Autumn 2002
Monday December 1, 2002: Fear & Loathing
The decision to flee came suddenly…
Or maybe not.
Maybe I’d planned it all along, subconsciously waiting for the right moment. The bill was a factor I think, because I had no money to pay for it. Our room service tabs had been running somewhere between 29 and 36 dollars per hour, for 48 consecutive hours.
Incredible!
How could it happen? But by the time I asked this question there was no one around to answer. That rotten attorney of mine, Dr. Gonzo was gone. He must have sensed trouble…
From Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
By Hunter S. Thompson
Friday November 29, 2002: Shop, Store & Safe
I went to Asian Spices last night for food and ending up staying until close, drinking this red wine spritzer called “Spy” with Noodle. Afterwards I went shopping with Her and her friend in around the night market by Nana.
This morning at 9:00 am the same gang of JVK guys showed up, the boss laughing at the sight of me yet again. They packed up 2 boxes worth of stuff and off they went. I returned to bed.
I ordered a van from the mysterious Mrs Kim and moved my computer to see the good Doctor Gaz. The trip over to HD was strange. I had the driver of the van pop in one of the mix tapes I made at Geri’s yesterday afternoon and I just relaxed. It all felt good, and right, and for the first time in a long time I felt at ease with the universe.
At HD I unloaded the boxes, and then had Shalena trim my hair. Actually cut it all off. #1… I went to Asian Spices afterwards and spent the evening hanging out with Noodle. I was tired from yesterday, and left at around 9:30 pm though.
Tuesday November 26, 2002: Six Feet Under
I went over to Geri’s tonight to watch some TV and eat. Nicola is staying there presently so it was good company all around. Geri made up some nice pasta to munch, and we hung out while “Star Trek:Voyager” faded into “Band Of Brothers”, both of which remind me of Dorie and life a year ago. Nicola went to bed early, and Geri and I watched “Six Feet Under” followed by “The Practice”. It was a good evening.
I almost went to Asian Spices afterwards to see Noodle. Perhaps I should have.
Tuesday November 19, 2002: Loy Katong
Today was the big Thai water festival that marks the “end” of rainy season. There are huge gatherings all across Thailand to mark the day. Everywhere people release little floating baskets that contain flowers, incense, and candles into the rivers, streams, and khlongs and into the sea. These baskets represent people’s troubles or wishes and contain their prayers.
Maggie and others from the HH Massive organized a dinner at a restaurant on the beach by her digs. Other than one American and his half-Thai daughter who Maggie has been taking care of, the Thai girlfriends and myself, everyone was British. The whole thing was a sonic nightmare. I had expected some quaint thing with traditional music. Nope. It was an assault on one’s very senses.
Music was blaring from every direction, and not one place was playing the same song. The best way to simulate this would be to sit between three or four electronic organs with built-in drum machines, each being played as loud as possible by old ladies hopped up on crystal-meth, crack and Jolt Cola. None of these ladies would have more than a total of 7 fingers. Accompanying them would be several men and women shouting or “singing” in Thai through riot police bull-horns. Multiply that by 1000 and you have the idea. Just when your brain has been dulled to the point where you’ve tuned it all out… That’s when they started up the home made fireworks and turn on the outdoor movie theatre. There is nothing like explosions to make Expats flinch either. In the back of everyone’s minds, even those of us who lived in Manila in 2000 is that thought; Bali.
The other thing about this event was the food. Not that I mind seafood, and this seafood was actually outstanding… But anyone who’s seen the movie “Castaway” knows that a seafood diet doesn’t exactly fill. I was starving, not having really eaten since Monday night’s crab-feed, so no matter how much of this stuff I had, I was still hungry. Conversation was difficult, as we had to shout at each other. Captain Cliff just would look at me and laugh. Finally, at around 9:00 pm, everyone reached saturation levels and there was this unspoken but unanimous decision to put our little boats in the water and be done with it.
We headed over to this inlet beside one big stage that featured dancing girls and bad music pumped through giant speakers. Some fellow was up on stage singing with a keyboard player backing him. It was like Satan’s Karaoke. One at the side of the stage we stumbled down the rocks to the inlet where a few Thai’s were setting off their little floating prayer things. The mud beside the inlet soon turned to quicksand and we had to ditch our shoes. Once in the “mud”, it revealed its true nature. The smell also indicated what sort of material was coming from the inlet to the sea. Alas we were committed. Then came the battle to actually light up the incense and candles. I struggled with Cliff and his girlfriend Elizabeth II with matches and a lighter. After a great deal of frustration we managed to light our three incense sticks but the wind made the candle option out of the question. I strode back into the inlet of shit and sent my little banana leafed boat on its trip to the sea. Afterwards I headed back up the rocks carrying my contaminated shoes. I was barefoot and I managed to nicely slice the ball of my foot on either a rock or a sea-shell, although I didn’t notice it until much later.
Nutter, Elizabeth II, and I headed behind the stage to the proper beach to wash our feet. Nutter had her little dog Rogan (Japanese for Logan?) who ran blindly around loving the whole event. After we washed up, I headed back to the Hyatt with Captain Cliff, Elizabeth II, Warren (formerly of HD Massive) and I Know My Name Is Simon. We passed though the crowds of Thais arriving for the night, and then drove back. Once we were back at the Hyatt we sat and had a drink in the calm and quiet. Geri and Nutter joined us later with Rogan. I got a ride back to Chez Maggie with Nutter.
Monday November 18, 2002: Hua Hin
I am now in the town of Hua Hin, which is on the Gulf of Siam. I am at Chez Maggie.
Last night I went over to see Noodle and have some food. I got home at around 10:30 pm and Alise the desk clerk was pitching me to come out to the Qbar with her and her coworkers. I declined the offer but at around 11:00 pm changed my mind, thought “What the hell” and texted her that I would go. So, at 11:30 pm off I went with Alise, Yo and Nut to the Qbar. It was an excellent evening. The music was great. It was all R & B and Hip Hop and the room wasn’t over crowded. The ladies flirted with me and I enjoyed the proceedings. Two Irish lads showed up who are staying at the Ambassador and that took the pressure off of me. I ended up getting hammered on G & T’s and talking to an American kid named Trey who was up from school in Sydney. It was his first time in BKK. He reminded me a lot of Keith Adolph. The place closed at 2:00 am and we headed over to who knows where to eat. The Irish lads Patrick and Michael came along, Michael singing “Coldplay” into a water bottle. We introduced them to the local food and I managed to stumble into my place at about 5:30 am.
Nutter rang me at… I’m not sure… and said we’d be heading out at noon to Geri’s. I managed to sleep a bit, then got up and packed a bag. We cabbed it over to Geri’s then headed up to Hua Hin in a Hyatt Mercedes van that Geri had hired for 4000 Baht. Nutter and her dog fell asleep, and Geri and I talked all the way up. It was a good ride.
The Hua Hin Hyatt is amazing. It was really empty due to all the terror stuff though. Red L and Jake were about, and we all ended up at the amazing pool for food and drinks and a swim. We laughed at the tightness of the Asian tourist’s Speedos. This is a great mystery. WHY do Japanese and Chinese men wear such tight swimming trunks? Red L thinks that they are given these Speedos at the age of 8 and are forced to wear them the rest of their lives. Considering the lack of landing gear, you would think they would wear something a little more concealing.
We headed to Maggie’s house at around 6:00 pm. I was surprised to find former Samui Brooksider Chris there with his Thai girlfriend Aon. I joined them and Maggie while Jailhouse Rock and Geri went off to the shop. Later this Australian guy named Scott joined us for some beers. The GG & Fripps went off to a big dinner, while I stayed with Chris and Scott, drank some beer, and talked until 10:30 pm. Maggie’s housekeeper and Chris’ girlfriend brought us a feed of fresh crabs and prawns the size of my fist to eat. It was a great night.
Sunday November 16, 2002: Moving Fish
I have had EXACTLY one hour’s sleep in the last 36 hours…
CJ and I had dinner last night. We went to Pho and pigged out. It was a good time. It is nice to talk to someone from Canada for a change.
Later tonight I went with Nutter to Geri’s and MJ’s to help her get her computer. And a dozen other items including 2 fish tanks and several bags of fish. I was in charge of the fighting fish that lives in Duncwin and Snooty’s old tube tank. Nutter was concerned the bumpy ride would kill him. I said that if the dark brown swamp water he was in hadn’t killed him yet nothing could.
The serviced apartments are located on top of the building that contains the parking garage, as weird as that might seem. The ride up to the 11th floor in the Taxi was completely surreal. It started out as your standard 1970’s parking garage cop car chase. Going around and around and around and around ever upwards… Then we hit the 6th floor and it all got very dark and scary. This is where the zombies park thank you very much for bringing your brains. Every other floor there would be a sleeping guard, protecting a pile of used broken elevator bits, or discarded HVAC gear… great piles of metal and who knows what else all strewn around the edges of the garage floors. We’d just see it in a passing flash as the Taxi’s headlights would sweep across it, like the beam of a warship search light… You expected to see some forgotten tribe of men, descendants of our grandchildren, peering out at you, hiding from those damn dirty apes.
Two Expats were leaving the suites as we pulled up in a Taxi on the 11th floor. You should have seen the look of shock on their faces. Especially when I pop out of the cab holding a tube tank of what appears to be a stool sample with an undigested fighting fish.
And Nutter and Snowy have bought dogs. Those wrinkly little pure-breed type creatures that don’t look like they can see. Nutter bought hers a spider man suit, complete with a hood.
Saturday November 16, 2002: Glad You’re Okay
WELL…
You can’t keep a good man down,
And God help the bastard who tries!
I can’t fight worth a damn but I take punches like a champ,
I never give up, and I never take advice…
You can’t keep a good man down,
Many have tried before you…
I may have had the blues for a minute or two,
But you can’t keep a good man down!
You’d never catch me
Crying in my beer alone,
I’d be laughing in my bourbon and dancing up a storm,
And the bullets in my back are gonna
KEEP ME WARM
But you can’t keep a good man down!
No you can’t keep a good man down!
You can’t keep a good man down,
I’ve always got a song and a smile…
I may forget my lines from time to time,
But give me one more chance boss,
I’ll have them rolling in the isles!
You can’t keep a good man down…
You can put your money on me!
I’m just too dumb to quit,
So don’t count me out just yet,
No you can’t keep a good man down!
Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen
Except for my Mamma, and I think she’d agree…
The trouble with you is that you don’t love me
But you can’t keep a good man down, you can’t keep a good man down!!
Words by Kevin Quain
Friday November 15, 2002: In to the Frying Pan
I was just now
Thinking about
The jaws-of-life
How they chew you up
And spit you right
Back
In to
THE FRYING PAN
And how
Life unwinds
Round and around
And up and down
You think you’re fine
But then
You’re back
In THE FRYING PAN FRYING PAN
And how life unwinds
Round and around
And up and down
But then you’re back
In
THE FRYING PAN
And
How life unwinds
You think you’re fine but then…
I was just now
Thinking about the jaws-of-life
They chew you up and spit you right back into the FRYING PAN
FRYING PAN
FRYING PAN
FRYING PAN
FRYING PAN
FRYING PAN
Words by Adrian Belew
Wednesday November 13, 2002: Still ill
I am still sick, and my computer is still sick. Tonight I am supposed to go to see Dr. Gaz, and hopefully he can sort out why ol’ Clunky is acting up. Today was another day of rest, although I got to The Meeting House for breakfast at about noon. Again I sat in the sun, enjoyed the food and drank gallons of tea. What I need is some of Megan’s Ginger-root tea and carrot soup.
I have been experimenting with taking my uploaded MRS4 tracks, converting them to WAV files and importing them into Acid Pro… with some excellent results. I am able to add further tracks, muck with the envelopes or volumes of the MRS4 tracks I recorded at Evergreen in the summer, and tinker with the pieces far beyond what I had thought possible. I have more of less completed one which is filed at “Nash’s Picnic”… For me, with its Nash the Slash sound, and “Million Year Picnic” optimism, the piece invokes images of some triumphant bike ride home in the summer 1979 with my old friends Strider, Zeus and The Flea.
Tuesday November 12, 2002: Out with CJ, Out with Cold
I met CJ last night at Larry’s Dive for a drink and some food. We had originally planned to meet at the Dubliner but I thought since we are both Canucks Larry’s would be more like home, and we could get some proper Canadian food; Buffalo wings and nachos. I managed to get caught in the rain earlier so I went over after changing but still was feeling “wet”, in that tropical hot dog night way. Once you’ve been soaked it just never feels like you are dry afterwards, even if you manage to change. I walked over to Larry’s as the rain had died out, but walking was a feat in itself as the poorly lit sidewalks hide many surprises for the unwary. The puddle you step in might actually be a two foot deep hole, or even a broken sewer cover. Watch your step!
CJ landed minutes after I’d arrived and we ordered Casers just to confirm our citizenship. The wings were of course excellent as were the nachos. We spent the next few hours yip-yapping about this and that, what we’d been up to, and living here in the 3rd World. It was a great evening. CJ summed up my feelings about it by saying “It’s so nice to have some normal food, in a normal place with someone normal.”
Yes, indeed.
We headed out at around 10:30 pm or so, the rain had pretty much stopped, so we walked back towards Asok together. It began to rain again but CJ pulled out an umbrella and we were safe enough. Crossing Asok was the most dangerous part of the trip. I ran behind her trying to keep the umbrella over her head like some secret service agent chasing the First Lady. We parted at Asok station, she took the BTS and I walked back to The Ambassador.
The rain yesterday clearly got me. Today I spent the whole day in bed, sick as a dog with the worst cold imaginable. Dreams, dreams and more dreams. Dark foreboding dreams of danger and destruction. Dreams of friends at risk, and dreams of some impending doom on the 14th. I managed to drag my snotty-self to The Meeting House for a breakfast at around 4:00 pm. It was nice and warm and sunny out, but I must admit I felt all chilled and cold, despite the fact I was sweating buckets. I had planned to meet up with Geri but in the end still felt too sickly. Hopefully this will pass quickly.
Sunday November 10, 2002: Day with Noodle
Sandy from Asian Spices called me at around 1:00 pm and said she wanted to meet for lunch. She had the day off since she’d had something or other at her University that morning and was now on her way to Siam Center. I agreed to meet her there. I took the BTS over and met up with her in the Black Canyon café in the Siam Center BTS station. It was strange to see her outside of the environment of Asian Spices, but ever stranger to see her in her University student uniform. We went up to the Pho restaurant in Siam for lunch and pigged out. Afterwards we attempted to see a movie at Discovery Center but it was simply too crowded, instead we went across the road to the flea-market-like Siam Square and wandered around through the shops. We bought tickets for the 6:30 pm showing of “Sweet Home Alabama” then killed time by wandering and even going in a karaoke booth where Sandy sang me a few Thai songs.
The theatre was actually nice inside. I had expected something filthier with sticky floors for only 100 baht. The movie was okay I guess. It’s one of those “romantic comedies” that will get played to death on HBO six months after its release. Riddled with cliché, it is the story of a woman from New York returning to her home town in Alabama. It was clearly written by people who had been to neither place. Still cliché translates well for the Asian audience and everyone in the theatre seemed to enjoy it.
The evening almost ended after the movie at 8:30 pm. I was prepared for the usual post-movie parting but Sandy thought it would be good to take me to the Bangkok “night market”.
The night market could be called the nightmare market. I was the ONLY farang to be seen and that made me mildly uncomfortable. I looked for t-shirts and found one excellent and bizarre one. The most startling thing I saw was a “National Front” t-shirt in one booth. Not second hand, but a brand new, freshly printed shirt with the words NATIONAL FRONT and Oi printed in huge gothic bold letters. The shirt had the NF flag and a cartoon skin-head on it. Bizarre.
Another disturbing thing is that some Japanese clothing designer has decided that sticking swastikas on his clothes is a cool thing. These aren’t the Buddhist or Hindu style swastikas either. It’s the old black broken cross on a white circle set on a red field. The very same flag that a bunch of intolerant racist scumbags used as their banner when they went on a rampage across Europe 60 years ago…
The Nazi flag. Now a fashion label for the uneducated youth of Asia.
Sandy was sort of shocked by the degree of passion in my reaction to it.
After we had wandered around the market for about an hour, we moved on to the more tolerable flower market. Once through there we decided to go to China Town for some late night noodles. So off we went in a Tuk-tuk at high speeds. I clung on the Jesus handle the whole way. We wandered about China Town for a bit until we found an outdoor noodle vender that Sandy approved of. Then we sat at the tiny plastic table and had our Hong Kong style noodles and some strange cold drinks. Sweet-bean juice or something.
We Tuk-tukked it to Ratchathewi and parted ways. Sandy headed home and I grabbed the BTS to Nana. Who should get on the BTS but Mr Newcastle Know It All, and his wife. She waved hello, while he pulled her off down the train away from me. Bizarre.
Today’s big event (so far anyways) was going to the Dubliner for food, then wandering around The Emporium for a while. The Christmas decorations are up now.
Saturday November 9, 2002: Commando?
Last night I joined Red L at the Dubliner Pub. Geri was there as well as the legendary CJ. I joined them at the bar and tried to catch up as they’d had a head start. It was a good evening. It was good to talk to someone from Canada as well. Geri left us at around 11:00 pm, which I believe is the first time in history that she’s left a bar to go home before I did. CJ was the next to go. Red L stuck her in a taxi and sent her on her way. It was just Red L and I were up for Rivas next and we brought along this tourist couple from the UK that Red L had befriended at the bar. The wife looked like one of those middle age “Reader’s Wives” from some horrible British skin magazine like “Fiesta” that Jon & Keith’s Dad would have hidden in a box under the stairs.
Ann is from Newcastle and is ready for anything in her leopard print top. She’s a real goer.
Something about her also reminded me of a claymation Wallace & Grommit character.
The husband was one of those fellows who has lots of opinions is highly uncomfortable with any situation that challenges or threatens his all knowing authority on everything. This was demonstrated at Rivas. He dismissed me complete because I am after all just an American. They managed to disappear leaving a 500 baht note behind to cover their portion of the bill. Red L took it much better than I did.
The evening ended at 2:00 am and I found my way back home via a taxi.
I woke up at 10:30 am feeling… not hung over, but hungry.
Sunday November 3, 2002: Dentist, Dinner, & Breakfast
Yesterday I went to the dentist for a cleaning and check up. One of my fillings has been bothering me quite a bit since I came back from Canada. I was certain there was a problem with it. It turns out that the problem is that I have been grinding my teeth in my sleep, something I haven’t done since I smashed my shoulder up in 1992.
Wow. Was that ten years ago?
In the end the whole thing cost a lot less than I had imagined.
Last night I met the G, G & Fripp contingent at Raj Mahal for a late night Indian. I took the BTS over but when I got off there was a major rain storm so I had to grab a taxi from the BTS station to the Hotel. The cabbie didn’t try the “no meter because it’s raining” trick but he did do the even more annoying “I can’t speak English because I think you don’t know where you are” trick. That failed. In fact he probably regretted it, as it resulted in me leaning up beside him pointing directions and shouting Fire Sign Theatre quotes at him. It got me where I wanted to go.
Red L and Likely Lad where there when I got there and we had to wait for Geri, MJ, Maggie and Maggie’s Sister Joanne who has been visiting from the UK for the last week or so. Jake was there and provided his usual amount of high quality amusement and entertainment. The food was good, but not as good as I remember it being. Red L and I are such big fans of Pasund (or “Abu’s Choice” as we call it) that we spent most of the night comparing the two and favouring Abu’s Choice.
After dinner I went with Maggie and Joanne to Larry’s Dive until closing at 1:00 am. We saw Sean the manager, and Maggie’s friend Kevin met up with us as well. It was an excellent night. I split at 1:00 am and walked back to the Ambassador. Walking by Asok was spooky. It reminded me of the many times I met K there.
Today I lay in until late. Teeth grinding aside I think I sleep better here than I did at Evergreen. Perhaps the grinding was an effect of Evergreen’s management.
This afternoon I met up with Maggie, Joanne Red L and Jake at the Dubliner for brunch. Some how I arrived last, ordered last and got my food first. I had the mini-fry but probably could have eaten more. Joanne headed back to the UK tonight but it looks like she had a great time.
Wednesday October 30, 2002: Nana-neurotica
Adjusting to my new home.
I live in the third “tower” of the hotel, although from what I can see this is the only one of the three that would actually qualify as a tower. It isn’t a bad place… It’s an older building than Evergreen, and reminds me of many places I had lived in while in Manila. There is express elevator to the 11th floor, then a short walk across to the tower. It has this huge common area full of chairs and tables. You see a lot of this sort of ill-conceived architecture in 1970’s era buildings. The architects’ judgement having been dulled by the fumes from their Bic Banana markers, they set out to insure everywhere has a groovy communal space where the people of the future, wearing their orange one-piece jumpsuits could sit and pop protein pellets together… The future that never happened. Instead, the emptiness of the lounge makes for an environment more akin to “The Shining” than to “2001: A Space Odyssey”. The lone snoozing security guard has plenty of padded seats to choose from.
Around the building and clearly visible from my window is the aftermath of the Asian financial crash of the late 90’s. Uncompleted buildings, long abandoned, now over grown with greenery and populated by small groups of squatters who simply moved in. The building’s pillars are usually covered in graffiti and they seem a world apart from the break-neck confusion of rest of Sukumvit. I must admit the 8 year old inside me finds the building that my window looks down on is strangely compelling. When ever I look down on it I expect to see Chuck Heston being chased by apes on horseback, or perhaps Michael York as Logan making his run. I would love to explore it. But not without an armed escort.
I have been exploring the area a little. I lived a pretty sheltered life over at Ratchathewi. Here I am confronted by every sort of offensive bastard, from the ever present and always annoying Tuk-tuk drivers, to the touters and peddlers of human flesh. Just a walk to the BTS is an obstacle course comprised of blind and lame beggars, Indian tailors trying to get you to buy a suit, whores of every imaginable description, and venders selling everything from t-shirts to binoculars to porn VCDs. Mixed in with this confusion is the traffic on Sukumvit, as well as the fine Thai food everyone seems to think I enjoy. Things like mystery meat on a stick or deep-fried insects, all washed in feces-tainted water to insure your guts will never forgive you.
I have found a good little breakfast spot called “The Meeting House”. It is a small open air café that sits beside Sukumvit, just above the head level of the people walking by. I have been eating there in the morning, usually early enough to watch the venders start setting up. The scrambled eggs are surprisingly good, but I suspect a Farang is part owner. The other restaurant of choice is Pasung, and Indian place that Red L introduced me to. I have been eating there enough to regret it. But the food is outstanding. Well worth the after effects.
My computer is still acting up. I am unsure if it is the new hard-drive, or the move, but it is being very skittish. I seem to be unable to burn a CD successfully, which is beyond annoying. There have also been some difficulties with my modem that are ghost-like and unexplained. I think a visit to Dr Gaz is in order.
Sunday October 27, 2002: Moving
You would think that someone who’s moved as many times as I have would be find moving easy. I think each time I move it becomes more unpleasant. This move however was necessary, and in some ways will prove to be the first step back towards where I should be.
I hate moving though.
I spent the day moving stuff to the new place, and then at around 9:00 pm I managed to wave a taxi down who was willing to move my stuff. The whole process took a little over an hour to complete. That included loading the taxi, driving to Ambassador, taking everything up in the lift, and then going back to Evergreen for the last bits and the big check out. Evergreen of course demonstrated the very reason why I am moving by wanting me to pay and electric bill that I had paid on Friday. In the end I just gave them the money so I could get the hell out of the place.
Welcome to the third world. From the lowliest Tuk-tuk driver to the highest government official everyone seems to be trying to rip you off.
The taxi drove me back to Ambassador and I gave him a 1000 baht, although he was only expecting 500 baht. He had been so good natured through the whole thing I felt it was the best thing to do. You don’t find many good cabbies in these parts.
NOW… here I am.
My computer was the first item to be unpacked and set up of course. I will have to pick up an internet card tomorrow as I am out. So this entry will be delayed…
Saturday October 26, 2002: Night Out Move In
Last night I went to a French Restaurant on Soi 8 with Zarah. We met up with Maggie, Red L, Geri and Snowy who were sitting in the lounge part having a drink. I waved caution and common sense aside and had a G & T. Damn the mosquitoes anyways. Eventually we were moved to a table, and ordered our meals after a great deal of picture snapping and distraction. I kept ending up with more G & T’s as every V & T Red L ordered would arrive as a G & T and be quickly passed on to me. Perhaps that was the plan. He’s a tricky one. The food (as is all food that is mentioned in this journal) was outstanding. MJ showed up late having just flown in, but arrived just in time for the feeding. Perhaps he planned it that way. He’s a tricky one.
At 11:00 pm, once we were sufficiently stuffed we headed out to Rivas Club. It was nice enough an evening we actually walked over. On our way we ran into Miles and Neal who ended following us over. There was an excellent band playing, doing a mix of R & B, Reggae, and Rap so we hung out there for quite a while. At close to 1:00 am we headed to Ministry Of Sound where we found Roger the Wu and heard rumours of other Brooksiders. The Baffling Mr Burns was there as well and I briefly saw Monkey’s Irish friend Andrea.
Maggie was not impressed with the thumpa-blam beats. She asked if I liked “this music”. I don’t think she could hear my response.
I liked it so much I left at 1:30 am.
Only to come back to Evergreen and begin the great packing exercise. No rest no sleep. Just copy CD’s on to my hard-drive and pack up all no-essential items for storage and eventual shipping.
I fell asleep at close to 5:00 am and swam through a cloud of highly erotic dreams, which woke me some what startled. I did WHAT? With WHO??? Oh my. Someone must need to live a less monk-like existence.
So it was 7:00 am, and time to continue packing as JVK was arriving at 9:00 am to pack it all off. They arrived at 9:30 am and the fun began. Watching one fellow trying to construct a box for the Korg Micro-Synth was quite amusing. I hope what he built actually protects the old beast. They left at 10:30 and I watched them pass a baffled Evergreen manager on lobby TV. That in itself was amusing.
I think I slept for a while after that.
The next step was heading over to my new digs and checking in. It is over near Nana BTS so I railed it over and did the deed, the desk staff who was overly helpful took me up to my new apartment. I dumped off one token bag of clothes, then headed back to Evergreen and continued packing the stuff I would be taking over. That was my day, back and forth, feeling somewhat dislocated but having no regrets at the prospect of leaving the building which feels more like a prison to me than a home.
It reminds me of 2001. It reminds me of the big hurt, and the big sick and the management reminds me of all things unpleasant, like burning sacks of shit stinking up my day.
Good-bye.
I ate a meal at Asian Spices and played with The Noodle Queen Sandy’s digital camera. I took several good photos of her feet. I will miss going there.
Thursday October 24, 2002: News Flash, Pop Music Dies…
Fish have a memory that lasts about 20 seconds, or so I’ve heard. The entertainment industry has one that lasts for about…
YEP you guessed it… Ten years.
I don’t. I have journals. I have been keeping them since 1977. That’s 25 years for anyone who cares. So I have seen the music industry croak a total of three times. Each time it was shocked and surprised. Just like now. Each time I rejoiced and (sometimes vainly) hoped for something interesting to come along.
Here’s an article I pulled off of somewhere or other that illustrates my point that POP IS DEAD… AGAIN…
LOS ANGELES — Things are not so rosy anymore for pop star Britney Spears. Her latest album is not selling so well
Because it sucks! It’s not selling well because no one cares. All her fans have graduated from grade 6 and have moved on to something else.
And following some mishaps on the road while touring, Spears now says she needs a break and is taking a sabbatical.
Hopefully to take some night courses, and consolidate her finances.
The struggles of one of music’s biggest stars are not good for an industry struggling as well.
The tears are welling up in my eyes… All those record company weasels won’t be able to afford their coke…
In addition, she’s had a difficult break-up with ‘NSync’s Justin Timberlake, whom she calls her first love
Is this the guy who’s going to ride on a Russian rocket to the International Space Station? Maybe not. What? Boy Bands will be the punch line to a joke on The Simpsons in 3 years?? YES, mark my words.
“I think she has got good odds of having a long career,” says music industry analyst Steve Wonsiewicz.
Music industry analyst??? What kind of job is that? What do you do?
“Jim, the R&B futures are up two base points… I think we should start shorting the Punk Bonds!” Pleeeeeease! Music industry analyst my ass.
“She has been successful on her first two records”
So were The Bay City Rollers, Duncewin!
“She has the most talented people working with her to give her the best songs.”
Which is why she’s covering “I Love Rock and Roll”?? A bad song that she doesn’t even do a good job covering?
“People will want to work with Britney Spears and the odds are high she is going to go on and have a great career.”
Snort some more Charlie, Duncewin! I have two words for you…
MC HAMMER!
Sure Madonna survived far longer than I’d hoped, and even eventually started doing something interesting thanks to William Orbit… But she survived by reinventing herself, something I doubt this Pop Tart can pull off.
Pop is dead! I promise you…
Why? They just ran out of ideas. It didn’t take long either. This of course started happening in about 1998. The record industry was not doing so well then, and began blaming “pirating” and MP3s for their troubles… They were also fixated on what the NEXT BIG THING was going to be, and attempted to force a “Glam Rock” revival, with that cross-dressing goofball Marilyn Manson as the spokesman/woman…
We all know how well THAT turned out…
Then it was decided, no doubt by a bunch of “MUSIC INDUSTRY ANALYSTS” that this rave dance stuff “those kids” are listening to was the next thing and “Electronica” was born…
The music industry was given a reprieve thanks largely to The Spice Girls, and a few other of the Pop icons we will all soon laugh about. But 1998 is a long time ago. Pop is dead.
Who wants to listen to some pretty boy pout and whine that he’s hurting so bad when everyone has just seen 2000 people die a horrible death LIVE ON TV or blow up while on vacation? Cry me a river you poncey twerp… we’ve got real problems.
As I’ve said, this has happened before. This will be the lull, it will last about two years, during which all these BIG NAMES will go out like the dinosaurs… In the mean time people will have stopped buying CD’s and will spend their cash elsewhere until the record industry has something more to offer than prefabricated pap, saccharine pop songs and cliché…
Still not convinced? The music industry too powerful you say? People are too easily manipulated you say?
Here’s a history lesson…
Early 1980s… War in Afghanistan… People are sick of that California rock crap and Disco… There is a recession… The record companies blame video games…
Early 1990s… War brewing in the Persian Gulf… People aren’t interested in that 80’s pop crap and dance music… There is a recession… The record companies blame cassette tapes…
Early 2000s… War On (and by) Terrorism… People are sick of that pop music stuff and repetitious dance music… There is a recession… The record companies blame MP3s…
Yep… Call me Uncle Analog, but I’ve seen it all before.
The next big thing? Why Swamp Rock of course!
Tuesday October 22, 2002: Fist of Fury
Maggie rang me up this afternoon and informed me that she’d picked up a special gift for me while she was in Singapore and that I had to come by Geri’s and pick it up. I headed over only to be stopped at the top of the street by flooding. There was a huge thunderstorm earlier and Bangkok being a place where the water flows out of the grates instead of into them there was no getting down to her apartment. Luckily for me Maggie, Geri, Jake and his friend were on the way back in a cab so they stopped and picked me up.
The gift was the ridiculous but amusing Spiderman “Fist of Fury” action figure. Spidey in a karate outfit complete with a pre-broken block of wood to smash. Jake demonstrated what Spiderman was supposed to do on various objects in Geri’s apartment including me. Maggie headed out with the boys at around 6:00 pm but I hung out with Geri for a while and ate several slices of unbuttered, untoasted, white bread.
At 7:30 pm I headed out to meet some of the H-D Massive at Dubliner for Quiz Night. Geri had called me a taxi and I met him downstairs, however he actually kicked me out of his cab when this Thai family came out of the building and took them instead. I said the hell with it, managed to climb along the side of a wall to dry safety and headed out to the BTS.
Quiz Night is held on the 3rd floor of the Dubliner. It is a far more informal quiz night than others I have been to, and with that a little less serious. Celia, Monkey-Boy, Shelena, and Warren were already there and they named our team “Will the Real Terry (pronounced Teerrrreeee) Please Stand Up”. The games began and on the first round we scored 10 out of 10, largely due to Warren. The second round was a sports round and we fared quite poorly until Red L and his sidekick Likely Lad showed up.
There was a photocopied page of incomplete photos for us to attempt to identify. We managed to get most of them, my only contribution being Nelson Mandela (just by his chin and smile). Celia made an amazing call on a shot Sylvester Stallone’s profile from the bottom of the nose down. There was a full photo that Warren recognized as Kate Bush, and ours was the only team to get that right. The stumper photo was of Meg Ryan but she looked gaunt and snarly, more like an angry tennis player than anything. I don’t think anyone got it.
The last round was entertainment where once again we did quite well. In the end we tied for second with another team, both with 60 points of a possible 70. The winning team had 61 points. We won a bottle of some cheap booze, which for some reason ended up in my care, probably because I had a MEC bag with me. Or perhaps because everyone knows I won’t drink it.
Monday October 21, 2002: Better
I went to be at 10:00 pm last night and slept right through until daybreak. I was still sort of dizzy and tired all morning, but after I had a 45 minute nap at lunch I better.
I forced myself to the gym and rode the bike for 30 minutes before doing the usual rounds on the torture machines. One of the two Thai cops who live at Evergreen and work out here was in the gym and had the local news on. There was coverage of some badly wounded police being carted out of whatever office they were in, which had been obviously blown to bits by a bomb. The cop was upset by it, but his English is as bad as my Thai so I couldn’t find out where exactly the bomb had gone off. Probably in the south where there are Islamic insurgents. Sooner or later it will happen here.
I was in the gym from 4:30 pm until about 6:00 pm, after which I went to Asian Spices for some food. Sandy said I looked better than I had on Saturday. I had my usual meal, and read for a bit, then hit the chemist’s and stocked up on pain killers and anti-malaria pills. The bill was a mere 60 baht. The anti-m pills have little mosquitoes engraved on them which is sort of strange looking, but makes sense if they are distributed to people in small villages. They’ve worked well this time around. I got my supplies at 7-11, bought some watermelon and then came back to Evergreen.
Now it’s 8:15 pm… nearly time to sleep.
Sunday October 20, 2002: Fry Up
I have slept so much in the last three days! I woke up today at around 8:30 am and felt much better. I still had the lingering headache that goes with this, as well as the aching muscles but over all a vast improvement from Friday or yesterday.
I met up with Nicola at the Dubliner for brunch which was nice. Although she’s been dubbed the “Welsh Emma” due to her resemblance to Apple, she reminds me more of my much missed friend Jaime L in Toronto. We talked and ate, and spent two hours at the Dubliner. Afterwards we walked over to the big park that sits beside The Emporium complex. It was a really beautiful afternoon, sunny and warm. Being warm is a great thing.
We walked around the park and found a good spot to sit beside the big pool in its center. Nicola had asked me to bring some CD’s of music I’d done so I had a Snowmelter CD, as well as a CD of the live stuff we did in 1999. She listened to various bits on her CD Walkman then let me hear some stuff she’d recorded. I was totally blown away by her voice, and her song writing. We sat in the park and talked for much of the afternoon. In the pool, which was the colour of weak tea, turtles swam around, and poked their little heads up like tiny Loch Ness Monsters. Eventually we headed to The Emporium and I stocked up on more blank CD’s. Nicola leaves for the UK in several weeks so I am going to burn her some things to listen to, as we have similar tastes.
Saturday October 19, 2002: Mekong Delta Fever
I haven’t been feeling so good the last few days. I actually went to bed at some ridiculously early time last night and slept right through until the morning. I felt a little better and at noon met up with LLNL at Au Bon Pain and went to see a movie with her.
Gold Class prices have been raised from 300 baht to 500 baht… So there won’t be much of that going on anymore. It’s sad to think the last movie I will see there to be that dreadful “Triple X” thing. LLNL and I went up to the normal theatres and debated on what to see. She was somewhat timid and suggested a Thai movie called Mekong Full Moon Festival, but I was up for that over the other Hollywood crap that was showing. In the end it turned out to be an excellent choice. The movie was about these mysterious “fireballs” that shoot out of the water along the Mekong River next to the Laos border during the full moon festival. On of the main characters is a scientist, trying to explain the mysterious fireworks, while the local people feel he is a threat to their beliefs as well as their booming tourist trade that has been built up around the event (there’s a great shot of a farang trying to eat a deep-fried grasshopper). The locals believe it is the sacred Naga, while another one of the main characters knows the truth; that is the work of a group of monks… It was an excellent movie and a great insight into an ancient culture coming to grips with science of conflicting with its belief structure.
After the movie LLNL and I went to Pho for some food. She ate it in such a Thai way. This included the wrapping of deep fried spring rolls in lettuce, with mint leafs and healthy portions of hot sauce. Something I’d never seen before. It tasted great though. You learn something new… (If you allow yourself) We ate, talked and talked and ate, then walked around the Siam Center looking in stores. We parted company at around 5:00 pm.
What has been building all week broke today. I got home to the Evergreen and felt as if I was about to faint. I literally lay down and fell into a deep murky fever sleep until after 8:00 pm. I got up, still feeling brutal, took some malaria pills and bundled myself up for the walk over to Asian Spices where I failed to eat my dinner. I came back to Evergreen and felt rough but slightly better. I am in no condition to go out though.
Monday October 14, 2002: Thanksgiving
I had expected my Thanksgiving Monday meal to consist of sunflower seeds and soda-water, however Geri & MJ invited me to theirs for a meal. I went over at around 7:00 pm and met Geri’s friend Nicola in the lift on the way up. The self-defeating security system once again made actually getting in to the elevator and going up to the desired floor a major undertaking.
- The non-English speaking desk “guard” waves his hands dismissively when you ask if you can or he can call up to the desired apartment so they can let you in.
- In frustration you stand and wait for someone else to either come out of the elevator or come in and open it with their swipe-card and pin…
- You walk in behind them, defeating the whole point of having a secure elevator.
Nicola and I shared the frustration and the ride up to Geri and MJ’s apartment. We didn’t actually realize we were going to the same place until we arrived at the door.
The evening and the dinner was great. We sat and had some snacks, most notably some excellent smoked salmon, and some red wine. Then we had some food and even sat at the dining room table like civilized folk. I was even given the honour of saying grace, something I felt sort of odd doing.
After we had finished eating we sat around and talked, and had some more red wine. Nicola and I headed out to the BTS together at close to 11:30 pm and took the train to Siam Center at which point we headed off our separate directions.
Sunday October 13, 2002: Bali
I went to breakfast with Shelena today. We met at the BTS and went to the Dubliner for a fry up. It was a good feed, and afterwards we spent several hours marching around the Emporium Mall. It was the first time I’ve been in there and not gotten lost. She was looking for hair supplies and I was in search of blank CD’s (mix CD’s are a coming). We parted ways at around 2:30 or so.
I took the BTS back to Ratchathewi and hit 7-11 for supplies. Tiberian Sun requires a great deal of sunflower seeds and soda water to be properly enjoyed, and oh how I enjoy it.
I got in and switched on CNN to see what was up… and wept.
How horrible a thing. It was horrible in the Philippines in 2000… It was horrible in September of 2001 and it’s just as horrible today.
Why?
Everyone asks why.
I know why. The first thing to do is forget all the old Cold War things. This isn’t about political leanings, left or right. The people who plan and carry out these attacks, whether on Manila’s transit system, in India, or in Bali aren’t really retaliating for anything. They may have been recruited from slums but they are well armed and financed by men who got rich selling us their oil.
What do they want?
They want a planet ruled the way Afghanistan was. They want you and yours to either convert to their narrow believe system, unquestioningly obey their religious leaders or die. It’s that simple. They can try and justify their actions to the moderates by saying the U.S. this or that, but their actions speak for their black hearts. As a Pinoy friend of mine said a week before September 11th…
“They’ve declared a holy war on us and no one in the west seems to have realized it…”
God help us. There will be more to come.
What is equally sad for me is to still hear people from the West, in some hemp-oil daze, siding with bastards who do these things!
“Oh it’s because of the American policy blah blah blah blah blah…”
NO, YOU SOAP-DODGING HALF-WIT!
They blow us up because they believe God wants them to… Their priest told them its okay… They blow us up with the same twisted glee as they have when they hack their Hindu or Christian neighbours to death with machetes! It’s about little men with hats holding sway over millions and wanting to drag us all back into some medieval Theocracy. We are infidels. They want to kill us. Everyone gets worked up about corporate globalization but no one seems to notice the other one; the religious globalization.
Friday October 11, 2002: Phase-shifters On Stun
Warren and I met up at around 8:00 pm at took the BTS over to the station near Pat Pong, which is an area I rarely go to. There after some searching and dodging annoying Thai men who pitched us on seeing women who shoot ping pong balls and other projectiles out of their twats, we found our way to Soi 4 and to a place called the Balcony Bar. It was set back in an area that was distinctly gay, but far less annoying than the normal girlie-bar portion of Pat Ping Pong. Monkey was there with Celia, Shelena, and several of the Thai members of the H-D Massive. We sat and hung out there for quite a bit. Monkey was buying pitchers of a blue liquid as well as some red stuff… I had a bit but not enough to affect my vision. Among the Thai’s was On, who I’ve met before but never actually talked to. We talked quite a bit and I was glad to hear that she would be coming out to Ministry Of Sound with us…
At 10:00 pm we grabbed two taxis and headed out. I took a taxi with Celia and Shelena and enjoyed the zany antics of our driver, who was either insane or had been sniffing solvents earlier. A song came on the radio that was for him the greatest song ever composed and he quickly went into this child-like fit of joy. He turned up the volume full blast and bounced around in the front, singing along and beeping his horn and jabbering away to us in Thai. The song was this strange bit of “pop” music that featured a chorus that went “.45, .45… beeeyowww beeeyowww beeeyowww…” and had a bridge section where two fellows talked to each other in weird voices and interjected the English “forty-five” every now and then. This all set to some Casio keyboards and super-funky porno wah-wah car chase guitar. It was funny, annoying and bizarre all at the same time. It did make the trip that much more interesting though.
Ministry Of Sound was packed. Not at first, but quickly enough. My focus was talking to On, and the music was fine but it’s all been heard before by these ears. It grows as predictable as 50’s rock or rhythm and blues… and as boring. Something new is needed. At around midnight On decided she wanted to leave so I walked with her out and down to the main road. We ended up walking quite a ways, talking the whole time. Her English is excellent for a Thai. We said our goodnight and headed back to the club.
Once back I spent a great deal of energy trying to find everyone. I returned to our original spot but they were not to be seen. The crowd had grown to a crush and I had no desire to stand among them watching some guy stick vinyl records on a turn-table. Sorry… Having a good selection of music on vinyl and being able to mix the songs together at the same BPM is not a brilliant talent. If he had a bank of keyboards and drum machines I would have loved to watch. If he had that and an electric violin as well then he would have been Nash The Slash and I would have been impressed.
I worked my way back downstairs to the second “club” which normally would have been playing something other than what is up stairs. Last night they were pumping the tunes down to the overspill of people. One thing I discovered about Ministry is that is a typical third world death trap. The doors at the bottom of the stairs which lead to the other club and ultimately out of the place only open inwards… Imagine a fire or bomb, and then imagine hundreds of people pushing down the stairs to find they can’t push the doors open, the crush preventing them from pulling them back. Welcome to the third world. Safety last…
I bought a bottle of water from the downstairs bar (a whopping 70 baht!) and was “found” by Shelena and Warren who were both well on their way and sitting at a table. I joined them. Later Burnsie turned up with his girlfriend and there was a round of tequila which I did participate in. Eventually they all headed back upstairs and I just observed the scene and listened to the music.
Again we come back to the music. Some of it was quite good. All of it was far better than the usual 909 thumpa blam clatter you hear in these parts. But all of it was old, not in age, but in ideas. I have been an avid electronic music buff since I was 8. That’s 30 years kids. The only difference between what was being played there and Tangerine Dream’s 1975 “Rubicon” is the addition of some drum loops, and that Tangerine Dream did it live and sounded way better. Other than that… it’s the same stuff. The corporately named “electronica” thing has become a cliché unto itself… and like it’s mutant half-cousin Pop Music is TIRED and in need of some new ideas. DESPERATELY in need of some new ideas.
With that thought… at 1:30 am I grabbed a taxi and headed home.
Today I felt like shit. I think it was the smoke from the club. I didn’t drink enough to affect me. I slept poorly last night. Bad dreams about M. I have had several recently. Today I was groggy at best.
I crashed for about 45 minutes at around lunch then was in a better state for the remainder of the day. I bought a new phone-card, and did some shopping. I went to the gym and afterwards went to Asian Spice for a nice meal. Sandy the owner was there and I talked to her for a while. Afterwards I picked up my usual 7-11 supplies and two slices of watermelon, and then headed back here.
Now it’s time to watch some crap TV.
Thursday October 10, 2002: Hair-cut
Today I got the first proper hair-cut since I left Manila. Monkey’s friend Shelena, who’s over from the UK came to Evergreen this afternoon and did the honours for both myself and Warren (friend of Snowy & Zarah’s and new to the H-D Massive).
The make shift barber shop was in my washroom. I went first and had the number 2 cut although I could have lived with the number 1. Warren went next and had the number 3 which worked well. They headed out afterwards and I ordered up some food. Tonight we are meeting up with Monkey-boy and some of the H-D Massive, and then going to Ministry Of Sound to hear the London DJ Paul Oakenfold play.
Sunday October 6, 2002:
Last night I went out with LLNL from the H-D Massive. Having an operational hand-phone may be to blame… Or perhaps something else.
I met her at Soi 11 and went to her friends’ where they were just finishing dinner. Her friends were mostly French, either continental or Québécois, which was a very big shift from being around the British. Oddly comfortable in a way. I talked quite a bit to a fellow from France named Fred and his wife Beatrice. It was quite a good little get together.
At around 11:30 pm LLNL and I went with her friend to the famous Qbar. The very same Qbar Geri, Snowy and I had tried to find on of our first weekends in Bangkok. In a way it was a some what horrifying experience. We got in and moved over to some tables against the wall. The place was packed with what seemed like hundreds of posturing guys, ranging from bulked out macho love machines to desperate and dorky old fellows, all converging on the females in this tired dance of testosterone… All seeking…
Which was worse? The cocky over-confident guys who looked good and knew it, or the absolute losers making drunken fools of themselves by hitting on total knockouts. This was all set to the Romper-Room rhythms of the marked two and four beats, banged out on a 909 kick and snare.
THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM…
LLNL & her friend danced. I observed. There was so much to observe too! The weird mating rituals of which I have never understood and the weird outfits people had on in this fashionless and unoriginal time.
THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM THUMP BOOM…
This mountain of a bulked up freak, all hard and handsome flirted with the incredibly fit waitress. He made unwanted advances which she was too busy and too uninterested in to respond to beyond a disgusted look and a dismissive wave. Meanwhile the Mountain’s super trooper blondified high-maintenance Thai girlfriend had a fit of jealous rage, directed of course at the waitress, not Mr Love Mountain.
LLNL’s friend left at around 1:00 am and we left at 1:30 am and shared a taxi back towards Ratchathewi. I believe that I failed in the fun department, however taking me to a club where they play music I dislike and set me among people I don’t particularly want to be around isn’t the best way to bring out my humorous side. Oh well… I suppose that I actually went out with someone is a sign of some sort of thawing. Normally I am content to hide in my room.
Today was quiet.
Saturday October 5, 2002: Shopping Daze
Maggie was in town this weekend. I haven’t seen her since Jake’s cake-filled Larry’s Dive Birthday party. We had arranged during the week to meet up for brunch at The Dubliner which is exactly what we did. We met at around 11:30 am and had an excellent fry-up, and talked about what we’ve been up too and my trip back to Canada in September. She filled me in on all of Jake’s latest antics. It was an excellent breakfast.
After we’d eaten we headed over to Siam-Discovery and wandered about the shops together looking at things. There were several pairs of trousers that I saw in one shop that had possibilities until I tried them on. They were cut for the Asian man’s build, which to put it bluntly means no thighs, no bum…
After some shopping we hit Au Bon Pain for some food, and then headed over to MBK. More wandering, more bargains. I picked up a few needed items, as well as a copy of the Command & Conquer game I missed some how in 1999, “Tiberian Sun” and it’s expansion disc “Fire Storm”. Red Alert 2 has become dull. I always win, even when the AI’s outnumber me three to one and they are all set on “brutal enemy”… Only Chris can stop me there.
I left Maggie at 5:30 pm and headed back to Evergreen. My timing was perfect, beating a major downpour by only 10 minutes. It had been nice most of the day, but as I was walking back from MBK over the klong I could see what was coming.
Once home I loaded up “Tiberian Sun” and promptly got my ass kicked by the annoying NOD burrowing flame thrower tanks…
Friday October 4, 2002: Heaven & Earth
I am having difficulty writing. Which is the reason my journal has been lagging a week behind events. I believe the problem has the same root cause as my difficulty sleeping, or my absolute disinterest in playing guitar or recording.
Maralyn…
My days have been increasingly split in two. I crash at 4:30 pm or 5:00 pm and wake close to 6:00 pm unsure of whether it is morning or evening. The gym is the only place I have found any comfort. I know this is normal and will pass… I just wish it would hurry up.
“Heaven & Earth (Project X)” off of King Crimson’s “ConstruKction of Light” is playing. A perfect soundtrack for the last month. A sad start, then a sudden flurry of activity, followed by resolve and then the end. I feel I am at that mournful Fripp guitar solo part right now. No sound or music better sums up how this is…
Maggie is down tomorrow. That will help.
Monday September 30, 2002: Triple X
I met up with Geri tonight and we went to see a movie. I had hoped to see “Road to Perdition” but it has come and gone. Instead we saw the new action monstrosity Triple X or XXX or whatever they call it. I am still trying to scrape the images out off my tongue.
Oh yes, it was a “fun”, “action-packed”, and a “twist” on the spy theme… Or if you prefer it was a ridiculous over budgeted B-movie cross between “The Dirty Dozen”, James Bond clichés and all “extreme” style beverage advertisements circa 1992. All squeezed through a teenager’s zit and squirted onto your Playstation 2 X Box Cube.
You remember those snowboarding out of airplanes while drinking some cola commercials they used to have? Now imagine that with LOTS of explosions.
Van Dewezil or whatever that guys name is has always bugged me. He bugs me in the same way the Nicolas Cage does (with the exception of “Wild at Heart”). He’s sort of dopey. Not dopey in a fun way or a good way. He’s dopey like a lacrosse player. One too many whacks to the skull. Punch drunk. You know… STUNNED.
So to be fair I guess I was doomed to be annoyed by this movie just because I have to look at him for two hours.
So there’s these bad guys right… and they kill the James Bond guy because of course he didn’t have the “Street knowledge” so the secret NSA guys have to recruit some hard-ass mo fo’s (Dirty Dozen!) to do the job instead…
This movie was sadly written by people of my generation. Of this I am both sure and ashamed. Only someone born between 1963 and 1966 would think a GTO is the coolest car possible. (Because it is of course!)
TEN STREET KNOWLEDGE KICK ASS HERO GUIDELINES AS DEFINED BY 36 YEAR-OLD HOLLYWOOD SCRIPT WRITERS
1) Have lots of stupid tattoos so you are easily identifiable
2) Drive a flash car (GTO)
3) Talk like rappers do on MTV
4) Hold your gun sideways
5) Lots of mini-bike hero type jumps over stuff
6) Explosions
7) More explosions
8) Bad guy must have LONG hair
9) Good guy must shave head to hide balding or grey
10) Cool electronic spy gear
The horror….
The horror…
And as if it wasn’t bad enough I had to look at Dim Weasel for two hours… I had to look at Prague!
I shouldn’t see movies like this. I should know better. It was fun to see it with Geri… But any movie is fun to see with her. Even the truly awful “Simon Sez” was fun to see with Geri. And THERE was a truly awful movie. Oddly no more awful than this one. It just had a budget that was as poor as the movie itself. Triple X had a lot of money behind it. Which means bigger guns, bigger stunts, and bigger explosions.
The big problem I have with movies like this is my inability to suspend disbelief. I can do it watching science fiction… but war or action movies are pure torture. Blame it on my Father, blame it on the Halifax Rifles or blame it on my library card but I can’t watch a movie like Tripe-hell X without seeing every single mistake regarding firearms or tactics and getting really upset about it… For me people holding their weapons sideways is like finger-nails being dragged down a chalk board.
I guess I will just have to stick to romantic comedies from now on. I know nothing about romance so it’s easy to believe what I see up there on the screen.
Sunday September 29, 2002: Taikoz & Hiroko Kokubu
Tonight I went to see the Taikoz Australian Japanese Drum Group perform at the Bangkok Festival of Dance and Music. Pat from the H-D Massive invited me along with Miles, Neal and some others. The event was inconveniently held as far off the BTS line as possible, and riding there in the taxi I kept wondering exactly where I was, and whether or not the cabbie even knew where he was going. Eventually after half an hour of driving in bad weather and bad traffic we came to an area that in North America would be perfect for random strip-mall drive by shootings. However hiding back from the main road, behind walls and trees was a huge arts center.
There were a lot of people, all well to do, or expats connected to embassies and NGO’s. They were dressed up and I felt slightly out of place in jeans, t-shirt and a MEC raincoat. In a way it reminded me of my TMYC days, coming into Roy Thomson Hall almost late, fearing the wrath of our conductor Bob Cooper, and pushing my way past all the mucky mucks towards the dressing room. They’d look at me with distain, long hair and leather jacketed fellow that I was then, but an hour later they’d be applauding us, impressed with such wonderful sounding young people looking so angelic in our matching uniforms.
I had some difficultly locating Pat, her sisters and her friend among the concert goers but thanks to my newly functional mobile contact was made. Miles and Neal got stuck outside when part of the Royal Family showed up. I believe it was the King’s Sister and her entourage with the Japanese and Australian Ambassadors. They all came in together under tight security. Once they had passed inside we were allowed climbed the many flights of stairs to our seats and awaited the show.
The first half of the concert featured a Japanese jazz pianist named Hiroko Kokubu. She had a bass player, a drummer and a keyboard player and together they pumped out some quite crowd pleasing but sterile “jazz”. The first piece they did prompted the words “STARBUCKS JAZZ COMPILATION CD” to pop up in my head. It was pretty much down-hill from there. Technically they were all great players and that was the whole problem from my point of view. It was technical in a way that defeated the notion of what jazz is supposed to be. It had the feeling of watching a really gifted child play piano. You are impressed that they can play a thousand times better than you will ever be able to, but once they stop playing you have forgotten what is was they were banging out.
There was also a tremendous amount of chit chat between each song, made even more tedious by it being in either broken English or Japanese then translated into Thai. There were a few strange solos during the course of events. Most notably a drum solo that impressed all but reminded me far too much of every single drum portion of a sound check that I have ever heard.
“Toms…”
Thumpa thump thump… thump thump thump…
“Okay, now the bass drum…”
Bump… Bump… Bump…
“Okay now the whole kit…”
The bass solo was even weirder, starting with this scatting thing then going into a “solo”… I tried not laugh, thinking to myself…
“On bass… Deric Smalls… He wrote this…”
The ultimate sin of the whole show was the second keyboard player. I have often wondered why brand new keyboards are always packed full of useless, annoying, cheesy sounds that must be deleted en mass before any real music can be made. Now I know. People like this fellow. What sounds was he choosing to use? Digital Wheeze? Cheese-ball Organ? How about the most annoying sound in the world… The 1980s frequency modulation Pan Flute sound… A cross between Zamphir’s flute and a dentist’s drill being driven through your forehead. A wheezy-cheesy sound, scientifically designed to make anyone who’s ever played a Mini-Moog want to kill themselves. It hangs in the same thin frequencies of a clock radio alarm that keeps coming back despite multiple blows to the snooze button. By the third piece I wanted to run down, leap on to the stage and smash both the keyboard and the hands of fellow playing it.
I thought some relief was in coming my way when the band left leaving just Ms. Hirioko to entertain us on the grand piano… Instead she subjected us to a jazzed up version of “Climb Every Mountain”… Sadly it was lacking the drunken irony that someone like Kevin Quain would have at least thrown in to make it fun.
Intermission came none too soon.
After half-time the Australian-Japanese drum ensemble Taikoz came on stage and blew everyone’s minds. I have never seen this style of Japanese drumming live before, and it was outstanding both to watch and to listen to. It was like watching incredibly skilled and fit martial artists… except instead of fighting or performing katas, they were beating the shit out of a variety of drums. Even when they were playing quietly the control and power behind of what they were doing never seemed to lessen. I have never seen any musicians that physical.
The multi-layered rhythms were completely entrancing and it reminded a lot of seeing The Phillip Glass Ensemble play. They stopped on a dime, changed meter, varied speed, and moved from drum to drum with a clear disciplined purpose. There was one drum that was played on a reclined sitting angle, the drummers legs stretched out in front and on either side, almost underneath it. Watching them play it was incredible. To be able to physically sit at such an odd angle, and hit the thing with such power would require a set of stomach muscles that a martial artist would envy.
The intensity of the performance was punctuated with flute solos played on several different sized wooden flutes. The sound a soothing relief after the annoying DX-7 thing we’d been subjected to earlier. The show ended with a light-hearted piece, which began with the drummers coming out to the audience and urging us all to clap along. They were clearly having fun and it was a good way to finish things off after such an impressive display of super-human drumming.
Friday September 27, 2002: UP?
I picked up the new Peter Gabriel CD “UP” yesterday. I have listened to it several times. Like the newest Bowie… I am undecided in a way. I like it a lot… It’s twice as good as 90 percent of the prefabricated crap that leaks from the dying pop music dragon. But it’s not GREAT. Which is what I want. GREAT like the first time I heard “Security” in 1982. I had NEVER heard anything like it. It was almost scary. It was dark and weird and spooky. Sampling was new then. Electronic drums were as well.
That said… “UP” is darker and spookier than anything PG has done is a while. I sort of wonder what happened between 1999 when it was supposed to come out and now. Where’s its “positive” feel that Gabriel was always talking about. Why the delay? Why THESE songs? Why so spooky?
It’s easy to pick apart someone else’s music so I am reluctant to do that. I wasn’t there when he recorded it or wrote it, and I haven’t listened to it on head phones yet… And I am not qualified to say much about someone like Gabriel…
However… I think for me the problem with “UP” (which may also be the problem with Bowie’s “Heathen”) is that the songs are perhaps too produced. Too much thought was put in, or too much effort has been put forth trying to come up with something better…
“Security” was outstanding because it was done with totally new technology, forcing Peter Gabriel to not only change his way of writing, but to learn and experiment on the way. Perhaps that’s what’s wrong on this. It’s in the spooky spirit that Gabriel used to have before all that Sledgehammer nonsense, but it just isn’t innovative the way “Security” was.
As an aside to all this, the inclusion of “I Grieve” on the CD strikes me as strangely timed. I first heard this in 1998 on the sound track to “City Of Angels” right when I had first learned my Mother was dying of cancer and I have always associated this song with that loss. This is a slightly different version but the timing is… appropriate.
Being back in Bangkok has given the time to do exactly that.
Grieve. Only this time for Maralyn.
It was only one hour ago
It was all so different then
Nothing yet has really sunk in
Looks like it always did
This flesh and bone
Is just the way that we are tied in
But there's no one home
I grieve for you
And you leave me
So hard to move on
Still loving what's gone
Say life carries on
Carries on and on and on and on
The news that truly shocks
Is the empty, empty page
While the final rattle rocks
Its empty, empty cage
And I can't handle this
I grieve for you
You leave me
Let it out and move on
Missing what's gone
Say life carries on
Say life carries on and on and on
Life carries on in the people I meet
In everyone that's out on the street
In all the dogs and cats
In the flies and rats
In the rod and the rust
In the ashes and the dust
Life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Just the car that we ride in
The home we reside in
The face that we hide in
The way we are tied in
As life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Did I dream this belief
Or did I believe this dream
Now I will find relief
I grieve
Wednesday September 25, 2002: Help Me Spoooock…
My sleep patterns are making even less sense than they did in Canada. With the strange sleep come the even stranger dreams. In one my Father and I sat and watched this band playing. The only thing less likely than my Father watching a band with me was that we were watching a band that I was in. In another dream Celia and I were fleeing “Dawn of the Dead” type Zombies in a big 1970’s American build gas guzzler. Thank God I had a shotgun. Then there was the dream where Heir W and I were in the 880 Bathurst kitchen, listening to some really obscure and fictional musician named Bill Baxton. This fictional musician was some cohort of Brian Eno and Heir W had an original action figure of him to show me. Cool…
That is just a small sampling of the nonsense that has been racing through my skull. You are welcome to speculate on the meanings. Send your conjectures to ldthomson@drop-d.com and perhaps I’ll post them.
I stumbled across “Star Trek: The Motion Picture” on HBO this afternoon. That was sort of jarring, as I haven’t seen it in many many years. I was there, lined up like an idiot in 1978 when it was first released, and OH WERE WE DISAPPOINTED BY IT… The reasons that it was so disappointing then (plot rip off of an old episode, unexplained mutation of the Klingons, unfamiliar uniforms) have been toned down with time and half a dozen Star Trek TV franchises. So what I ended up watching seemed like a lost episode. It seemed more like Star Trek than anything I’ve seen in ages… It WAS Star Trek. Right down to Kirk’s weird hair and his stilted way of talking.
The other thing that struck me was the effects. They remain absolutely amazing. They look great. Why? Because they AREN’T COMPUTER GENERATED THEREFORE DON’T LOOK COMPUTER GENERATED. They don’t look cluttered; they don’t look two dimensional… I do remember being impressed by them on the big screen. It’s a real tribute to the once Lords of SFX, Dykstra and Trumbull that they remain looking as good as they do.
The end of the story still seems a bit lame. The fact that they stole the idea from a previous episode still sucks… But it was nice to see some science fiction that didn’t contain endless mindless violence, and annoying computer generated stuff. A vision of the future that was actually hopeful. The whole popularity of the original series was based on that hopeful view. The notion that during those turbulent times in the 1960’s that we’d somehow come through it all and not blow ourselves up… something all the later Star Trek series seem to have lost touch with. Something we could use more of now… that and more albums with William Shatner singing…
By the way…
Snooty the fish didn’t live to see me return. He’s gone to that big fish tank in the sky.
Bummer.
