Back to Bras

Its amazing the stench you acquire after marinating on a plane for 13 hours in the same clothes and a hangover. My eyelids look glossy and greasy and my hair is matted in Bangkok smog. The wine I ordered on the flight from Tokyo to compliment my Ambien spills down my white jeans. Now I sit amongst business people I assume, on the connecting flight from Seattle to San Diego and I’m wondering how horribly I wreak to the nicely dressed woman next to me. My leather beaded bracelets and tan weathered hands look awkward next to her silver ones accentuating her nicely manicured fingers. I sense I’m returning to reality. I haven’t been surrounded by this many Americans in 25 days. Although its refreshing knowing I’m able to have a full on conversation with anyone around me , it twinges a feeling from deep inside somewhere. A empty sort of feeling, the feeling of being part of the crowd again, the feeling of normalcy. 15 or so hours ago I was drinking Singha in a Thai strip club. Sleeping before a flight is overrated anyway right? Especially when it leaves at 3 in the morning. Now I’m hours from San Diego. And the flight attendant asks me if I would like ice in my glass.

Surreal.

A sunrise looks amazing from the sky. Its going to be a beautiful day.

I'm going to miss:

Buying fresh Papaya from the street vendors.

The sound of the school children across from my hotel on Soi 8

Black sesame soymilk and Genmai green tea from 711

The challenge of turning each hotel room into a gym

Techno music and seafood dinner on Leela’s Beach

Fight club is Amazing

Tyler Durden: From now on, all those with shaved heads: "Space Monkeys".

Tyler Durden: We're consumers. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don't concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy's name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra.

Narrator: Martha Stewart.

Tyler Durden: Fuck Martha Stewart. Martha's polishing the brass on the Titanic. It's all going down, man. So fuck off with your sofa units and Strinne green stripe patterns.

Tyler Durden: Fuck off with your sofa units and string green stripe patterns, I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let... lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may.

Marla Singer: Your whacked out bald freaks hit me with a fucking broom! They almost broke my arm! They were burning their fingertips with lye, the stink was unbelievable!

Marla Singer: My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.

Tyler Durden: Now a question of etiquette; as I pass, do I give you the ass or the crotch...?

Only Experiences. Last Day in Bangkok

finally made it back to Bangkok from Koh Pahgan. Soi 8 in Sukhumvit almost feels a little bit like home. We check into the ol' Stable Lodge after a 15 hour trek across Thailand. 3 hours on the ferry, 8 hours on a bus, it was a decent bus this time thank god. Guess you can only hope for the best, for you have no control. Couldn't sleep again, milled around the room till 4 in the morning, something about this city makes me unable to sleep.

The time alloted to you to think while traveling is almost scary. What else do you do on a 8 hour bus ride or a 20 hour plane ride? After the Ambien is gone, the Ipod has died, and you can recite the lines from every movie you have. You have even resorted to playing Mash, I Spy, and 21(which was actually a new one for me).

I couldn't help but think how small and meager our existence's are on this planet. Something about transferring from hotel to hotel, from bus to train, from train to ferry, from ferry to car, from car to airplane. Something about the millions of people you sit next to, to the thousands of places you stand, to all the ticket stubs, to the cheap cart food you buy... something about the whole entire process just makes you feel very. small. All the effort it can take you, a small person, with millions of other small people to get from a simple point A, to a simple point B makes you feel like your drowning in a pool of water.

To Move around a dozen times, pack, unpack, and repack in 2 days at a time. To open a new hotel room, the sheets are clean, the towels are folded waiting, small servings of shampoo and soap set aside, little keys and room cards. With no remnants of a previous party. A previous soul. Then as your give up your key and your towels they are discarded and stripped, everything is refolded, re pressed, re done.

Your existence was nothing.

You take only your experiences with you.

The Eye of the Beholder

be it asian, british, german, or african women we are all the same. some want our ass as tan as our face, some want those nice breasts, slender waist and accomidating hips. Some want there face as white as their ass, here to Thai woman that is beauty. Some relish their small breasts and small tummys. seeing a beach full of racially mixed women every morning sprawled out topless soaking in all the tropical sun they possibly can has given me a glimpse. No matter where you are we all want to be beautiful.

they buy whitening cream, we buy tanning packages and darkening creme.

others lift there dripping bikini edges to make sure there tan line has changed a significant amount.

some lay topless and exposed with no shame.

In the Name of Paradise

some 2 or so days ago i attended a rave in the middle of the jungle, slept the almost the whole entire next day on the beach, tops are optional here. then ate steamed snapper on a glowing strand of white sand lit by the setting sun, with no one around besides the Thais cooking my fish and a small group of backpackers shooting the shit in some language i couldn't make out.

I am woken last night by lightning, thunder and pounding rain that sounds as if it might break through our shitty bungalow roof. The price you pay for stepping out your front door into aqua sea. the coil springs from the mattress seem to be implanted in my spine and Zach has pulled off all of the sheet we use as a blanket, not that its cold, but for the sense of security.

8:00 AM

we open our bungalow door to sheets of rain. Today we ned to find a 4x4 vehicle that will take us to the eastern side of the island. There is a secluded cove we are trying to find for the remainder of our stay. With our bags packed we head out into the rain

12:00

by the time we get our arrangements to the east we are soaked, but we've found someone to take us. I hop in the truck and it reeks of pot, which actually makes me a bit homesick. a small Thai man with long hair and a mustache sit behind the wheel, he looks too small to reach the pedals. we winds through dirt roads and jungle foliage that brings us to the cove we've been longing for. Nothing like the Trashed Had Rin. A cluster of bungalows line the white sands and speckle out onto the cliffs. The storm has rattled the cove and the river that runs into it has turned it a murky brown that then fades into aqua in the horizon. our bungalow is amoungst the cliffs overlooking the cove, built into it, boulders line the back wall.

Present.

Im still in a dream. I sit in restaurant style dig, under a coconut lined canopy. I am the only american everywhere i go. Most speak french or hail heavy accents from South Africa and beyond. Nothing i fluently understand. The cove is churning and the rain still falls in sheets. people sit on platforms littered with pillows and low tables sipping Singha and fruit juices waiting for the sun.

I am waiting for the sun, this is the second day of heavy rain. I've grown so dark here i dont recognize myself as i look down.

bummin

so not all vacations are all good, all the time. I told myself i was going to completely embrace the experience, and I'm seriously trying. sometimes you get homesick, and bummed and you just want to stop living out of a suitcase and a strange bathroom and just pee on your own toilet. And not have to sleep in overnight ferries next to european backpackers or sit on squeaking bumpy sweaty sticky busses for two and a half hours. But you know what, thats what its all about. its all about the journey. and i need to remember that.

tomorrows a new day

Dreams

in thailand, or perhaps in the greater asia area, on new years eve thousands of people light a paper lantern, and as it fills with hot air its set free into the new years eve sky.

As far as i can see across the black horizon it is speckled with tiny flickering lanterns. small children and adults alike push there lanterns up into the air. there is a quietness... a universal calm across the beach as people whisper there wishes to themselves. Its almost like a dream, the strangeness of it. i wake in the morning wondering if it was real.

i feel that often here.

Cha Am... was interesting. What's even more interesting is I'm sitting here smoking a Swedish cigarette... from some Swedish couple... it took a while to get them to understand that all i wanted was a smoke.

I don't even smoke. But the moment called you know? Especially because I'm celebrating, what you ask? The best fucking photo i've ever taken.

Thai beer and Swedish cigarets never tasted to good.

Game Plan:

Tomorrow we leave at 8:00 for some off chart town to post up until we hit the south western coast of Krabi, we take off on bus to the gulf coast to Kho Phangan January 4th.

A Glimpse of Religion A Piece of Coming Closer to Undertstanding What Intruige's

You Most

To have the opportunity, to be given such a gift

to see others as you never have.

Raw and alone, in their own

is truly the only gift you will ever need.

On Running in Thailand:

1. instead of guys calling out hey sexy, they say good morning. WTF

2. the smell of fish stands kind of just makes you want to ... stop.

3. It closely resembles running in Florida, hot and sticky.

4. sidewalks here are more commonly used for street vendors, not running, you silly american.

5. at 1.5 you want to get a beer and chill on the beach.

6. running barefoot in the sand is probably your best bet... until you step on a jellyfish

Conclusion: running in 3rd world countries is a grade 4 difficulty level.

so i swim. on the roof of the 25th floor. in bangkok.

Raw Muscles and Thai Whiskey??

it was Zach's idea

A Normal Day

The Land of Crazy Shit

is what they should have named this place. If you don't want rice with your chicken and vegetables, or your fish balls they look at you like you have a third eyeball right in the center of your forehead.

Im not usually a fan of white rice, but i've learned to like it these last 5 days, because if you dont eat your rice, the pea sized piece of fish and vegetable they gave you wont last you longer than 5 minutes.

And then then they'll be looking at you like you have 4 eye balls because you want MORE food.

yesterday we went to Pattaya, otherwise known as Sin City, an extremely large northern beach town i believe was formed specifically for large european men between the ages of 45 and 70. I can officially say i've seen more hookers than any Amercian boy has. ever. every street, every corner, every bar. and that basically concludes Pattaya.

today was cooler, we went to the JJ market in Bangkok. I've never seen so many things for sale. 5 acres of shit. Thai Silk, tableware,baskets, bags, jewelry, and squirrels. yes. squirrels. tucked in between rows or shirts and western handbags was a small thai lady selling furry little squirrels. They had thin ropes tied around their necks and on to a cage. they all sat, kind of miserable looking. It was sad and cute all at the same time. we left a little early because Zach is now sick. the joys of traveling.

Tomorrow we check out and head to a northern beach town, i keep forgetting the names here. ill document it when i hear it again.

sah wah see cahh - Hello

taii loo noi cahh - can i take your picture ...which hasent been very effective.

thaoo rai - how much?

ngaam - beautiful

Mob.

life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intension

of arriving safely in a attractive and well preserved body,

but rather to skid in sideways,whisky in one hand weed in the other hand,

body totally used up worn out and screaming:

"WOO HOO what a ride!"

Merry Christmas.

the art of being ill

i was waiting for this, i thought i'd almost get away with it. im on the other side of the world, and im sick in bed. Do you mob hard? or do you get better so you can mob even harder?

I cant lay around here anymore im going to go nuts.

I came to the conclusion if you want to take good pictures of people you need to be ugly. Perhaps not be ugly, but look ugly. If you look ugly then people don't notice you, and you can squeeze in unnoticed, successfully taking pictures of whomever you want.

nights turn into days

it amazes me, citys do. no matter your condition they just keep going. All day and all night without mercy. And no matter what side of the world your on, there all the same.

my clock is horribly off. i fell asleep at 5 or so and now its 2 and i cant go back to sleep. i feel like a crack head. but i kind of like it, the disturbance in all my normal rituals. its nice for everything to be so terribly different. I'm actually kind of in love. i've never been so inspired, and i feel so alive. this is know is what we live for, to feel this way at some point in life. to be in such a place like this and not have a full blown passion for life and everything around you i will never understand.

Today we visited the Grand Palace, after we were ordered to dress from head to toe in clothing of course. I would have taken pictures of it but every other tourist with their big camera, nike shoes, and button up Hawaiian shirts took them for me. Instead i found a corner where some people were praying and shot that.

The palace was truly amazing, the detail, the perfection. But i figure you either see it, or you don't. Pictures of historical monuments are so cliche. We went to eat lunch on the river after. So many people everywhere its overwhelming. I don't know how they all fit. we took the river boat from the Palace to the restaurant. the food is much different here. Some dishes are the same, Todd gets mad when we order "Americanized" Thai dishes. Which is understandable. Zach orders pad Thai.... we down about 6 23 oz. Singha beers amongst the table and Linda gets a little flustered. Im buzzed and i feel like rolling my eyes. I cant wait to go down south, but Todd says it will be just as packed... personally i don't care. i just want to see the beach. Although the amount of tourists is a little ridiculous.

everyone tries to do something different, but you always wind up doing the same damn thing.

kap koon cah - Thank you (for women)

always push food onto your spoon with your fork.

picking your nose is culturally accepted

always carry around a long skirt with you

its hot as fuck(even though its december)

survived the first night

we arrive in Bangkok at 11:16 PM ...23 hours after we took off in San Diego. i can smell myself through my clothes and it makes me kind of sick. I chose not to eat anything. Im more scared of plane food than i am of a Bangkok street vendor stir frying me chicken on a corner next to 10 Thai whores at 12 o'clock at night. Ken and Linda's friend was amusing to say the least, i don't know why but he makes me want to smile, his energy is

contagious. he picked us up from the airport, in his shiny, leather seated black SUV and swiftly raced through the turmoil of downtown, safely getting us to our hotel. Its small and shabby but clean. I like it. It has character. Me and Zach cant sleep... weve been sleeping for the last 16 hours in one of the most miserable hot zones you can be, coach on an airplane. We walk down the street to try and find food and water. Its overwhelming not having a single clue what anyone is saying. At least italian and spanish are recognizable. here, we are lost. After a few soups with floating "fish balls" and some tonic we head back to the room to intoxicate. Im wired, i feel as though i could stay up all night and talk. We pop two tiny white Ambien and drink gin and tonics. Zach feels it too soon and says that there's two of me laying on the bed, he starts talking in third person... and stares out the window for 10 minutes saying theres someone on the patio when it is in fact his own reflection. Fact: Zach and Ambein to not mix. My eyes feel heavy and dreamy and i can no longer hold them open. It is morning. I snap a few pictures off my balcony. The smog is so thick in the distance i cant see past a few buildings. Its hot and humid and i begin to feel like im back in Florida for a brief moment.

To Drift Away

i believe i came within two hairs short of failing all my classes this semester. I mean, i dont want to speak too soon or anything. The worst part is, i dont care.

I have anticipated tonight for the whole entire semester.

Being finished with school.

And as i exit the stuffy classroom sardined with way too many kids all staring blankly at each other with that fuck me look on their face, i don't see a crowd whistling and cheering me on for getting through the semester.

I don't feel accomplished, or proud.

I feel beat, and kind of sad that its over.

I feel kind of like downing a bottle of whiskey standing in my truck bed in a desolate field(which is plentiful where i live) and blasting something depressing and cliche like Matchbox Twenty.

Im leaving in 3 days. And i've never felt so alone... and unaccomplished. Is this what schools suppose to feel like? You work your ass of to tire yourself out? To end up hating conforming? To end up wanting to tell everyone to just Fuck Off? To have this empowering feeling that i can and will do whatever ever the fuck i want weather it be for good or for worse; and nothing you can do, or say is going to stop me?

Is that good? or Rebellious? or Naive?

or D. none of the above?