Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes Part 396
Hello Dana fans and Stickmanbangkok.com fans and Pattaya ceiling fans (I have found a bar that will make Chinese bowl drinks): today we five fun things. Enjoy.
Recently, I was reading, or trying to read, a story in The New Yorker magazine called No Secrets (June 7, 2010).
The author's name was Khatchadourian. In the story there is a volcano called Eyjafjallajokull (no, I am not making this up). There is talk of WikiLeaks, an international organization I never heard of. A politician is named Daniel arap Moi. A person appears named Rop Gonggrijp. Mr. Sang appears. Dandenong Ranges National appears gets a mention and Buddhism pops up (people love to mention Buddhism). The surname Solzhenitsyn appears to remind you of why you will never take a class in Russian literature with impossible to pronounce Russian last names. Oh, you recognise the name Solzhenitsyn do you? Ok, what do you know about him? Exactly. And last but certainly not least Al Jazerra stumbles onto the stage of this story (the organization, not a guy named Al) and competes for my attention.
The final straw on the camel's back that buckles his knees also releases him from struggle and performance guilt. Finally he can rest. It was folly to try and carry that much straw anyway. We all have limits. There is no pleasure and no future in trying to exceed your limits. Like the camel, this article in The New Yorker magazine reminds me with finality that globalism and the future has left me behind. Finally I can take a breath. The unequal struggle is over. Finally free, free to be me.
I think this is why I enjoy vacationing in Pattaya, Thailand. My world is 90% from Soi 10 to Soi 16, I no longer even try to speak Thai, and the girls I meet seem mostly to have one syllable names like Ping, and Ling, and Bang, and Wan, and Na, and Da, and Num, and Mel, and Benz, and Fa, etc. Nobody tries to speak to me in a global way, I'm not required to struggle with spellings and names and ideas beyond my comfort level, and no one arrives to arrest me because I am not trying trying trying. Trying to improve myself, trying to fit in, trying to understand, trying to smile, trying to speak a foreign language, trying to be twenty-five years old when I am really sixty-one years old, and trying to be and sound globally hip. Thailand for me is like a hyperbolic chamber for overextended divers. Divers who went too deep and tried to come up too fast. Divers who tried to be something they weren't. Divers who tried to carry too much straw.
Nobody knows my name and nobody cares about me between Soi 10 and Soi 16 in Pattaya, Thailand. Ok, right back at you. I'm here to recover from all this pointless social global deep diving that postures as modernity and the craved for future. Sitting in the sun on the boardwalk, talking to the girls, and smiling: it's enough.
LETTER FROM MY EDITOR
Salutations and Permutations Kuhn Maak Hansum Man Dana:
As always a happy Hello and a 10,000 watt ex-bargirl Thai smile to my favorite writer and most brilliant wordsmith. My editor days are cloudy until I receive another one of your stories and then the sun bursts forth and the birds sing. You are my most favorite writer in my stable of 427 writers. You number one G. I. — I no lie.
Anywho, I received you latest installment that contains the English translation of the name for the capital of Thailand, Bangkok. I requote below:
'Great city of angels, the supreme repository of divine jewels, the great land unconquerable, the grand and prominent realm, the royal and delightful capital city full of nine noble gems, the highest royal dwelling and grand palace, the divine shelter and living place of the reincarnated spirits' — Guinness
A few things Dana:
1. First of all the word Bangkok contains a last syllable that sounds like 'cock' and for obvious reasons we need to change this so that we do not lose our Catholic, virgin, schoolteacher, prude, or idiot markets. My extensive editor experience tells me that a medical word would solve the problem so instead of Bangkok we will use Bangpenis. And you didn't want to use an editor . . . .
2. Another idea: ",the supreme repository of divine jewels," smacks of obtuse and not necessary euphemism–to wit: jewels for testicles. Everyone in our modern world is familiar with the concept of the family jewels being in a man's pants but we do not need to be that obtuse. Just say it Dana. Testicles — ", the supreme repository of divine testicles,". And you didn't want an editor . . . just let me hold your hand. Feel the love.
3. Etc.– I have emailed under subject heading: Penis, testicles, et al several more ideas on how to pump up this description of Bangkok (oh excuse me: Bangpenis) for modern readers. Please respond ASAP.
Ok, my new Milton of the 21st century; that about wraps it up. Just a few little concept ideas and hairsplitters that my editor instincts tell me will put the glossy sheen on the coat of your writing that all writers dream of. No need to thank me. And, as always; my name is Petchabula Ignoni Song Sung but you can call me PISS.
TODAY'S MONGER DICTIONARY DEFINITION
Danaism: the Thailand farang-Thai experience. A petrie dish for monger growth, influence, and happiness. A future where men and women are equal: no dreams, no agendas, no opinions, no needs, no wants, no emotions, and no regrets. Just smiles and happy mating. You are wasting time in a cooking class, or riding an elephant, or bargaining for a gem? We will find you. Danaism will rule and you will smile.
HEAR THAT BELL?
Hear that bell? It is not tolling for you. Think you are smart. Not getting the attention your mighty intellect deserves? You should be remembered after you are gone? You shrink from no brain measure?
Ok, read Music in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries by Richard Taruskin. Or try to read it. Welcome to the text viewing portal of an intellect so much smarter than your intellect that the measure would sag in the middle like a suspension bridge cable. Welcome to your self. You are ordinary. Just another dog in the pack. So stop yapping. Time to book another trip to the Kingdom where you can mainline delusion and feel special. See you on the boardwalk.
THAI THOUGHTS AND ANECDOTES — PART 400
Retirement redux sing hossana: cue the bugles . . .
Hear those birds singing? See those dolphins leaping? Hear the Dana haters cheering? That's right. Time is linear, only goes forward, and is measured in units, not in waves. Photons can be measured as waves or particles, not time. And it is time. The time has come. Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes — Part 400 is going to be my last Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes. No doubt in my future there will be other Thai thoughts and anecdotes, but it will not be in your future. No more writing. My tail is still wagging but I'm not pawing at the pen anymore. Stickman has all the party details. Dana Enterprises will still operate from South Pattaya Road; but the weekly epistle era is over. Good luck to everybody. See you on the boardwalk. Stay Away From Fa.
And for those of you who still owe me money, it is time to get those loans in. After Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes — Part 400 is published I will have time to start collecting. And I think we can all agree that you do not want me showing up at your expat hovel in Isaan, or your home in Fiji, or your office in Manchester. We have a new office dog named Hans and he will be accompanying me on these collection forays. He is the biggest blackest low hipped German Shepherd you will ever see. So do the right thing, get your loan in to me. Money can be wired to my bank in Boston or dropped off at the Dana Enterprises office on South Pattaya Road in Pattaya. And do not give me some lame excuse about how you gave the money to Fa to give to me. Nobody in the cosmos would ever believe that.