Singapore came down I knew that Asia was my future and I am sure now Bangkok is my place (another doubtful character setting up in the neighbourhood I hear you say) I have a small bank and Pim’s business, and perhaps another, should allow me to get off the phones, and I need the adventure. Not the romantic courting and wedding of fiction and not some hippy dream in a northern village but a new start.

I'm stealing time from my own life,
all the hours that god sends,
my future is a Valentine,
stolen in the perfect crime.

So some time in the future when you meet me at a beer bar in Pattaya and I tell my story of the two businesses that were taken from me and how there is no justice in Thailand and I warn you not to trust Thais you can smile in the knowledge that Kama does exist and all the little people who trusted me with their pensions and life savings in the end got their sweet revenge.

See you in the soup.




Stickman's thoughts:

What a load of complete and absolute tripe.



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