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balance (2): sabai

Monday, January 10, 2005


somehow i just got over the stress of last week, which had become like a lump of crumpled foil in my center, and sorely needed shedding. i stopped creating monsters in my head and started breathing again. it’s not too difficult here, amongst sun-browned friends with lazy smiles. the concept of taking things day by day is starting to make more sense to me. i have a secret family hidden in the jungle, trying to survive with the minimum of contact with civilization. society is taxing, we just stop and say hi to it every now and then, but don’t suckle from it like infants (though we really should if we want to continue to eat). it’s free-ing to not have to meet the demands of others, or even yourself. life is purely a series of passing sensations here.

we slap each other like siblings. we fall asleep hanging off of hammocks and grump at each other for being boring. we philosophize fuzzy-headedly and share stories. we are: me (hello), ot the doe eyed lover, and whit, who scurries a lot when he’s not hiding, and who has an unfortunate tendency to let his gangster friends dj. there is a large happy british guy named geeda who has fast become our friend, and his comfortingly normal girlfriend rosie (who is just that). they bring movies and tequila, which i hold my nose and gulp. not to mention the odd thai boy who crashes through on motorbike for a chat, or whit’s shy thai wife who drops off tuna and corn pizzas... and his lovely loquacious daughter (nong fart) who turns 5 today and tries to teach me words between giggles. occasionally ot and i venture out to visit the lonely monk at the monastery, the healing herbal steamroom at the temple, the 7-11 in thong sala, the snorkelling beach at mae haad. we topple down the hill to ao noi and watch flamboyant nikki the travelling hairdresser shave his own tattoed head and read tarot cards to stray children. we fight, we make up, we sleep intertwined. in the morning i lay in the sun and bake all the thoughts out of my head, letting in only the cool sound of waves slapping the sand at my feet.

i am full of creative energy and it is not even a full moon. i make everything from peanut butter sandwiches to candle sculptures. i’ll throw a film like ‘city of god’ or ‘natural born killers’ on to mystify passersby (that weird antisocial bent i have to test an audience) and mix sensuous and abundant cuisine in the kitchen with ot on which to feast. we sit and breathe open air in quiet, listening to jungle sounds. at night we tap fingers, joke around, wait for something interesting to happen. i saw a marmoset climbing tentatively along the power lines towards our light. my buddhist friend romeo tries to convert me. i dance secretly and talk with the toads and loopy german hippies. happy the dog begs for food and tries to bite thai visitors.

otto has determined that i can not survive here with no income and wants to drag me off to bangkok (or is it the other way around?)... i feel a responsibility to go to bangkok but no desire whatsoever. i want to while away my life in pleasant dreamlike boredom. i do have to leave tomorrow for malaysia though and i don’t plan on making any more decisions until i am there, in my own space in my own head, back in real life.

as an aside which is hearfelt, i am sorry to my former best friend, whose feelings i probably hurt as unwittingly as he hurt mine. and i bid him adieu with good luck. if something is undeniable then it won’t be denied. loved than lost, and all that...

reading has saved my life all my life, and right now i am teeth sunk into a novel of curious delight by a feminist chinese writer. i hated her unabashedly girly style at first but then i realized she is a lot like me and of course warmed nicely to that fact. :) wei hui.

here are some quotes she’s collected which i like:

“i am reluctant to let my young daughter appear in public and face the cruelty of life. she should remain in our living room as much as possible.” –sigmund freud

“every woman adores a fascist,
the boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.” –sylvia plath, ‘daddy’

“the key is on the windowsill,
in the sunlight before the window.
i have that key, eileen, let’s get married!
don’t get high,
the key is in the sunlight before the window.” -ginsberg


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