---
i'm at a P.T.T. gas station buying some snackies in the convenience store. there's a handful of people inside the spot, and they're all browsing. the line is short enough and i decide that i have enough snacks. i'm ready to purchase.
i'm standing at the counter looking the 18 year-old attendant dude in the eyes, and he said hello. i'm placing my to-be-bought items on the counter and scooting them forwards a little, as if to signify their status as 'ready to be transferred as consumer goods' into 'personal items for private consumption.'
zzziiip! an old man stealthily ninjas his way somehow under my arm and places his single can of Leo beer on the counter. with his other (slight-of) hand, he pushes a crumpled old pair of twenty-baht bills right past, up and into the open hands of the attendant.
'a-buuuh??' my reaction is. where did such an old man come from. surely a vapor of a creeping entity such as this has the years of such a practice firmly under his belt.
i'm sort of quixotically looking at counter-dude now, an internal wondering feeling coursing through my body. i'm about to reinstate my products to their previous status as goods to be paid for...all of a sudden (!!!) the old man's ninja-ass buddy is coming at me from the low and left!
'whhhaaaa??!?,' i'm asking with my now all cock-eyed crazy look. he too is well practiced at the art of sneaky tom-foolery i can see. his hands already thinking out the process of cutting in front of me, not a care in all of the glowing silver hairs on his speckled head.
i mean, all dude is going to do is ice that bland pee-water beer down anyways, as is the style due to the temperature here. i am laughing out loud and no one gets me, cause no one here cares about lines or queues or the structure of waiting or patience in any form. it is a laughable occasion.
i'm thinking to myself 'am i ever going to leave this line ever, or just wither here in the heat of multiple ninja-like old men buying drunk-in-a-can all ninja-gaiden style?' the electronical 'boop/beep doong-doo' noises blip on and off as more people enter and exit the store; each one has a secret plan to wait for no one at all, and i'm standing there like a seashell in the ocean.
---
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Monday, November 29, 2004
" story # 4: sometimes there are no words "
---
i'm speaking with a friend of mine who lives in the south. her father is a policeman in pattani, one of the three deep southernmost provinces currently in a very violent period.
she tells me he has been shot and is in the ICU. she is sobbing through the words. i am crying on the phone and all i can think is, "this is too much." my hand is shaking and she tells me she has to go.
---
i'm speaking with a friend of mine who lives in the south. her father is a policeman in pattani, one of the three deep southernmost provinces currently in a very violent period.
she tells me he has been shot and is in the ICU. she is sobbing through the words. i am crying on the phone and all i can think is, "this is too much." my hand is shaking and she tells me she has to go.
---
Sunday, November 28, 2004
" story # 3: on going 'home' and leaving "
---
i'm on my way back down to the house. the island is beckoning my soul to fly towards it with a radiant light. the sun sits on the mantle of noon, marking is path with a soft glowing warmth.
i'm scared. it's the fear of having to leave this place. leaving in such a brief moment of time. this is the place that so many things about my Self could be explored and smoothed out; the crumpled unknown personal history of mine boxed-up for so long.
crossing the bridge to the island, i can see the numerous fisherman's nets situated in the shallows; the sun glistening on the water and all of a sudden the great golden body of a reclining buddha beams into my view. it's an overwhelming sight, and i know i'm home.
the house is about four to five years old. it's a beautiful open and spacious home with an ancient thai-styled theme to the structure. there is a calm and languid breeze that gently blows through the quiet small grove of fruit trees.
my grandmother looks great. she is 96 years-old. she's sitting up at i walk into her room, which is bathed in a brilliant daylight. she looks at me in the eyes and smiles. she knows who i am, and we hold hands and just stare at each other. all around me is laughter and delight.
i can't bear to tell her i'm only staying for one night, because i don't want her to be heartbroken. she demands to get into her wheelchair and be carted around outside, so that we can spend the most time together as possible. we have never actually spoken words between us. not ones that both of us have understood anyways. i can count the times on one hand that we have been in each other's company, and this meeting marks a sixth time.
my uncle is driving my mom and i back out to to the city of Songkhla. my mom and i are sharing our last morning together, before i have to return to bangkok. we speak about when she is going home and about how i feel about being here; almost all alone sometimes. the countryside floats by like a leaf on a river.
a long stretch of silence wedges itself in our space for a bit, then i find myself dreamingly looking out of the window at the beach of my childhood passing by in the morning sun. i look over to her, and we had one of those unspoken moments that define connection and understanding. she says to me, as if on some unearthly beautiful cue, "this is life."
i am almost losing it right there in the car, but i'll save most of it for the mini-van-ride home. i love my mom for this moment and for so much more. she is telling me that soon she's going to have to cut her hair. for the past few weeks she's had to keep it up in a small ponytail to hide the exact length.
she says in a soft tone that my grandmother knows she's going back to the states when she cuts her hair short; that she knows what it means when my mom cuts her hair short. a deep sadness fills me in the car, because of this small simple nod of respect to my grandmother's heart. we're holding hands and she is shaking. at 96 years-old, my grandmother could do with as little heartbreak as possible.
we're eating breakfast at one of my uncle's restaurants in Songkhla. His eyes are bright but his face hangs sad; a weathered look on the face of a man that know's too much stress. all of my distant relatives are flocking over to the store and bring their friends along. they are holding me by the arms, shaking them wildly and smiling. my body is on fire with happi(a sea of sad)ness; this is the happiness of receiving people who all love and miss you all at once.
all of their comments are echoing in my ears, and i cannot stop smiling; each of their small full praises are breaking my heart one word at a time in succession. i'm standing in the small restaurant and inside i am broken. the clock on the wall ticks away at the last precious moments i have here with a ceaseless brooding rhythm.
---
i'm on my way back down to the house. the island is beckoning my soul to fly towards it with a radiant light. the sun sits on the mantle of noon, marking is path with a soft glowing warmth.
i'm scared. it's the fear of having to leave this place. leaving in such a brief moment of time. this is the place that so many things about my Self could be explored and smoothed out; the crumpled unknown personal history of mine boxed-up for so long.
crossing the bridge to the island, i can see the numerous fisherman's nets situated in the shallows; the sun glistening on the water and all of a sudden the great golden body of a reclining buddha beams into my view. it's an overwhelming sight, and i know i'm home.
the house is about four to five years old. it's a beautiful open and spacious home with an ancient thai-styled theme to the structure. there is a calm and languid breeze that gently blows through the quiet small grove of fruit trees.
my grandmother looks great. she is 96 years-old. she's sitting up at i walk into her room, which is bathed in a brilliant daylight. she looks at me in the eyes and smiles. she knows who i am, and we hold hands and just stare at each other. all around me is laughter and delight.
i can't bear to tell her i'm only staying for one night, because i don't want her to be heartbroken. she demands to get into her wheelchair and be carted around outside, so that we can spend the most time together as possible. we have never actually spoken words between us. not ones that both of us have understood anyways. i can count the times on one hand that we have been in each other's company, and this meeting marks a sixth time.
my uncle is driving my mom and i back out to to the city of Songkhla. my mom and i are sharing our last morning together, before i have to return to bangkok. we speak about when she is going home and about how i feel about being here; almost all alone sometimes. the countryside floats by like a leaf on a river.
a long stretch of silence wedges itself in our space for a bit, then i find myself dreamingly looking out of the window at the beach of my childhood passing by in the morning sun. i look over to her, and we had one of those unspoken moments that define connection and understanding. she says to me, as if on some unearthly beautiful cue, "this is life."
i am almost losing it right there in the car, but i'll save most of it for the mini-van-ride home. i love my mom for this moment and for so much more. she is telling me that soon she's going to have to cut her hair. for the past few weeks she's had to keep it up in a small ponytail to hide the exact length.
she says in a soft tone that my grandmother knows she's going back to the states when she cuts her hair short; that she knows what it means when my mom cuts her hair short. a deep sadness fills me in the car, because of this small simple nod of respect to my grandmother's heart. we're holding hands and she is shaking. at 96 years-old, my grandmother could do with as little heartbreak as possible.
we're eating breakfast at one of my uncle's restaurants in Songkhla. His eyes are bright but his face hangs sad; a weathered look on the face of a man that know's too much stress. all of my distant relatives are flocking over to the store and bring their friends along. they are holding me by the arms, shaking them wildly and smiling. my body is on fire with happi(a sea of sad)ness; this is the happiness of receiving people who all love and miss you all at once.
all of their comments are echoing in my ears, and i cannot stop smiling; each of their small full praises are breaking my heart one word at a time in succession. i'm standing in the small restaurant and inside i am broken. the clock on the wall ticks away at the last precious moments i have here with a ceaseless brooding rhythm.
---
Saturday, November 27, 2004
" story # 2: skeleton jacket "
---
i am giving myself a head massage. it's 2 in the morning and we're driving down to the south. outside, the winds are blowing softly and drizzle is dappling the windows in a dazzling spray.
i am closing my eyes and feeling the places where my skull sinks and dips; the slight protrusions of the ocular sockets, the mandible and how it juts, the cheekbones beneath the skin.
you gotta think about the fact that there's a skeleton in there, somewhere among and below the layers of thin flesh. somehow, it's all connected. all of this raw material somehow clings to this structure of white bone.
i start to think about how you have to take care of this frame, because hey, skeletons get cold sometimes. the bumps in the road cause my body to jerk and shift, and the rain starts to come down harder i turn my attention to nodding off at an awkward angle.
---
i am giving myself a head massage. it's 2 in the morning and we're driving down to the south. outside, the winds are blowing softly and drizzle is dappling the windows in a dazzling spray.
i am closing my eyes and feeling the places where my skull sinks and dips; the slight protrusions of the ocular sockets, the mandible and how it juts, the cheekbones beneath the skin.
you gotta think about the fact that there's a skeleton in there, somewhere among and below the layers of thin flesh. somehow, it's all connected. all of this raw material somehow clings to this structure of white bone.
i start to think about how you have to take care of this frame, because hey, skeletons get cold sometimes. the bumps in the road cause my body to jerk and shift, and the rain starts to come down harder i turn my attention to nodding off at an awkward angle.
---
Friday, November 26, 2004
" loy krathong in light of turkey day "
---
while millions of bush supporters gorge on tetrazine-rampant, toxic turduckens, in thailand, it's the loy krathong festival, which is celebrated on a full moon night in november.
by the waters of the chao praya, i made my wishes and let the krathong drift away upon the river's vast body. children played by the waters edge and candles brightly lit up the river as if a field of stars.
there's something about celebrating a communal event, that doesn't have to do with a moral choice of killing an animal for consumption.
without any blood shed on a mass level signifying the broken treaties of the white man who let loose the pox upon the native peoples of the states, i let the full moon carry away my floating wish into the dark serene night.
(also, what the hell is 'black friday' and do we as a nation(meaning americans) really give a shit? really??)
---
while millions of bush supporters gorge on tetrazine-rampant, toxic turduckens, in thailand, it's the loy krathong festival, which is celebrated on a full moon night in november.
by the waters of the chao praya, i made my wishes and let the krathong drift away upon the river's vast body. children played by the waters edge and candles brightly lit up the river as if a field of stars.
there's something about celebrating a communal event, that doesn't have to do with a moral choice of killing an animal for consumption.
without any blood shed on a mass level signifying the broken treaties of the white man who let loose the pox upon the native peoples of the states, i let the full moon carry away my floating wish into the dark serene night.
(also, what the hell is 'black friday' and do we as a nation(meaning americans) really give a shit? really??)
---
" story #1: acid-wash capital "
---
the sides of most every building seem in disrepair. there are long black streaks covering every whitewashed wall face; their long decrepidating arms yearning downwards to the earth corroding a path to the roots of the foundation.
a false confidence in economic growths have produced a modern consumer who buys cars by the millions, thus producing a capital that chokes in its own 'success.' the environmental woes of this land suffer greatly, as acid rains wash through the streets, and burn slowly away any hint of structural and metrophysical progress.
there are endless numbers of construction projects going on, each at unknown points of development. bamboo scaffolding runs rampant. the other day i saw a man sleeping on a bed of steel bars, while a flatbed truck drove him and it's refined materials to an unknown destination.
it's fascinating that those who have governmental power dream of a pristine strong unified country, leaping back to it's feet from the crumble of the baht in 1997. only 7 years on, i have yet to see any real positive growth.
too much is leaning on the profits of foreign companies. there is no confidence in the countries own resources. OTOP products are rendered nearly useless; a commodified second-rate attempt at reviving the national pride in its own resources. it's the near-last breath of the hopeful.
i walk through the alleyways looking up and ancient structures; the tiles falling to ruin, the metals all tarnished and bronzed beyond recognition, the feeling of old, wasted time, broken promises, an ill-planned revolution.
the train of thought shifts between pride and immense overwhelming sadness. and one feels helpless against the onslaught of progress as it stands. the clouds gather above, dark earthy brown and collectively black; the waters aching for release.
i look to the cracked red eaves of a chinese herbal store for temporary shelter.
---
the sides of most every building seem in disrepair. there are long black streaks covering every whitewashed wall face; their long decrepidating arms yearning downwards to the earth corroding a path to the roots of the foundation.
a false confidence in economic growths have produced a modern consumer who buys cars by the millions, thus producing a capital that chokes in its own 'success.' the environmental woes of this land suffer greatly, as acid rains wash through the streets, and burn slowly away any hint of structural and metrophysical progress.
there are endless numbers of construction projects going on, each at unknown points of development. bamboo scaffolding runs rampant. the other day i saw a man sleeping on a bed of steel bars, while a flatbed truck drove him and it's refined materials to an unknown destination.
it's fascinating that those who have governmental power dream of a pristine strong unified country, leaping back to it's feet from the crumble of the baht in 1997. only 7 years on, i have yet to see any real positive growth.
too much is leaning on the profits of foreign companies. there is no confidence in the countries own resources. OTOP products are rendered nearly useless; a commodified second-rate attempt at reviving the national pride in its own resources. it's the near-last breath of the hopeful.
i walk through the alleyways looking up and ancient structures; the tiles falling to ruin, the metals all tarnished and bronzed beyond recognition, the feeling of old, wasted time, broken promises, an ill-planned revolution.
the train of thought shifts between pride and immense overwhelming sadness. and one feels helpless against the onslaught of progress as it stands. the clouds gather above, dark earthy brown and collectively black; the waters aching for release.
i look to the cracked red eaves of a chinese herbal store for temporary shelter.
---
Thursday, November 25, 2004
" the many ways "
---
so i'm back. bangkok is the place that i find myself at once again, and that's fine.
there are many different ways i can begin to describe the trip down to the south, and many ways to deliver the words. for example, i could begin with hilarity such as this:
- i'm sitting in a room with one of the "for-hire" crewmen for our contest. the lights are out and i can hear him having sex with a girl he picked up not half an hour ago. i'm shit-faced drunk and my brain is on shock shutdown; i feel very out-of-context.
or
- there's something about the sense that someone you're looking at, has the immense potential to be a man, while looking completely like a woman. this is fine, until you begin to walk away, while (s)he starts to cat-call in your direction. i mean, we can be friends, but i just don't swing it like that.
or
- i'm trying to go to bed. it's five o'clock in the morning, and there's a transvestite sleeping/spooning with another one of our road-crew. his/her gay outlandish pimp is trying to feel me up while i watch the "chic fashion" channel on shitty cable. i have to move away a numerous amount of times, before i decide to sleep sitting up in a chair. there is something very odd about this setup, and i really wish it were morning, right now.
of course all of these stories could be shared or expanded upon, but i don't want to go through the remembrance of these particular ones. at least not soon anyhow. better yet, in the following days, i'll provide you with some stories that really affected me, and the things that i would really like to share.
it is a strange strange normal weird-ass world out there people, life will catch you off guard sometimes, and you gotsta be at ready.
more to come soon.
---
so i'm back. bangkok is the place that i find myself at once again, and that's fine.
there are many different ways i can begin to describe the trip down to the south, and many ways to deliver the words. for example, i could begin with hilarity such as this:
- i'm sitting in a room with one of the "for-hire" crewmen for our contest. the lights are out and i can hear him having sex with a girl he picked up not half an hour ago. i'm shit-faced drunk and my brain is on shock shutdown; i feel very out-of-context.
or
- there's something about the sense that someone you're looking at, has the immense potential to be a man, while looking completely like a woman. this is fine, until you begin to walk away, while (s)he starts to cat-call in your direction. i mean, we can be friends, but i just don't swing it like that.
or
- i'm trying to go to bed. it's five o'clock in the morning, and there's a transvestite sleeping/spooning with another one of our road-crew. his/her gay outlandish pimp is trying to feel me up while i watch the "chic fashion" channel on shitty cable. i have to move away a numerous amount of times, before i decide to sleep sitting up in a chair. there is something very odd about this setup, and i really wish it were morning, right now.
of course all of these stories could be shared or expanded upon, but i don't want to go through the remembrance of these particular ones. at least not soon anyhow. better yet, in the following days, i'll provide you with some stories that really affected me, and the things that i would really like to share.
it is a strange strange normal weird-ass world out there people, life will catch you off guard sometimes, and you gotsta be at ready.
more to come soon.
---
Friday, November 19, 2004
" through a southernly route "
---
once known for it's beautiful flourishing rural and engaging land, the southern region of thailand has slowly gained more of what capitalists might call "progressive infrastructure." i tend to see this unnecessary growth as a gaudy veil of national delusion, in the face of the truths regarding the nature of the economy.
there is a widening disparity between what modern thai culture desires, and what it actually has and needs. you ask some kid walking around what is the hot shit of the moment, and (s)he'll probably tell you hip-hop music, or F4 (chinese singing b-band), or something equally pop-americanized or MTV'd. it's sickening that the realities of life aren't hard-pressed into this younger generation, to allow for a really sweeping dramatic change in the coming generations.
this is not to say that there are not people who see that the economic growth isn't important to restructuring the country's post-1997/economic collapse, but there is less exposure due to government pig-headedness/pride/losing face issues, and that's just sad.
when you watch the television programming, which is controlled by a few entities (and boasts a limited scope of worthwhile international information), you can see that the "ideal" lifestyle is one that tends to lean towards money, material, and luxury. it's not something new, but there is almost no adequate representation. it's like trying to sell a diamond ring to a beggar; it looks pleasing to the eye, but there's no reality behind it.
at least not at the present time.
tomorrow i head down to the south of thailand where there is an explosion of violence currently escalating in three of the major provinces. why is this happening? why isn't the government helping out at all. why is it always the poorest people who have the heart to fight against such violence?
why isn't thaksin (the PM of thailand) apologizing for the over 80 deaths in the southern provinces, that the military/police killed while in transport to a jail facility? is it that important to "look good" in the face of factual information. i mean, apologize and create a positive change from a genuine place. more and more each day, his actions resemble those of bush. the lies, the hesitation to admit mistakes were made. the amount of control over the output of media information is frightening.
none of these things help anyone heal or move forward and it's just depressing to think that the people with the most power are this shallow.
there are things happening all over the world that warrant a major global-change, but when will it happen? in the meanwhile, i'm going to visit my family in the south for a few days.
this weeks homework:
learn yourself some real factual knowledge, and try to share it at a local level. create some awareness and facilitate change in your area. eventually that shit will grow and expand. let's get the people that can make the most change, into the limelight, and build something that's really attainable; hope for tomorrow.
---
once known for it's beautiful flourishing rural and engaging land, the southern region of thailand has slowly gained more of what capitalists might call "progressive infrastructure." i tend to see this unnecessary growth as a gaudy veil of national delusion, in the face of the truths regarding the nature of the economy.
there is a widening disparity between what modern thai culture desires, and what it actually has and needs. you ask some kid walking around what is the hot shit of the moment, and (s)he'll probably tell you hip-hop music, or F4 (chinese singing b-band), or something equally pop-americanized or MTV'd. it's sickening that the realities of life aren't hard-pressed into this younger generation, to allow for a really sweeping dramatic change in the coming generations.
this is not to say that there are not people who see that the economic growth isn't important to restructuring the country's post-1997/economic collapse, but there is less exposure due to government pig-headedness/pride/losing face issues, and that's just sad.
when you watch the television programming, which is controlled by a few entities (and boasts a limited scope of worthwhile international information), you can see that the "ideal" lifestyle is one that tends to lean towards money, material, and luxury. it's not something new, but there is almost no adequate representation. it's like trying to sell a diamond ring to a beggar; it looks pleasing to the eye, but there's no reality behind it.
at least not at the present time.
tomorrow i head down to the south of thailand where there is an explosion of violence currently escalating in three of the major provinces. why is this happening? why isn't the government helping out at all. why is it always the poorest people who have the heart to fight against such violence?
why isn't thaksin (the PM of thailand) apologizing for the over 80 deaths in the southern provinces, that the military/police killed while in transport to a jail facility? is it that important to "look good" in the face of factual information. i mean, apologize and create a positive change from a genuine place. more and more each day, his actions resemble those of bush. the lies, the hesitation to admit mistakes were made. the amount of control over the output of media information is frightening.
none of these things help anyone heal or move forward and it's just depressing to think that the people with the most power are this shallow.
there are things happening all over the world that warrant a major global-change, but when will it happen? in the meanwhile, i'm going to visit my family in the south for a few days.
this weeks homework:
learn yourself some real factual knowledge, and try to share it at a local level. create some awareness and facilitate change in your area. eventually that shit will grow and expand. let's get the people that can make the most change, into the limelight, and build something that's really attainable; hope for tomorrow.
---
Thursday, November 18, 2004
" it's a wonder "
---
i was called upon to take photographs at my boss's house last night.
i took approximately 300 photos. and they're great, considering 99% of them are flash-photography pics, and i normally use my flash unit .018% of the time.
she informed me that absolutely none of them can be used for publishing in a newspaper article (which is the reason i was supposed to take the photos in the first place).
nary a single photo fit a passing "look" of what constitutes as usable in a 300k shot-developed-then-scanned-photo file that will ultimately be presented in three-color separation, crappily miniaturized, photoshopped slightly, newspaper articles.
even though i feel somewhat rejected, i have to rhetorically ask,"um...yeah, so what you're saying is...hm, uh so what did you want anyways?"
the silent and empty answer falls parallel to the open-ended question.
---
i was called upon to take photographs at my boss's house last night.
i took approximately 300 photos. and they're great, considering 99% of them are flash-photography pics, and i normally use my flash unit .018% of the time.
she informed me that absolutely none of them can be used for publishing in a newspaper article (which is the reason i was supposed to take the photos in the first place).
nary a single photo fit a passing "look" of what constitutes as usable in a 300k shot-developed-then-scanned-photo file that will ultimately be presented in three-color separation, crappily miniaturized, photoshopped slightly, newspaper articles.
even though i feel somewhat rejected, i have to rhetorically ask,"um...yeah, so what you're saying is...hm, uh so what did you want anyways?"
the silent and empty answer falls parallel to the open-ended question.
---
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
" the other math of tipping "
---
with casual clothes and my shoes on, i weigh 179 pounds.
this means in the almost seven (7) months that i have been here, i have gained about 1.2857142857142857142857142857143 pounds of body weight, per month, on average.
if this trend of weight gain keeps going forward, then by the time my birthday comes around next year, i will be a 181.57142857142857142857142857143-lb. twenty-five (25) year-old.
this is something no one wants to see happen, least of all me.
as of this moment, i am 24 years old . . .
or 1297 weeks old
or 297 months old
or 9082 days old
or 217968 hours old
or 13078087 minutes old
or 784685269 seconds old
and, my next birthday is in: 49 days 6 hrs 53 mins 11 secs
(insert crazed stare into the abyss here)
i'm 5'5" and i'm getting a grip.
---
with casual clothes and my shoes on, i weigh 179 pounds.
this means in the almost seven (7) months that i have been here, i have gained about 1.2857142857142857142857142857143 pounds of body weight, per month, on average.
if this trend of weight gain keeps going forward, then by the time my birthday comes around next year, i will be a 181.57142857142857142857142857143-lb. twenty-five (25) year-old.
this is something no one wants to see happen, least of all me.
as of this moment, i am 24 years old . . .
or 1297 weeks old
or 297 months old
or 9082 days old
or 217968 hours old
or 13078087 minutes old
or 784685269 seconds old
and, my next birthday is in: 49 days 6 hrs 53 mins 11 secs
(insert crazed stare into the abyss here)
i'm 5'5" and i'm getting a grip.
---
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
" i hate the barber "
---
when i was a little kid and up until i was about 13/14, my dad cut my hair. there were no 'if's' 'and's' or 'but's' about it. if he was ready to give my a cut, i was invited to sit down in the "haircut chair." we would break out the chair and set it up in the backyard amidst the fruit trees.
now this chair you see, is still in my basement. everyone that has received a haircut from my dad has sat in this chair. it's cool in the way romper room was cool; sorta FOB-ish, got this foldy-top thingie which sometimes doubles for a footstool of 4.5 feet although we never used it as one, and it's got some 70's-ish orange gradient pattern on the seat, so that's rad.
you would sit down in your undies, no matter the weather status, and he would wrap this barber's dark-blue acrylic sheet around your neck, clipping it with an old wooden clothes-pin. then he would look at you. like really look at you, but in the non-eye-contact way where it was like he could see right through you; see every fault, every detail, everything was laid out for him to study like empty seashells at the beach - exposed and vulnerable.
he would then break out this comb and go at it on your head, scraping and weaving the metal-toothed piece over the moppy landscape of your head. then after a minute, he would give a huff and pick up the clippers, flick a switch, and went to work. my dad doesn't talk much in general, so when he gets into a train of thought, it's usually very instructional, sharing, and educational. it makes it so his silences are powerful, and his discussions are all very passionate, although we were mostly quiet throughout the haircutting time .
the cuts were ritualistic and i knew the steps to follow every time. i knew when to shift the weight of my head, when to lift up my chin or tilt at a specific angle. anything to make it easier and faster. he had this technique of placing his ring finger on the back of my ear while pushing it forwards gently, in order to cut a clean line around the valley above the ear; the vibrations reverberating throughout, tickling those three inner ear-bones something fierce.
and even though i had no clue of this man's ability to cut hair, his training, his background in such activities, i never once doubted him. he was steady-handed and assured in his talent. everytime i was a bother, or cold due to freezing bay area winter weather (which is cold when you're wearing tighty-whities and 7), he would start to tell me about something just to keep me interested at staring ahead at the knotholes in the decrepit fence lining our backyard.
in fact, i was really good at remaining quiet, which may seem like a passive quality, but it gave me time to really focus my thoughts on what i was going to do after the time was over. it seemed in those moments of space, while trying to not be accidentally nicked, that i would let my imagination wander on and on. i had a lot of time to study the shape of my feet for example. besides the usual boredom of such an activity, it was a usually a very freeing experience.
we would connect in a very real way, through this activity; the only noise was nature surrounding us, the scissors snipping at times, and the low monotonous buzzing of the clippers. there was something deeply fulfilling about the whole thing, although i never really liked any of the expert cuts he gave me.
they were the sort of cuts that my mom liked, and that was enough for him to stop. my mom would come down the stairs with something cool to drink when it was hot, and something hot to drink when it was cooler; the fallen autumn leaves the perfect excuse to come outside and snoop.
she would occasionally come down just to check the progress, or yell through the window of our kitchen. my dad would always say, "don't worry, you're next." and she was. he cut everyone's hair that came through the house. my brother, some cousins, anyone that wanted a cut. i wouldn't call him a superhero or anything descriptive like that, but i was impressed.
after the cut was done, he had a "closing down the shop" ritual as well. everything had a step and a place. he would first take a final look at me; walking all around and grunting lowly at certain passes. then he would give me the a-okay. out of the barber-toolbox, he would fish out this huge brush.
i always believed it to be the sort of brush that oversized pirates would scrub decks with, or stable workers would clean off shaggy racehorses with. it was thick-bristled and hurt like hell when he took that sucker to my neck. i've had cuts in seawater that have hurt less. i also believe this is why the skin on the back of my neck is still so sensitive.
he would then remove the sheet and shake it out while i put the chair away, and came back to sweep up the shorn hair clippings. i always took a shower afterwards, which always gave me a great opportunity to see the job he did. my reaction was always the same though; a good clean feeling with the hand, and a slight disappointment with the shape. it was okay though. every time he saw my displeasure, he would remind me that it was free, and we had saved some money. how could i argue; i was a kid with a tiny allowence.
since my mid-teens, i began to cut my own hair. to this day i still do...when i have the opportunity too. it's very easy once you've done it about 30-45 times, using skillfully placed newspaper and a series of mirrors placed just so. my dad still gives me disapproving looks on my cuts sometimes, but he understands. we've built up a strong relationship through the silences and the pure necessity of the past activity, and for some reason, that's really powerful.
in fact, at times i have begun cutting his hair on his request. and if you know thai culture, touching the head of someone older than you is usually disrespectful and is done only at appropriate times. to allow me to cut his hair breaks my heart in all the right ways. and i find myself really good at it too. one of those cycle-life-thingies coming back around.
which brings me to the main point of this nostalgic journey: i hate the barber.
although hate is a very harsh and powerful word, i use it here to describe the barber; not personally, just the act of. i hate the setting. i don't know the people. i don't think they care for my very detailed instructions, and i know they're gonna hate my crappy tips. i've gone to an 'official barber' about 7 times in my life now, and i have hated each and every experience. since i find myself now in thailand, and have no clippers or a place to plug in said clippers, or a spot to cut my own hair with respect to the place where i'm living, i have had to give in a little bit.
but it doesn't mean i like it any more now that it's a lot cheaper, and includes a free neck massage and a shave with a straight razor. meaning, those extra perks just sorta kick ass, but it's still sort of a spectacle. i mean, what if dude masses up the do? how can you tell him off before he's about to give you a shave? it's just not right, and i rarely enjoy the time i spend sitting in a chair (albeit confy as all hell) waiting for some grumpy barber to wreak havoc on my headspace. it's just sort of an uncofortable position is all.
so, down with the barber for me. nothing can replace years and years of the best hair-cutter i know, or the DIY-ness of cutting my own moppy mop, and i do believe that nothing ever will. my dad can no longer kick your dad's ass, but i bet he could cut your dad's hair really swell, um, that is if you can fit in the chair.
---
when i was a little kid and up until i was about 13/14, my dad cut my hair. there were no 'if's' 'and's' or 'but's' about it. if he was ready to give my a cut, i was invited to sit down in the "haircut chair." we would break out the chair and set it up in the backyard amidst the fruit trees.
now this chair you see, is still in my basement. everyone that has received a haircut from my dad has sat in this chair. it's cool in the way romper room was cool; sorta FOB-ish, got this foldy-top thingie which sometimes doubles for a footstool of 4.5 feet although we never used it as one, and it's got some 70's-ish orange gradient pattern on the seat, so that's rad.
you would sit down in your undies, no matter the weather status, and he would wrap this barber's dark-blue acrylic sheet around your neck, clipping it with an old wooden clothes-pin. then he would look at you. like really look at you, but in the non-eye-contact way where it was like he could see right through you; see every fault, every detail, everything was laid out for him to study like empty seashells at the beach - exposed and vulnerable.
he would then break out this comb and go at it on your head, scraping and weaving the metal-toothed piece over the moppy landscape of your head. then after a minute, he would give a huff and pick up the clippers, flick a switch, and went to work. my dad doesn't talk much in general, so when he gets into a train of thought, it's usually very instructional, sharing, and educational. it makes it so his silences are powerful, and his discussions are all very passionate, although we were mostly quiet throughout the haircutting time .
the cuts were ritualistic and i knew the steps to follow every time. i knew when to shift the weight of my head, when to lift up my chin or tilt at a specific angle. anything to make it easier and faster. he had this technique of placing his ring finger on the back of my ear while pushing it forwards gently, in order to cut a clean line around the valley above the ear; the vibrations reverberating throughout, tickling those three inner ear-bones something fierce.
and even though i had no clue of this man's ability to cut hair, his training, his background in such activities, i never once doubted him. he was steady-handed and assured in his talent. everytime i was a bother, or cold due to freezing bay area winter weather (which is cold when you're wearing tighty-whities and 7), he would start to tell me about something just to keep me interested at staring ahead at the knotholes in the decrepit fence lining our backyard.
in fact, i was really good at remaining quiet, which may seem like a passive quality, but it gave me time to really focus my thoughts on what i was going to do after the time was over. it seemed in those moments of space, while trying to not be accidentally nicked, that i would let my imagination wander on and on. i had a lot of time to study the shape of my feet for example. besides the usual boredom of such an activity, it was a usually a very freeing experience.
we would connect in a very real way, through this activity; the only noise was nature surrounding us, the scissors snipping at times, and the low monotonous buzzing of the clippers. there was something deeply fulfilling about the whole thing, although i never really liked any of the expert cuts he gave me.
they were the sort of cuts that my mom liked, and that was enough for him to stop. my mom would come down the stairs with something cool to drink when it was hot, and something hot to drink when it was cooler; the fallen autumn leaves the perfect excuse to come outside and snoop.
she would occasionally come down just to check the progress, or yell through the window of our kitchen. my dad would always say, "don't worry, you're next." and she was. he cut everyone's hair that came through the house. my brother, some cousins, anyone that wanted a cut. i wouldn't call him a superhero or anything descriptive like that, but i was impressed.
after the cut was done, he had a "closing down the shop" ritual as well. everything had a step and a place. he would first take a final look at me; walking all around and grunting lowly at certain passes. then he would give me the a-okay. out of the barber-toolbox, he would fish out this huge brush.
i always believed it to be the sort of brush that oversized pirates would scrub decks with, or stable workers would clean off shaggy racehorses with. it was thick-bristled and hurt like hell when he took that sucker to my neck. i've had cuts in seawater that have hurt less. i also believe this is why the skin on the back of my neck is still so sensitive.
he would then remove the sheet and shake it out while i put the chair away, and came back to sweep up the shorn hair clippings. i always took a shower afterwards, which always gave me a great opportunity to see the job he did. my reaction was always the same though; a good clean feeling with the hand, and a slight disappointment with the shape. it was okay though. every time he saw my displeasure, he would remind me that it was free, and we had saved some money. how could i argue; i was a kid with a tiny allowence.
since my mid-teens, i began to cut my own hair. to this day i still do...when i have the opportunity too. it's very easy once you've done it about 30-45 times, using skillfully placed newspaper and a series of mirrors placed just so. my dad still gives me disapproving looks on my cuts sometimes, but he understands. we've built up a strong relationship through the silences and the pure necessity of the past activity, and for some reason, that's really powerful.
in fact, at times i have begun cutting his hair on his request. and if you know thai culture, touching the head of someone older than you is usually disrespectful and is done only at appropriate times. to allow me to cut his hair breaks my heart in all the right ways. and i find myself really good at it too. one of those cycle-life-thingies coming back around.
which brings me to the main point of this nostalgic journey: i hate the barber.
although hate is a very harsh and powerful word, i use it here to describe the barber; not personally, just the act of. i hate the setting. i don't know the people. i don't think they care for my very detailed instructions, and i know they're gonna hate my crappy tips. i've gone to an 'official barber' about 7 times in my life now, and i have hated each and every experience. since i find myself now in thailand, and have no clippers or a place to plug in said clippers, or a spot to cut my own hair with respect to the place where i'm living, i have had to give in a little bit.
but it doesn't mean i like it any more now that it's a lot cheaper, and includes a free neck massage and a shave with a straight razor. meaning, those extra perks just sorta kick ass, but it's still sort of a spectacle. i mean, what if dude masses up the do? how can you tell him off before he's about to give you a shave? it's just not right, and i rarely enjoy the time i spend sitting in a chair (albeit confy as all hell) waiting for some grumpy barber to wreak havoc on my headspace. it's just sort of an uncofortable position is all.
so, down with the barber for me. nothing can replace years and years of the best hair-cutter i know, or the DIY-ness of cutting my own moppy mop, and i do believe that nothing ever will. my dad can no longer kick your dad's ass, but i bet he could cut your dad's hair really swell, um, that is if you can fit in the chair.
---
Monday, November 15, 2004
" siamese sunset "
---
outside in the looming humidity, the body of the encroaching dusk lays on her side.
she brings with her languid arrival, a drunken blackness which envelops the land.
the sun deeply sinks away and below the horizon;
retreating lazily as bright solar flares extinguish in the leave of the celestial body.
in the near distance, the crawling traffic hits it's daily mark, not allowing anyone to be where they need to be, or go where they would like to go.
people search the airwaves for good "sitting music," the static white noise almost as good.
homeless alley-dags are fighting each other with a savage ferocity matched only by wild animals;
the world they were born into is not one of their own design or liking.
i begin to find myself slowly becoming accustomed to this particular frequency of nightly events.
my hands stretch out, and then altogether relax, as i head inside in search of something else.
---
outside in the looming humidity, the body of the encroaching dusk lays on her side.
she brings with her languid arrival, a drunken blackness which envelops the land.
the sun deeply sinks away and below the horizon;
retreating lazily as bright solar flares extinguish in the leave of the celestial body.
in the near distance, the crawling traffic hits it's daily mark, not allowing anyone to be where they need to be, or go where they would like to go.
people search the airwaves for good "sitting music," the static white noise almost as good.
homeless alley-dags are fighting each other with a savage ferocity matched only by wild animals;
the world they were born into is not one of their own design or liking.
i begin to find myself slowly becoming accustomed to this particular frequency of nightly events.
my hands stretch out, and then altogether relax, as i head inside in search of something else.
---
" hey, yeah, excuse me? : a rant "
---
pardon me for being a little crass or elitist in the moment, but hey, american middle-class couple in the thai movie theatre sitting behind me yesterday? yeah you two. yesterday i was chock full o' blisses, but on closer inspection, maybe i wasn't? thus, this is a rant to you and others like you:
dear sir,
can you and madam do me a huge favor and just shut the fuck up?! please, for the hole-punctured hands of jesus! is it enough that your breathing and popcorn-munching fills the tiny art-house theatre with your heavy non-butter-butter escaping wheezy air, i have to sit and listen to your cockamamie commentary?
is it just that you have to laugh at the fact that this is a japanese film (did you not realize that when you paid for your ticket?)and you can't understand a word that's being said? that's okay there guy; these days, if you look carefully enough, there are words displayed along with the dialogue at the bottom of the screen. yeah, it's true. those are called subtitles. get on the muthaf-ing bandwagon and read em. don't be dicks aight?
every other non-english country has to cater to your viewing pleasure for all-time due to the strength and influence of american cinema, the least you can do is attempt at reading them. you should be so lucky that there are kind enough people willing to translate the story and words to ease your understanding of what is going on; you don't need to shit on them too you rank bastards.
and while you're at it, don't criticize the sounds in the movie for being too loud. it's called a soundtrack. sometimes those have a reason for being placed where they are audio-wise. by exclaimingly asking "why is that phone so loud?" out loud for all to hear like you had cowpie in your ear-holes, you look like rude assbuckets. no yeah, you do. sorry.
also, the great thing about movies, or even stories in general, is if you're patient enough, the story will reveal itself to you! yeah, you can smile now. the way these things work, no matter the timeline within the actual film, is that the movie is run through a projector ranging from 3-5 reels of film attached with a soundtrack. it's almost slightly amazing, if you think about it for a second. can you smell the concept?
this way, you and your smelly boyfriend don't have to ask each other in non-hushed voices which come out like shrill whispers:
1. what's that thing? the japanese are weird. (the characters are eating cup o' noodles with chopsticks)
2. what's he saying? (something in japanese; ie-read the subtitles twit)
3. who's that? (hey, dum dums, he says his name so many times. look at # 2)
4. what's he doing/going to do? (if you wait, you'll see)
5. why is she leaving? (have you two shits not been watching the fucking movie at all!!?)
6. i can't read and watch at the same time. (self-explanatory)
7. oh my god did that just happen? (see #5)
8. why are they wearing uniforms? (um, not everyone lives in america. it's true. sorry)
and on and on and on and on.
SHUT UP! just shut the fuck down. do it.
here's a fine tip: be patient. i mean holy-concept-of-watching-movies-in-public batman!
so please be good american tourists and understand this is not there,
the american-born-thai kid in the fourth row.
---
and the worst thing is, this is how most middle-americans that i don't know, in this age bracket, and social distinction love to watch movies. i outta just get some magical spray and glue their faces to each other, so they can talk and bullshit endlessly into each other until they explode with inane comments, impatience, and unrivaled stupidity. i outta just pee in their mouths. that way they'd have something valid to say or ask:
1. sir, why did you pee in my mouth?
2. do you think that action was entirely appropriate?
3. could you do that again, i'm an asshole and so is my girlfriend.
sure i might be a movie-watching snob at times, but i came to view a movie, not listen to people pretending they're in the comfort of their houses, ranting on and on like A.D.D. lunatics. these people are guaranteed to have sex and procreate, and i've been the person that's been single for the better half of a decade almost.
c'mon man...
what's up with that now?
and hey, next time, when the King's Anthem is playing before the movie, let's try not to be uncivil visitors by being confused and then decide to just not participate. it's going to be fine, i promise. there's subtitles stating instructions on what to do too. so show some respect to the country you are in currently, pretend you sat on a unicorn, and stand the fuck up. i'm gonna go now. be good.
thank you.
---
pardon me for being a little crass or elitist in the moment, but hey, american middle-class couple in the thai movie theatre sitting behind me yesterday? yeah you two. yesterday i was chock full o' blisses, but on closer inspection, maybe i wasn't? thus, this is a rant to you and others like you:
dear sir,
can you and madam do me a huge favor and just shut the fuck up?! please, for the hole-punctured hands of jesus! is it enough that your breathing and popcorn-munching fills the tiny art-house theatre with your heavy non-butter-butter escaping wheezy air, i have to sit and listen to your cockamamie commentary?
is it just that you have to laugh at the fact that this is a japanese film (did you not realize that when you paid for your ticket?)and you can't understand a word that's being said? that's okay there guy; these days, if you look carefully enough, there are words displayed along with the dialogue at the bottom of the screen. yeah, it's true. those are called subtitles. get on the muthaf-ing bandwagon and read em. don't be dicks aight?
every other non-english country has to cater to your viewing pleasure for all-time due to the strength and influence of american cinema, the least you can do is attempt at reading them. you should be so lucky that there are kind enough people willing to translate the story and words to ease your understanding of what is going on; you don't need to shit on them too you rank bastards.
and while you're at it, don't criticize the sounds in the movie for being too loud. it's called a soundtrack. sometimes those have a reason for being placed where they are audio-wise. by exclaimingly asking "why is that phone so loud?" out loud for all to hear like you had cowpie in your ear-holes, you look like rude assbuckets. no yeah, you do. sorry.
also, the great thing about movies, or even stories in general, is if you're patient enough, the story will reveal itself to you! yeah, you can smile now. the way these things work, no matter the timeline within the actual film, is that the movie is run through a projector ranging from 3-5 reels of film attached with a soundtrack. it's almost slightly amazing, if you think about it for a second. can you smell the concept?
this way, you and your smelly boyfriend don't have to ask each other in non-hushed voices which come out like shrill whispers:
1. what's that thing? the japanese are weird. (the characters are eating cup o' noodles with chopsticks)
2. what's he saying? (something in japanese; ie-read the subtitles twit)
3. who's that? (hey, dum dums, he says his name so many times. look at # 2)
4. what's he doing/going to do? (if you wait, you'll see)
5. why is she leaving? (have you two shits not been watching the fucking movie at all!!?)
6. i can't read and watch at the same time. (self-explanatory)
7. oh my god did that just happen? (see #5)
8. why are they wearing uniforms? (um, not everyone lives in america. it's true. sorry)
and on and on and on and on.
SHUT UP! just shut the fuck down. do it.
here's a fine tip: be patient. i mean holy-concept-of-watching-movies-in-public batman!
so please be good american tourists and understand this is not there,
the american-born-thai kid in the fourth row.
---
and the worst thing is, this is how most middle-americans that i don't know, in this age bracket, and social distinction love to watch movies. i outta just get some magical spray and glue their faces to each other, so they can talk and bullshit endlessly into each other until they explode with inane comments, impatience, and unrivaled stupidity. i outta just pee in their mouths. that way they'd have something valid to say or ask:
1. sir, why did you pee in my mouth?
2. do you think that action was entirely appropriate?
3. could you do that again, i'm an asshole and so is my girlfriend.
sure i might be a movie-watching snob at times, but i came to view a movie, not listen to people pretending they're in the comfort of their houses, ranting on and on like A.D.D. lunatics. these people are guaranteed to have sex and procreate, and i've been the person that's been single for the better half of a decade almost.
c'mon man...
what's up with that now?
and hey, next time, when the King's Anthem is playing before the movie, let's try not to be uncivil visitors by being confused and then decide to just not participate. it's going to be fine, i promise. there's subtitles stating instructions on what to do too. so show some respect to the country you are in currently, pretend you sat on a unicorn, and stand the fuck up. i'm gonna go now. be good.
thank you.
---
Sunday, November 14, 2004
" chock full o' blisses "
---
watching movies is one of the single most satisfying thing i know of. sure you're just sitting in front of a flickering screen, or television set; your eyes stimulated by the light photons hitting nerves which translate into image and substance.
there's something deeply fulfilling about being able to enjoy the time spent doing such an activity. it's one of life's great releases. and when i find that i have the time to enjoy this activity, i always leave sated, no matter how i felt about the particular movie. it's happiness in tiny increments.
(this is of course not including the vast socio-cultural isms that come along with audio-visual presentations. that is another train of thought entirely)
today i finally had a day off. a real day off. not one of those fake ones where you make plans, then become busy with other things. this was one day when i made a plan, and carried it out just so. and then some.
1. farenheit 9/11 - michael moore, documentary, usa
- watching this doc just twists the knife in everything i felt and continue to feel about the fact that bush got re-elected by that part of america. i mean come one people, fo reezy yo! is it that hard to know facts, and then be able to take said facts and come up with a vision of truth? i think not. maybe the problem is that too many americans feel that it is easier to make a stand, a bold statement against truth, to not view such materials. it's not as if michael moore had to search long and hard for these facts either. they were there and almost in plain sight. the story told itself, and he just fashioned them into a piece is all. if we as a people, are to begin to move towards a truer definition of peace, freedom, and democracy, then we will just have to realize that our president is false and wrong, and a liar, and so many other descriptive words that he[bush] does not even realize exist in the known english venacular.
2. nobody knows - kore-eda hirokazu, drama, japan
- you talk about the details, and the perfected moments captured to display these details, and you get to the foot of the body of work that is hirokazu's films. it's the story of a group of small children with a disappearing mother, and multiple absent fathers. this movie is so beautiful and sad in it's plain and voyeuristic beauty, that i had to give in to the film, becoming an avid and engaged viewer. it's in the nail-paint chipped away on a finger, the perfect moment of a young child looking up to a brother, the feet and how they arch and stretch while resting on the ground, the short clocking sound of shoes hitting tiles, the deafening silence of the pain that is maternal rejection and how it needs no words to express that emotion. hirokazu's movie hits you so hard with it's seeming simplicity, that you almost have no clue how to react, other than your emotions have already chosen how to feel; quietly and subconsciously anticipating the next beat.
3. kill-bill 2 - quentin tarantino, drama-camp/pastiche, usa (VCD)
- say what you will about the obvious egotistical attributes of this maker, but he has something to say. he may be blunt and un-p.c. he may hurt your feelings or challenge your brain, and he may confuse and annoy, but you gotta give it to the guy, he knows how to entertain. all i've been hearing from the mass of expectant babies about this film, were "where's the story? why are there two parts? why is it so long? where's the fighting and blood?" blah blah blah. whine, whine, whiney whine-whine. it's a story for god's sake. c'mon people. let the story be what it is. it's not going to change cause you disagree with it. it just is. i personally enjoyed it. yay.
after watching those two flicks at SIAM/LIDO theatre in bangkok, i went shopping for dvdvd's. i got six of them for the amount of one new release in the states, (about 1000 Baht/$25.00)which kicks ass. i heard that you can purchase out-of-region dvd's and still be able to play em on a dvd drive/player through a computer...so i'm sorta counting on that.
the dvd's in no order but its own:
a. dirty pretty things - stephen frears, uk
b. ong-bak - prachaya pingkaew, thailand
c. japanese story - sue brooks, australia
d. last life in the universe - pen-ek ratanaruang, thailand/japan
e. frida - julie taymor, usa/canada/mexico
f. kill bill 2 - quentin tarantino, usa
tonight's homework:
watch a movie with a friend. it can be any movie of any sort, that is if you can agree on the selected title with your friends. cause that's also part of the fun; the "picking out" of a movie. going to a video rental store and trying to agree on an emotion or an actor/actress and the inherent can-we-please-go-jesus-christ-can-you-choose-something-ness of it all. make sure to get some snackies too. gotta have snackies.
---
watching movies is one of the single most satisfying thing i know of. sure you're just sitting in front of a flickering screen, or television set; your eyes stimulated by the light photons hitting nerves which translate into image and substance.
there's something deeply fulfilling about being able to enjoy the time spent doing such an activity. it's one of life's great releases. and when i find that i have the time to enjoy this activity, i always leave sated, no matter how i felt about the particular movie. it's happiness in tiny increments.
(this is of course not including the vast socio-cultural isms that come along with audio-visual presentations. that is another train of thought entirely)
today i finally had a day off. a real day off. not one of those fake ones where you make plans, then become busy with other things. this was one day when i made a plan, and carried it out just so. and then some.
1. farenheit 9/11 - michael moore, documentary, usa
- watching this doc just twists the knife in everything i felt and continue to feel about the fact that bush got re-elected by that part of america. i mean come one people, fo reezy yo! is it that hard to know facts, and then be able to take said facts and come up with a vision of truth? i think not. maybe the problem is that too many americans feel that it is easier to make a stand, a bold statement against truth, to not view such materials. it's not as if michael moore had to search long and hard for these facts either. they were there and almost in plain sight. the story told itself, and he just fashioned them into a piece is all. if we as a people, are to begin to move towards a truer definition of peace, freedom, and democracy, then we will just have to realize that our president is false and wrong, and a liar, and so many other descriptive words that he[bush] does not even realize exist in the known english venacular.
2. nobody knows - kore-eda hirokazu, drama, japan
- you talk about the details, and the perfected moments captured to display these details, and you get to the foot of the body of work that is hirokazu's films. it's the story of a group of small children with a disappearing mother, and multiple absent fathers. this movie is so beautiful and sad in it's plain and voyeuristic beauty, that i had to give in to the film, becoming an avid and engaged viewer. it's in the nail-paint chipped away on a finger, the perfect moment of a young child looking up to a brother, the feet and how they arch and stretch while resting on the ground, the short clocking sound of shoes hitting tiles, the deafening silence of the pain that is maternal rejection and how it needs no words to express that emotion. hirokazu's movie hits you so hard with it's seeming simplicity, that you almost have no clue how to react, other than your emotions have already chosen how to feel; quietly and subconsciously anticipating the next beat.
3. kill-bill 2 - quentin tarantino, drama-camp/pastiche, usa (VCD)
- say what you will about the obvious egotistical attributes of this maker, but he has something to say. he may be blunt and un-p.c. he may hurt your feelings or challenge your brain, and he may confuse and annoy, but you gotta give it to the guy, he knows how to entertain. all i've been hearing from the mass of expectant babies about this film, were "where's the story? why are there two parts? why is it so long? where's the fighting and blood?" blah blah blah. whine, whine, whiney whine-whine. it's a story for god's sake. c'mon people. let the story be what it is. it's not going to change cause you disagree with it. it just is. i personally enjoyed it. yay.
after watching those two flicks at SIAM/LIDO theatre in bangkok, i went shopping for dvdvd's. i got six of them for the amount of one new release in the states, (about 1000 Baht/$25.00)which kicks ass. i heard that you can purchase out-of-region dvd's and still be able to play em on a dvd drive/player through a computer...so i'm sorta counting on that.
the dvd's in no order but its own:
a. dirty pretty things - stephen frears, uk
b. ong-bak - prachaya pingkaew, thailand
c. japanese story - sue brooks, australia
d. last life in the universe - pen-ek ratanaruang, thailand/japan
e. frida - julie taymor, usa/canada/mexico
f. kill bill 2 - quentin tarantino, usa
tonight's homework:
watch a movie with a friend. it can be any movie of any sort, that is if you can agree on the selected title with your friends. cause that's also part of the fun; the "picking out" of a movie. going to a video rental store and trying to agree on an emotion or an actor/actress and the inherent can-we-please-go-jesus-christ-can-you-choose-something-ness of it all. make sure to get some snackies too. gotta have snackies.
---
Saturday, November 13, 2004
" poem for the forgotten "
---
: those that linger at the threshold :
i haven't seen you for days.
and who says
you'll recognize my face,
you'll recognize this place?
these, the paths.
they're hard to retrace.
the remnants of open space.
the gentle ways
memories will displace.
my memories of those fleeting moments;
gone past like dried summer flowers
floating across the wide plain in winter.
- c. bay milin -
- 11.13.04 -
---
: those that linger at the threshold :
i haven't seen you for days.
and who says
you'll recognize my face,
you'll recognize this place?
these, the paths.
they're hard to retrace.
the remnants of open space.
the gentle ways
memories will displace.
my memories of those fleeting moments;
gone past like dried summer flowers
floating across the wide plain in winter.
- c. bay milin -
- 11.13.04 -
---
" the art of storytelling "
---
below click on this pic and print out, to enjoy hours upon hours of multiple fascinating storylines. look at the numbered pictograms, and try and think up of the most likely storyline that comes to mind. i'll put my interpretation below. what magic can you create today? yay!
- i know no fear -
(c) baystar_one...2347 (after homeland security website)
1. that sunday afternoon, it was the kind of hot that one couldn't just think off; one had to find the unearthly strength to walk. the sun was hot, and baby towelettes were very popular.
2. after a few hours of endlessly wandering along the streets, i began to have visions of what a prolonged exposure to this heat could mean. at around 5:12pm, i started to have visions of strange aural emanations; the untapped supernatural energies escaping my innermost core. i felt absolutely radioactive.
3. i thought about the things that i had done earlier in the day. the restlessness. the days of being mad with power at my five-and-dime store on san pablo avenue. nothing seemed to make sense in my life, so i decided to go ahead with becoming a full-fledged radioactively-charged being of light.
4. unlike most comicbook superheroes, being radioactive did not give me uncharted strength or the ability to see through things. instead, i found out my best and most prominent super-ability was that i killed everything i encountered with radioactive poisoning. that made me really depressed.
5. i decided that the only way i could stop the radioactive changes occurring within my body, was to drink some more radioactive super juices along with a couple flasks of mystery liquid concoctions; the reasoning being that if i could drink a better mixture of materials, i could in essence void out the original poisons.
6. of course only a dumbwit thinks like this, and i soon found myself writhing in a spastic episode. the only thing that consuming those vials did, was to further enhance my already near-explosive state. i grew so powerful i killed everything within a ten mile radius, with my very breath.
7. at the peak of my hallucinogenic encounter with the unnatural, i burst into a bright plume of flames. it felt surprisingly refreshing and visceral. i could feel the flames sputtering from every pore on my body, and thoughts of the human torch, johnny storm came to mind. i attempted to exert the ability of flight and exclaimed aloud for all to hear, "flame on!"
8. that's the exact moment when bud the local EMT guy hit me on the head with a frying pan. i promptly passed out and remembered nothing until a few days later. the doctors at the office explained to me that i had sustained only a minor concussion in my near-lunatic excursion from reality. i was suffering from heat exhaustion, and began raiding all of the mini-marts, drinking all of the sodas, then screaming at the women and children. in the end, and when somebody called the police and the hospitals, they explained that i was screaming at the top of my lungs for the fantasticar to come pick me up and take me back to the baxter building; my shirt half torn off, the shoes on my feet non-existent. they also told me that one of the new EMT assistants both stole my wallet and watch while i was unconscious, and he disappeared, never to be seen again.
---
below click on this pic and print out, to enjoy hours upon hours of multiple fascinating storylines. look at the numbered pictograms, and try and think up of the most likely storyline that comes to mind. i'll put my interpretation below. what magic can you create today? yay!
- i know no fear -
(c) baystar_one...2347 (after homeland security website)
1. that sunday afternoon, it was the kind of hot that one couldn't just think off; one had to find the unearthly strength to walk. the sun was hot, and baby towelettes were very popular.
2. after a few hours of endlessly wandering along the streets, i began to have visions of what a prolonged exposure to this heat could mean. at around 5:12pm, i started to have visions of strange aural emanations; the untapped supernatural energies escaping my innermost core. i felt absolutely radioactive.
3. i thought about the things that i had done earlier in the day. the restlessness. the days of being mad with power at my five-and-dime store on san pablo avenue. nothing seemed to make sense in my life, so i decided to go ahead with becoming a full-fledged radioactively-charged being of light.
4. unlike most comicbook superheroes, being radioactive did not give me uncharted strength or the ability to see through things. instead, i found out my best and most prominent super-ability was that i killed everything i encountered with radioactive poisoning. that made me really depressed.
5. i decided that the only way i could stop the radioactive changes occurring within my body, was to drink some more radioactive super juices along with a couple flasks of mystery liquid concoctions; the reasoning being that if i could drink a better mixture of materials, i could in essence void out the original poisons.
6. of course only a dumbwit thinks like this, and i soon found myself writhing in a spastic episode. the only thing that consuming those vials did, was to further enhance my already near-explosive state. i grew so powerful i killed everything within a ten mile radius, with my very breath.
7. at the peak of my hallucinogenic encounter with the unnatural, i burst into a bright plume of flames. it felt surprisingly refreshing and visceral. i could feel the flames sputtering from every pore on my body, and thoughts of the human torch, johnny storm came to mind. i attempted to exert the ability of flight and exclaimed aloud for all to hear, "flame on!"
8. that's the exact moment when bud the local EMT guy hit me on the head with a frying pan. i promptly passed out and remembered nothing until a few days later. the doctors at the office explained to me that i had sustained only a minor concussion in my near-lunatic excursion from reality. i was suffering from heat exhaustion, and began raiding all of the mini-marts, drinking all of the sodas, then screaming at the women and children. in the end, and when somebody called the police and the hospitals, they explained that i was screaming at the top of my lungs for the fantasticar to come pick me up and take me back to the baxter building; my shirt half torn off, the shoes on my feet non-existent. they also told me that one of the new EMT assistants both stole my wallet and watch while i was unconscious, and he disappeared, never to be seen again.
---
Friday, November 12, 2004
" everyone needs heroes "
---
you know that saying, if you have a great idea, someone else has already thought of it before you had? or something like that. yeah, it's happened to me too.
when i came to SF State i had absolutely no clue what i wanted to do, except that i wanted to do something with photo, or drawing, or movie-making. something that utilizes the mind and the hands in conjunction with one another. i wanted to create. to have an output, and to have these things expressed.
around my 3rd year at state, i finally came to a crushing and overwhelming decision that i wanted to be a filmmaker. it incorporates every possible thing i am interested in, into a cohesively layered sense-overloading beautiful medium. now that i'm a year and a half passed graduation, it is my passion, and my drive. big up to my mentor Anita Chang. she helped me see beyond the veil. thank you Anita. endless praise and thanks.
the desire to make films is my every thought, and even though i have yet to find that place that i will call the first big turning point in my filmmaking "career," i know that it is what i will be doing. now i rant and rave and stress and worry, and it's all worth it. it feels like everything is worth it, because this is what i want to do. this is the justified mania of creators. welcome to a taste of mine.
this comes a little late, but one of my current inspirations (that i have had the pleasure of gaining personal advice from, albeit in tiny pieces here and there) is Apichatpong "joe" Weerasethakul, a unique, humble, and excitingly refreshing savior of my hope for thai film. he represents in his ideology and work, all of the passions and desire to create films that i do. it makes me wonder if it is even worth it at times to pursue this career, knowing that he exists. i doubt my abilities, and of course that's silly.
nothing will stop me from trying. not poverty, not other peoples' desire for money, not fatcats, not hollywood pressures on the world to produce shitty sequels that sell to 4 year-olds and grandparents. no.
i will be ravenous in my pursuit of this chosen craft. and at times even, i feel that nothing can stop me. heroes give hope, and dreamers will continue to hope for something more than there is.
down with the shit films which have added to the negative views on thailand in the past. down to the all of the incarnations of the king and i, kickboxer, the beach (although a savvy read, a poo of a movie), and down with brokedown palace. down with the harsh realities of this country, my ancestral homeland. i want to get past the facts, and build a healing for all of my people.
big up to thailand and big up to Khun Apichatpong. thank you for being all that you are, and good luck to you in your everything.
please click on the pic below to connect to an SF Gate article on Apichatpong "joe" Weerasethakul, and the current american tour of his films.
- everyone needs heroes -
Filmmaker, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, photo courtesy of artist
---
you know that saying, if you have a great idea, someone else has already thought of it before you had? or something like that. yeah, it's happened to me too.
when i came to SF State i had absolutely no clue what i wanted to do, except that i wanted to do something with photo, or drawing, or movie-making. something that utilizes the mind and the hands in conjunction with one another. i wanted to create. to have an output, and to have these things expressed.
around my 3rd year at state, i finally came to a crushing and overwhelming decision that i wanted to be a filmmaker. it incorporates every possible thing i am interested in, into a cohesively layered sense-overloading beautiful medium. now that i'm a year and a half passed graduation, it is my passion, and my drive. big up to my mentor Anita Chang. she helped me see beyond the veil. thank you Anita. endless praise and thanks.
the desire to make films is my every thought, and even though i have yet to find that place that i will call the first big turning point in my filmmaking "career," i know that it is what i will be doing. now i rant and rave and stress and worry, and it's all worth it. it feels like everything is worth it, because this is what i want to do. this is the justified mania of creators. welcome to a taste of mine.
this comes a little late, but one of my current inspirations (that i have had the pleasure of gaining personal advice from, albeit in tiny pieces here and there) is Apichatpong "joe" Weerasethakul, a unique, humble, and excitingly refreshing savior of my hope for thai film. he represents in his ideology and work, all of the passions and desire to create films that i do. it makes me wonder if it is even worth it at times to pursue this career, knowing that he exists. i doubt my abilities, and of course that's silly.
nothing will stop me from trying. not poverty, not other peoples' desire for money, not fatcats, not hollywood pressures on the world to produce shitty sequels that sell to 4 year-olds and grandparents. no.
i will be ravenous in my pursuit of this chosen craft. and at times even, i feel that nothing can stop me. heroes give hope, and dreamers will continue to hope for something more than there is.
down with the shit films which have added to the negative views on thailand in the past. down to the all of the incarnations of the king and i, kickboxer, the beach (although a savvy read, a poo of a movie), and down with brokedown palace. down with the harsh realities of this country, my ancestral homeland. i want to get past the facts, and build a healing for all of my people.
big up to thailand and big up to Khun Apichatpong. thank you for being all that you are, and good luck to you in your everything.
please click on the pic below to connect to an SF Gate article on Apichatpong "joe" Weerasethakul, and the current american tour of his films.
- everyone needs heroes -
Filmmaker, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, photo courtesy of artist
---
Thursday, November 11, 2004
" a poised blade at the throat to start your day "
---
you're leaning back in a barbers chair and he's holding this 4-inch blade to your neck at an angle just so. the lather he carefully brushed on your face is soothing and cool, and smells of lemon. in the background, the television is quietly skronk-ing the latest soap opera news/gossip through ancient speakers.
six twirling panning fans gently blow a soft gale on the landscape of your shoulders; the cool breeze momentarily displacing the fear of being cut across the open plain of your throat.
the first stroke comes and goes, and the sound of the metal sliver cutting against the coarse hairs on your face, slowly develops from a scratch to a long drawn-out scrape.
with each following graceful movement, he proceeds to shave the rest of your shadow off. his fingers move slightly with each decision, and plant themselves in a confident passiveness.
getting a shave by a barber with a straight razor in thailand costs a little over a dollar, and the visceral experience is really engaging. i suggest if you have a beard or a 'stache, to fly here just for a shave. unless you're a person with no facial hair.
that being the case i would suggest some of the delightful street food. either activities is just a swell thing to do before you begin your day.
with a blade at your neck and a small bag of treats, you walk into the world and the sun is shining.
---
you're leaning back in a barbers chair and he's holding this 4-inch blade to your neck at an angle just so. the lather he carefully brushed on your face is soothing and cool, and smells of lemon. in the background, the television is quietly skronk-ing the latest soap opera news/gossip through ancient speakers.
six twirling panning fans gently blow a soft gale on the landscape of your shoulders; the cool breeze momentarily displacing the fear of being cut across the open plain of your throat.
the first stroke comes and goes, and the sound of the metal sliver cutting against the coarse hairs on your face, slowly develops from a scratch to a long drawn-out scrape.
with each following graceful movement, he proceeds to shave the rest of your shadow off. his fingers move slightly with each decision, and plant themselves in a confident passiveness.
getting a shave by a barber with a straight razor in thailand costs a little over a dollar, and the visceral experience is really engaging. i suggest if you have a beard or a 'stache, to fly here just for a shave. unless you're a person with no facial hair.
that being the case i would suggest some of the delightful street food. either activities is just a swell thing to do before you begin your day.
with a blade at your neck and a small bag of treats, you walk into the world and the sun is shining.
---
" somewhere, a nerd wets his pants "
---
you gotta hand it off to target people. they really know how to get the entire male age bracket off their asses and into the stores. i mean, will ya lookit these two!!?
- lord vader and miss heidi klum -
(c) baystar_one...2347
you got to be thinking about the sorts of massage oils the genius who got this duo together for some promo, is choosing out right now awaiting their rubdown. it's gotta be peach. or strawberry. ooh or jasmine!
one can only guess how hot that dude dressed up as vader is. i mean, what if he's gotta pee? how the hell does darth vader go to the bathroom? and would you want to be pissing in a urinal somewhere and have this tall dark lord of evil mechanically-breathing next to you? he doesn't have a zipper!! what if he asks you to give him a little shake? ahhhh. you know what'd be scary? if you went into a bathroom, and found that vader was taking a crap in the stall next to you, and then he got mad and used the dark side of the force to crush all of the stall's walls down. so you're sitting there next to this sith jedi mutha and he's like angry still. then he looks at you and asks for some toilet paper; half of his mech-suit all loose around his jedi death-boots, a glowing red lightsaber gripped tightly in the hand that wasn't cut off. what could you do? i would probably pass out with fear or accidentally tip him over or something like that. right? and if you ask him something like what he had for breakfast, he'd probably stab you in the eyes and slice you in half. and rightly so! look at his mask man. this dude doesn't eat spaghetti! he eats that baby gruel mixture that robocop eats! there aren't any straws, it's a tube; a tuuube! in any case, it would be really awkward like that, especially if you were reading some brochures on tomato production in argentina, techniques for installing sprinkler systems below sea-level, or something weird like that. and he has a cape too! where the hell would he put his cape? like on his lap all folded up and tucked away, so that the toilet water doesn't touch it. what the hell would you do in a situation like that??
yeah. i know. absolutely no one is thinking about the answers to that, or even listening to me any more. no one at all.
all over the dweebiverse, people are simultaneously crying and screaming at the tops of their lungs towards their super-computer set-ups; the scent of stale pizza and beer wafting through their dark dens.
so, yay target, and yay brilliant (although completely at a tangent) marketing stategems.
tonight's homework:
watch star wars for me. not the new dvd trilogy with all those weird yet oddly explainable changes. not the widescreen 1997 special-edition silver or gold fullscreen mega VHS set. not even the digital transfer cleaned-up pan n' scan copy that's now under your table leg. no. i'm talking about that original-release old skool VHS scratchy-picture shitty-sounding corroded-from-so-many-watchings-as-a-kid version you got in that pile of nintendo games in your closet or basement. yeah, pull that sucker and pop it in the VCR. call up a pal and have a marathon. sometimes you just gotta show respect people; them old tapes gotta get some love too. also if you hold your breath from the lucasfilm logo to the opening notes of the theme song, you get a mad head rush yo; it also brings you good luck, like a leprechaun!
---
you gotta hand it off to target people. they really know how to get the entire male age bracket off their asses and into the stores. i mean, will ya lookit these two!!?
- lord vader and miss heidi klum -
(c) baystar_one...2347
you got to be thinking about the sorts of massage oils the genius who got this duo together for some promo, is choosing out right now awaiting their rubdown. it's gotta be peach. or strawberry. ooh or jasmine!
one can only guess how hot that dude dressed up as vader is. i mean, what if he's gotta pee? how the hell does darth vader go to the bathroom? and would you want to be pissing in a urinal somewhere and have this tall dark lord of evil mechanically-breathing next to you? he doesn't have a zipper!! what if he asks you to give him a little shake? ahhhh. you know what'd be scary? if you went into a bathroom, and found that vader was taking a crap in the stall next to you, and then he got mad and used the dark side of the force to crush all of the stall's walls down. so you're sitting there next to this sith jedi mutha and he's like angry still. then he looks at you and asks for some toilet paper; half of his mech-suit all loose around his jedi death-boots, a glowing red lightsaber gripped tightly in the hand that wasn't cut off. what could you do? i would probably pass out with fear or accidentally tip him over or something like that. right? and if you ask him something like what he had for breakfast, he'd probably stab you in the eyes and slice you in half. and rightly so! look at his mask man. this dude doesn't eat spaghetti! he eats that baby gruel mixture that robocop eats! there aren't any straws, it's a tube; a tuuube! in any case, it would be really awkward like that, especially if you were reading some brochures on tomato production in argentina, techniques for installing sprinkler systems below sea-level, or something weird like that. and he has a cape too! where the hell would he put his cape? like on his lap all folded up and tucked away, so that the toilet water doesn't touch it. what the hell would you do in a situation like that??
yeah. i know. absolutely no one is thinking about the answers to that, or even listening to me any more. no one at all.
all over the dweebiverse, people are simultaneously crying and screaming at the tops of their lungs towards their super-computer set-ups; the scent of stale pizza and beer wafting through their dark dens.
so, yay target, and yay brilliant (although completely at a tangent) marketing stategems.
tonight's homework:
watch star wars for me. not the new dvd trilogy with all those weird yet oddly explainable changes. not the widescreen 1997 special-edition silver or gold fullscreen mega VHS set. not even the digital transfer cleaned-up pan n' scan copy that's now under your table leg. no. i'm talking about that original-release old skool VHS scratchy-picture shitty-sounding corroded-from-so-many-watchings-as-a-kid version you got in that pile of nintendo games in your closet or basement. yeah, pull that sucker and pop it in the VCR. call up a pal and have a marathon. sometimes you just gotta show respect people; them old tapes gotta get some love too. also if you hold your breath from the lucasfilm logo to the opening notes of the theme song, you get a mad head rush yo; it also brings you good luck, like a leprechaun!
---
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
" well it's too late, but it's about time "
---
yay. two bigwigs out. hopefully it'll help somewhere. i've conveniently translated this BJ-laced letter with lay-speak, so as to make it easier for us "normals" to understand. ie-ashcroft is evil
---
Ashcroft resignation letter to Bush
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Posted: 0055 GMT (0855 HKT)
(AP) -- Text of the resignation letter, dated November 2 and released Tuesday, from Attorney General John Ashcroft to President Bush:
Dear Mr. President:
i love you, you smell like fun and evil
Nothing in my life compares to the high honor of serving America as Attorney General in your administration.
i killed so many people with your administration; i'm proud as all heck
The cause of justice is indeed a serious calling. Americans have been spared the violence and savagery of terrorist attack on our soil since September 11, 2001.
we killed so many people together, that there's almost no one left to kill, but i'm sure you'll find some more terrorists. also, i stole some of the presidential bath soaps that smell like money.
During the last four years our violent crime rate has plunged to a 30-year low. Under your "Project Safe Neighborhoods" the number of gun crimes has fallen to its lowest level in modern history. Drug use among America's young people has fallen and continues to fall significantly.
i have all the guns in my cabin, and i stroke it to your victory speech. a lot.
Corporate integrity has been restored with the work of your Corporate Fraud Task Force. As a result, United States markets have reinforced their position as the trusted allocators of the world's capital resources.
can i have my dirty money back? i need new underwear. i crapped my last pair.
Thank you for your leadership which has made these and many other justice-related achievements possible.
your head is shiny. i like walnuts.
The demands of justice are both rewarding and depleting. I take great personal satisfaction in the record which has been developed. The objective of securing the safety of Americans from crime and terror has been achieved. The rule of law has been strengthened and upheld in the courts.
hey man, thanks for letting me sleep with your wife. you're right, she just lays there and cries. i owe you a fiver.
Yet, I believe that the Department of Justice would be well served by new leadership and fresh inspiration. I believe that my energies and talents should be directed toward other challenging horizons.
the latest thing i secured is a job wiping up jizz off of the local 25 cent porn booth floors/walls/ceilings. and i bought into that cool flowbee vacu-suck haircutter? those are great. need a haircut?
Therefore, I humbly state my desire to resign from the office of United States Attorney General.
hey, dude. dude. remember that time when i worked for you and we took away all those civil rights away from the general public? that was awesome. i'm surly and i intend to be the best conservative right-wing super-religious god-fearing loon in my daily life, as i have been in my professional life. hey, how's about next week you and i go to the cote d'ivoire to get some ice cream? i hear they now come in murder, mayhem, and massacre flavors. delish!
It would be my pleasure to structure the announcement of this resignation and the ensuing transition in conjunction with you so that your administration and the cause of justice are served optimally.
i desire to humbly resign you of your pants in your office. i would pleasure you and call you big daddy while your daughters watch. i will serve you jams and jellies using only my post-administrative tongue.
I have handwritten this letter so its confidentiality can be maintained until the appropriate arrangements mentioned above can be made.
i learned how to write! thanks KKK after-school program!
I am grateful to you for the profound honor of serving under your clear, principled leadership.
oh yeah, i owe you another ten-spot, cause i banged your drunk-ass daughters at that reception party last christmas. yeah, so should i also include that, in my official resignation?
May God continue to bless, guide, and direct you and your family as you lead America forward in freedom.
bless the pants off of me now that i am not working in the office, it's all fair game. also freedom is over-rated. we should start a treehouse apple-gang.
Most Sincerely,
John Ashcroft
ps-dude, we killed so many people. can i come over and watch you and cheney pick each other's liver spots? i'll bring the natty-ice and you two can dress up in women's panties while spanking each other, and i'll have my video camera. ah...good times.
---
yay. two bigwigs out. hopefully it'll help somewhere. i've conveniently translated this BJ-laced letter with lay-speak, so as to make it easier for us "normals" to understand. ie-ashcroft is evil
---
Ashcroft resignation letter to Bush
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Posted: 0055 GMT (0855 HKT)
(AP) -- Text of the resignation letter, dated November 2 and released Tuesday, from Attorney General John Ashcroft to President Bush:
Dear Mr. President:
i love you, you smell like fun and evil
Nothing in my life compares to the high honor of serving America as Attorney General in your administration.
i killed so many people with your administration; i'm proud as all heck
The cause of justice is indeed a serious calling. Americans have been spared the violence and savagery of terrorist attack on our soil since September 11, 2001.
we killed so many people together, that there's almost no one left to kill, but i'm sure you'll find some more terrorists. also, i stole some of the presidential bath soaps that smell like money.
During the last four years our violent crime rate has plunged to a 30-year low. Under your "Project Safe Neighborhoods" the number of gun crimes has fallen to its lowest level in modern history. Drug use among America's young people has fallen and continues to fall significantly.
i have all the guns in my cabin, and i stroke it to your victory speech. a lot.
Corporate integrity has been restored with the work of your Corporate Fraud Task Force. As a result, United States markets have reinforced their position as the trusted allocators of the world's capital resources.
can i have my dirty money back? i need new underwear. i crapped my last pair.
Thank you for your leadership which has made these and many other justice-related achievements possible.
your head is shiny. i like walnuts.
The demands of justice are both rewarding and depleting. I take great personal satisfaction in the record which has been developed. The objective of securing the safety of Americans from crime and terror has been achieved. The rule of law has been strengthened and upheld in the courts.
hey man, thanks for letting me sleep with your wife. you're right, she just lays there and cries. i owe you a fiver.
Yet, I believe that the Department of Justice would be well served by new leadership and fresh inspiration. I believe that my energies and talents should be directed toward other challenging horizons.
the latest thing i secured is a job wiping up jizz off of the local 25 cent porn booth floors/walls/ceilings. and i bought into that cool flowbee vacu-suck haircutter? those are great. need a haircut?
Therefore, I humbly state my desire to resign from the office of United States Attorney General.
hey, dude. dude. remember that time when i worked for you and we took away all those civil rights away from the general public? that was awesome. i'm surly and i intend to be the best conservative right-wing super-religious god-fearing loon in my daily life, as i have been in my professional life. hey, how's about next week you and i go to the cote d'ivoire to get some ice cream? i hear they now come in murder, mayhem, and massacre flavors. delish!
It would be my pleasure to structure the announcement of this resignation and the ensuing transition in conjunction with you so that your administration and the cause of justice are served optimally.
i desire to humbly resign you of your pants in your office. i would pleasure you and call you big daddy while your daughters watch. i will serve you jams and jellies using only my post-administrative tongue.
I have handwritten this letter so its confidentiality can be maintained until the appropriate arrangements mentioned above can be made.
i learned how to write! thanks KKK after-school program!
I am grateful to you for the profound honor of serving under your clear, principled leadership.
oh yeah, i owe you another ten-spot, cause i banged your drunk-ass daughters at that reception party last christmas. yeah, so should i also include that, in my official resignation?
May God continue to bless, guide, and direct you and your family as you lead America forward in freedom.
bless the pants off of me now that i am not working in the office, it's all fair game. also freedom is over-rated. we should start a treehouse apple-gang.
Most Sincerely,
John Ashcroft
ps-dude, we killed so many people. can i come over and watch you and cheney pick each other's liver spots? i'll bring the natty-ice and you two can dress up in women's panties while spanking each other, and i'll have my video camera. ah...good times.
---
" ancient times in modern day "
---
the first europeans to encounter thailand, then called Siam, regarded the people as animals of brute savagery, and rightly so, if you count that they came from a completely different culture. i mean, you should've seen them, their crazy get-ups; flowy paper mache pants complete with spears and influenza. it's not enough to say that people are savage because they do not share specific cultural qualities. and although the initial meeting was interesting and strange for both peoples, the lasting influence of portugese visitors ended up being some of the most kick ass desserts in thailand. it's true.
but some people are just plain savage.
they do things out of the most deep-rooted animalistic places within them, and people still would love to believe the glowing sheen of modern civilization is moving ahead at a rapid and over-encompassing rate.
moreover, it is the act itself that is savage. these acts of complete and utter disregard for human life is really shocking, or is it?
http://www.nationmultimedia.com/2004/11/10/headlines/index.php?news=headlines_15369130.html
and it doesn't have to necessarily be a physical act, it could be as simple as some racist and their special "i'm-not-a-racist-i-just-don't-like-black-people-living-near-me-or-any-other-race-of-people-either-i-mean-can't-they-learn-english?" buddy, that doesn't even know or can possibly fathom how they're being racist. it's funny in a really really sad depressing sort of way.
http://www.craigslist.org/sfc/rnr/48460398.html
then
http://www.craigslist.org/sfc/rnr/48463226.html
[insert blank stare here]
---
the first europeans to encounter thailand, then called Siam, regarded the people as animals of brute savagery, and rightly so, if you count that they came from a completely different culture. i mean, you should've seen them, their crazy get-ups; flowy paper mache pants complete with spears and influenza. it's not enough to say that people are savage because they do not share specific cultural qualities. and although the initial meeting was interesting and strange for both peoples, the lasting influence of portugese visitors ended up being some of the most kick ass desserts in thailand. it's true.
but some people are just plain savage.
they do things out of the most deep-rooted animalistic places within them, and people still would love to believe the glowing sheen of modern civilization is moving ahead at a rapid and over-encompassing rate.
moreover, it is the act itself that is savage. these acts of complete and utter disregard for human life is really shocking, or is it?
http://www.nationmultimedia.com/2004/11/10/headlines/index.php?news=headlines_15369130.html
and it doesn't have to necessarily be a physical act, it could be as simple as some racist and their special "i'm-not-a-racist-i-just-don't-like-black-people-living-near-me-or-any-other-race-of-people-either-i-mean-can't-they-learn-english?" buddy, that doesn't even know or can possibly fathom how they're being racist. it's funny in a really really sad depressing sort of way.
http://www.craigslist.org/sfc/rnr/48460398.html
then
http://www.craigslist.org/sfc/rnr/48463226.html
[insert blank stare here]
---
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
" that fresh pee smell "
---
you know what?
those small floral and scented thingie-thingies people put in their bathrooms, whether the potpourri, the squirtie sprayer doohickey, or the lemony-limeny electric plug-in, don't really do a god damn thing i tell you.
all you end up having, is a bathroom that smells like aromatically-orangified urine, and that ain't none to right. it's like a breath-holding session every time.
and what's up with women's bathrooms again? i mean, they're just so pretty-like. from the photos on the wall, or the superb choice wall designery, to even the furniture. jeebus those couches are comfy and spacious. i dare say, swell even. well they are you know!
i want to sit in one of those powder room-type places and have a cup of rooibus africana with some crumpets and noshery before entering the lavatory and doing my business. is that so much to ask?
i think not, sir.
i think not.
---
you know what?
those small floral and scented thingie-thingies people put in their bathrooms, whether the potpourri, the squirtie sprayer doohickey, or the lemony-limeny electric plug-in, don't really do a god damn thing i tell you.
all you end up having, is a bathroom that smells like aromatically-orangified urine, and that ain't none to right. it's like a breath-holding session every time.
and what's up with women's bathrooms again? i mean, they're just so pretty-like. from the photos on the wall, or the superb choice wall designery, to even the furniture. jeebus those couches are comfy and spacious. i dare say, swell even. well they are you know!
i want to sit in one of those powder room-type places and have a cup of rooibus africana with some crumpets and noshery before entering the lavatory and doing my business. is that so much to ask?
i think not, sir.
i think not.
---
Monday, November 08, 2004
" she runs, but not too far "
---
i find myself thinking all-today about some words i over heard while running the run yesterday. there was a point in the race where i rounded around and overlapped two of the maids (they all ran too). i was exhausted, and they looked like they were at least enjoying themselves, despite also having to run. there was Noi an older maid and the wife of one of the drivers, and Thunda the youngest one.
i decided to keep them company, because it would allow me to take some photos of the race at the same time. Thunda couldn't contain her energy; it was as if being in the park amidst all these free people, gave her an inspiration to participate. she would keep with my set pace for a few minutes, then race ahead. trail back, then zoom forward with a burst of speed. it was nice to see her uninhibited. after about the fifth time, Noi told her "hey, don't run too far ahead; the police will get you before you finish the run."
it was told a little bit in joke, and a little bit in reality, although i don't really know the amount of truth behind the statement. Thunda sank back and stuck with us the rest of the way in. when we were nearing to the end, i egged her on, and we raced to the finish line; she smiled and beamed as we crossed into a group of other participants. while catching out breath and waiting for the others in our group, she looked around and watched the other runners come in.
i couldn't help thinking that she was trying to build a memory of this day. you could see her mind filing the freedom of the run in her head, for the times when she feels moreover boxed in; the hesitation to run on and away, fresh on her thoughts. after some more people got in, we walked over to claim the certificates of completing the race, breakfast boxes, and water bottles.
it's really difficult to put your feet in someone else's shoes sometimes. you think you know what you really are all about, and at times very confident you know how you might feel as you approach any given situation. i however, was not so sure how to feel then and still now, i almost wanted her to keep going until she disappeared among the crowd. seeing these inequalities on an almost daily basis reminds me of the appreciation of my life.
without an almost regulatory deconstruction of the past, how will we ever make it to the future?
---
i find myself thinking all-today about some words i over heard while running the run yesterday. there was a point in the race where i rounded around and overlapped two of the maids (they all ran too). i was exhausted, and they looked like they were at least enjoying themselves, despite also having to run. there was Noi an older maid and the wife of one of the drivers, and Thunda the youngest one.
i decided to keep them company, because it would allow me to take some photos of the race at the same time. Thunda couldn't contain her energy; it was as if being in the park amidst all these free people, gave her an inspiration to participate. she would keep with my set pace for a few minutes, then race ahead. trail back, then zoom forward with a burst of speed. it was nice to see her uninhibited. after about the fifth time, Noi told her "hey, don't run too far ahead; the police will get you before you finish the run."
it was told a little bit in joke, and a little bit in reality, although i don't really know the amount of truth behind the statement. Thunda sank back and stuck with us the rest of the way in. when we were nearing to the end, i egged her on, and we raced to the finish line; she smiled and beamed as we crossed into a group of other participants. while catching out breath and waiting for the others in our group, she looked around and watched the other runners come in.
i couldn't help thinking that she was trying to build a memory of this day. you could see her mind filing the freedom of the run in her head, for the times when she feels moreover boxed in; the hesitation to run on and away, fresh on her thoughts. after some more people got in, we walked over to claim the certificates of completing the race, breakfast boxes, and water bottles.
it's really difficult to put your feet in someone else's shoes sometimes. you think you know what you really are all about, and at times very confident you know how you might feel as you approach any given situation. i however, was not so sure how to feel then and still now, i almost wanted her to keep going until she disappeared among the crowd. seeing these inequalities on an almost daily basis reminds me of the appreciation of my life.
without an almost regulatory deconstruction of the past, how will we ever make it to the future?
---
Sunday, November 07, 2004
" running for a reason "
---
- terry fox foundation -
so, this morning, i woke up at 5:15am.
we had to be there around 7am, and Lumphini Park is hard to get to on sundays, due to the heavy bangkok traffic. as we pulled up to the park, there were all sorts of people exercising and stretching, jogging and playing badmiton, talking and walking with their kids.
you begin to forget that even in one of the most polluted city on the asian continent, bangkokians still have a desire for fitness and overall healthy well-being. in that same spirit, me and my fellow co-workers arrived at the Terry Fox Annual Run.
the purpose of this annual run, is to raise money and awareness for cancer research, in the name of a 22 year-old who died of cancer, named terry fox. the short run was 5 km and the long run was 10km. you can guess that i chose the 5km, because not only did i have to actively participate, i also had to take photos, and shoot some DV for the show.
and you wanna know something? it's really hard to run normal when you have to keep a parallel focus on both breathing tempo and possible photo ops. between the huffing and cramping, i'm sure i got some usable pictures and fat cells burned off at the same time. which is okay if you give a hoot about such things.
basically, aside from the fact that thailand is hot (like hella hot; hotter than an oven inside the devils sweatroom, um if he had some weird desire to bake some pastries while he is in the sauna...which he most likely wouldn't, but i do like blueberry muffins. yeah, i don't know where this is going either), it feels really good to be running for a worthy cause.
you can look past the present fact that your crappy out-of-shape-always-and-ever state of your body starts to fail you after the first kilometer and a half, and give at least all you have, in serving a larger purpose. i almost passed out twice and saw really cool colors and black spots for about 2 minutes there.
'all for a good cause all for a good causeall for a good causeall for a good causeall for a good cause,' was my mantra.
when i got in, my legs burned in that special lacking-lactic-acid sort of way; the sweat cascading and waterfalling down my back actually cooled me down, and we got to nosh on some fairly delectable breakfast boxes, provided by the four seasons hotel (the main sponser).
you start to realize that there are things which are larger than you. there are movements and causes that go beyond all of the problems you believe you have. once in a while, it's nice to recognize these things, and do something for the benefit of mankind.
tonight's homework:
spend a little time thinking how you can do something for someone else. it could be sponsoring them in an aid's fundraiser run. it could be taking care of them when they're sick. hell, it could be just helping them out of a sticky situation. buddhists believe in the act of making merit; the act of doing something for the goodness of the act, and in return receive nothing. try to lend some of your precious ranting time, for someone that might not have the ability to be helped. in this way, we will all benefit and move forward as a species.
- terry fox -
(c) baystar_one...2347
About Terry Fox
Terry Fox was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and raised in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia, a community near Vancouver on Canada's west coast. An active teenager involved in many sports, Terry was only 18 years old when he was diagnosed with osteogenic sarcoma (bone cancer) and forced to have his right leg amputated 15 centimetres (six inches) above the knee in 1977.
While in hospital, Terry was so overcome by the suffering of other cancer patients, many of them young children, that he decided to run across Canada to raise money for cancer research.
He would call his journey the Marathon of Hope.
After 18 months and running over 5,000 kilometres (3,107 miles) to prepare, Terry started his run in St. John's, Newfoundland on April 12, 1980 with little fanfare. Although it was difficult to garner attention in the beginning, enthusiasm soon grew, and the money collected along his route began to mount.
He ran 42 kilometres (26 miles) a day through Canada's Atlantic provinces, Quebec and Ontario.
It was a journey that Canadians never forgot.
However, on September 1st, after 143 days and 5,373 kilometres (3,339 miles), Terry was forced to stop running outside of Thunder Bay, Ontario because cancer had appeared in his lungs. An entire nation was stunned and saddened.
Terry passed away on June 28, 1981 at age 22.
The heroic Canadian was gone, but his legacy was just beginning.
To date, more than $360 million has been raised worldwide for cancer research in Terry's name through the annual Terry Fox Run, held across Canada and around the world.
---
- terry fox foundation -
so, this morning, i woke up at 5:15am.
we had to be there around 7am, and Lumphini Park is hard to get to on sundays, due to the heavy bangkok traffic. as we pulled up to the park, there were all sorts of people exercising and stretching, jogging and playing badmiton, talking and walking with their kids.
you begin to forget that even in one of the most polluted city on the asian continent, bangkokians still have a desire for fitness and overall healthy well-being. in that same spirit, me and my fellow co-workers arrived at the Terry Fox Annual Run.
the purpose of this annual run, is to raise money and awareness for cancer research, in the name of a 22 year-old who died of cancer, named terry fox. the short run was 5 km and the long run was 10km. you can guess that i chose the 5km, because not only did i have to actively participate, i also had to take photos, and shoot some DV for the show.
and you wanna know something? it's really hard to run normal when you have to keep a parallel focus on both breathing tempo and possible photo ops. between the huffing and cramping, i'm sure i got some usable pictures and fat cells burned off at the same time. which is okay if you give a hoot about such things.
basically, aside from the fact that thailand is hot (like hella hot; hotter than an oven inside the devils sweatroom, um if he had some weird desire to bake some pastries while he is in the sauna...which he most likely wouldn't, but i do like blueberry muffins. yeah, i don't know where this is going either), it feels really good to be running for a worthy cause.
you can look past the present fact that your crappy out-of-shape-always-and-ever state of your body starts to fail you after the first kilometer and a half, and give at least all you have, in serving a larger purpose. i almost passed out twice and saw really cool colors and black spots for about 2 minutes there.
'all for a good cause all for a good causeall for a good causeall for a good causeall for a good cause,' was my mantra.
when i got in, my legs burned in that special lacking-lactic-acid sort of way; the sweat cascading and waterfalling down my back actually cooled me down, and we got to nosh on some fairly delectable breakfast boxes, provided by the four seasons hotel (the main sponser).
you start to realize that there are things which are larger than you. there are movements and causes that go beyond all of the problems you believe you have. once in a while, it's nice to recognize these things, and do something for the benefit of mankind.
tonight's homework:
spend a little time thinking how you can do something for someone else. it could be sponsoring them in an aid's fundraiser run. it could be taking care of them when they're sick. hell, it could be just helping them out of a sticky situation. buddhists believe in the act of making merit; the act of doing something for the goodness of the act, and in return receive nothing. try to lend some of your precious ranting time, for someone that might not have the ability to be helped. in this way, we will all benefit and move forward as a species.
- terry fox -
(c) baystar_one...2347
About Terry Fox
Terry Fox was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and raised in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia, a community near Vancouver on Canada's west coast. An active teenager involved in many sports, Terry was only 18 years old when he was diagnosed with osteogenic sarcoma (bone cancer) and forced to have his right leg amputated 15 centimetres (six inches) above the knee in 1977.
While in hospital, Terry was so overcome by the suffering of other cancer patients, many of them young children, that he decided to run across Canada to raise money for cancer research.
He would call his journey the Marathon of Hope.
After 18 months and running over 5,000 kilometres (3,107 miles) to prepare, Terry started his run in St. John's, Newfoundland on April 12, 1980 with little fanfare. Although it was difficult to garner attention in the beginning, enthusiasm soon grew, and the money collected along his route began to mount.
He ran 42 kilometres (26 miles) a day through Canada's Atlantic provinces, Quebec and Ontario.
It was a journey that Canadians never forgot.
However, on September 1st, after 143 days and 5,373 kilometres (3,339 miles), Terry was forced to stop running outside of Thunder Bay, Ontario because cancer had appeared in his lungs. An entire nation was stunned and saddened.
Terry passed away on June 28, 1981 at age 22.
The heroic Canadian was gone, but his legacy was just beginning.
To date, more than $360 million has been raised worldwide for cancer research in Terry's name through the annual Terry Fox Run, held across Canada and around the world.
---
Saturday, November 06, 2004
" floating in limbo "
---
the sleep comes at a languid pace,
the constellation of sleep-ing not quite skybound.
you feel your arms reaching for distant images,
outside, there are barking dogs running free and far away;
the silence on their leave is deafening.
soon colorful dream-of-night sets on it's course,
navigating and cruising upon the waters of nocturnal inebriation.
you bend your arms down and dip your curled fingers in the cool waters;
the horizons uncharted and your entire being
breaking upon the wind.
---
the sleep comes at a languid pace,
the constellation of sleep-ing not quite skybound.
you feel your arms reaching for distant images,
outside, there are barking dogs running free and far away;
the silence on their leave is deafening.
soon colorful dream-of-night sets on it's course,
navigating and cruising upon the waters of nocturnal inebriation.
you bend your arms down and dip your curled fingers in the cool waters;
the horizons uncharted and your entire being
breaking upon the wind.
---
Friday, November 05, 2004
" the normalcy of servants: part II "
---
these are my boss's maids. having maids is a normal practice in thailand, for anyone that can afford them. they're human commodities; bought in the form of goodwill from their parents, and used to better the source of income for their families. usually however, their lives are a mish-mash of hardships and not really an adequate replacement for a real job or a real life.
you don't see them that often, and to most people around them, they do not exist; they are invisible hands and bodies. they get scolded and reprimanded often enough to make your heart break multiple times a day. they are wholly uneducated and simple girls, displaying a sort of shy playfulness in their time off, that contrasts to the intense reality of their employ.
they work, and work hard. their lives belong to someone else, and they are on-the-clock 24 hours a day. these young women have almost nothing that is their own, save a few personal items; clothes, hair clips, small trinkets, etc. and when you try to be of some source of comfort, it's almost useless, because of the fact that you cannot change their situation; it is the grandest form of feeling helpless. i do what i feel i can, but it never feels like enough.
all of them are far from from their parents and/or home countries: burma, laos, and the far upper northeast of thailand. they are alone but together, creating a makeshift family with each other.
and they smile. and laugh out loud too at times. when they see me and play games with words and tease me, i crumble in to a thousand pieces and i have to suppress the urge to breakdown right in front of them.
you start to grow feelings of injustice, and loss, and guilt for being so fortunate. these girls are making the best of what they have, and it proves the strength of the human condition to constantly adapt and be hopeful. it's a very powerful and moving thing to see these girls just living/existing in the life they find themselves in; the look behind their eyes and the way they've learned to be silent, is just potent and overwhelming beyond comparison.
in this short series(click on pic below), which i took in about an hour between their workday, i tried to photograph them while they had a short break to watch some television. the point being, i tell myself, is to give them a little bit of their dignity and pride back; to show them that they are human beings and valid, and that not everyone will treat them as if they are only maids and nothing else.
- faces without voices -
(c) baystar_one...2347
---
these are my boss's maids. having maids is a normal practice in thailand, for anyone that can afford them. they're human commodities; bought in the form of goodwill from their parents, and used to better the source of income for their families. usually however, their lives are a mish-mash of hardships and not really an adequate replacement for a real job or a real life.
you don't see them that often, and to most people around them, they do not exist; they are invisible hands and bodies. they get scolded and reprimanded often enough to make your heart break multiple times a day. they are wholly uneducated and simple girls, displaying a sort of shy playfulness in their time off, that contrasts to the intense reality of their employ.
they work, and work hard. their lives belong to someone else, and they are on-the-clock 24 hours a day. these young women have almost nothing that is their own, save a few personal items; clothes, hair clips, small trinkets, etc. and when you try to be of some source of comfort, it's almost useless, because of the fact that you cannot change their situation; it is the grandest form of feeling helpless. i do what i feel i can, but it never feels like enough.
all of them are far from from their parents and/or home countries: burma, laos, and the far upper northeast of thailand. they are alone but together, creating a makeshift family with each other.
and they smile. and laugh out loud too at times. when they see me and play games with words and tease me, i crumble in to a thousand pieces and i have to suppress the urge to breakdown right in front of them.
you start to grow feelings of injustice, and loss, and guilt for being so fortunate. these girls are making the best of what they have, and it proves the strength of the human condition to constantly adapt and be hopeful. it's a very powerful and moving thing to see these girls just living/existing in the life they find themselves in; the look behind their eyes and the way they've learned to be silent, is just potent and overwhelming beyond comparison.
in this short series(click on pic below), which i took in about an hour between their workday, i tried to photograph them while they had a short break to watch some television. the point being, i tell myself, is to give them a little bit of their dignity and pride back; to show them that they are human beings and valid, and that not everyone will treat them as if they are only maids and nothing else.
- faces without voices -
(c) baystar_one...2347
---
Thursday, November 04, 2004
" nope, no sir, and no thank you "
---
i'm not going to go into some crazed fanatical rant session for weeks on end describing how upset and disappointed i am over the fact that in all likeliness, this election makes it all okay for a the cloven society that we call america to get all riled up and ready to duke it out civil war style [well except with SUV's, H2's, PDA's, and miniature laptops (how many sizes do these things need to come in, fo reezy?!)] and tear each other apart with hate and degrading words and internalized violent acts, the blood of the nation boiling and spilling all over the ground and through the grand canyon, i'm talking about what the hell are people voting out of fear, leaning towards the next "jeebus," choosing to base the next four years on a loose flimsy definition of moral liberties and collective social interest, like, what the hell is up with 11 out of 11 states banning gay marriage as a law(?) can people be so blind/cold/heartless/ununderstanding? you end up with ornery people getting all bent up (and rightly so) about the state of the union and the nature of our divided nation to the degree where they go on drinking binges and yell at people on the street while simultaneously peeing themselves, i mean you get to a point where you have to really deconstruct your hopes and actions and desires until you make yourself transparent to certain truths about the Self, cause what revolution are you really for and which movement are you really against if there are so many crazy people rambling and wandering their way through america searching for truth and the path of righteousness, which mostly means that if you had to weigh your personal beliefs against your neighbor, you might end up with some slightly skewed version of your own life and it keeps changing and adapting as you move from house to house throughout the nation, and so on and so forth, which doesn't mean that i don't also have a viewpoint or passions or disgusts on a socio-cultural/economic/civil rights ideologies, it's just that there's something about something called corruption and the throwing around of large sums of monies that could be spent on something completely more in need of such funds that seems at present so insurmountable, the liberal-leaning Sisyphus, which saddens me because these deluded masses feel that bush is actually going to work for the best interest of america, but instead will be building upon a legacy of hate, deception, and greed in the most modern example of a misuse of power in a country that should know better based on the way most analysts depict our position power-balance-wise, the nations' children altogether at once begin to cry, somewhere a tiny man-devil is dancing a celebratory jig sipping triple-X hoocajoo tonic and whistling a tune, no.
i'm sure that there are more people with more time to spend on the computer, and better word combinations than i have at my disposal. so i leave it to them and their emotionally-backed descriptive pseudo-intellectual fodder.
i'll be out actively deconstructing something else while eating my lunch with no regrets.
---
i'm not going to go into some crazed fanatical rant session for weeks on end describing how upset and disappointed i am over the fact that in all likeliness, this election makes it all okay for a the cloven society that we call america to get all riled up and ready to duke it out civil war style [well except with SUV's, H2's, PDA's, and miniature laptops (how many sizes do these things need to come in, fo reezy?!)] and tear each other apart with hate and degrading words and internalized violent acts, the blood of the nation boiling and spilling all over the ground and through the grand canyon, i'm talking about what the hell are people voting out of fear, leaning towards the next "jeebus," choosing to base the next four years on a loose flimsy definition of moral liberties and collective social interest, like, what the hell is up with 11 out of 11 states banning gay marriage as a law(?) can people be so blind/cold/heartless/ununderstanding? you end up with ornery people getting all bent up (and rightly so) about the state of the union and the nature of our divided nation to the degree where they go on drinking binges and yell at people on the street while simultaneously peeing themselves, i mean you get to a point where you have to really deconstruct your hopes and actions and desires until you make yourself transparent to certain truths about the Self, cause what revolution are you really for and which movement are you really against if there are so many crazy people rambling and wandering their way through america searching for truth and the path of righteousness, which mostly means that if you had to weigh your personal beliefs against your neighbor, you might end up with some slightly skewed version of your own life and it keeps changing and adapting as you move from house to house throughout the nation, and so on and so forth, which doesn't mean that i don't also have a viewpoint or passions or disgusts on a socio-cultural/economic/civil rights ideologies, it's just that there's something about something called corruption and the throwing around of large sums of monies that could be spent on something completely more in need of such funds that seems at present so insurmountable, the liberal-leaning Sisyphus, which saddens me because these deluded masses feel that bush is actually going to work for the best interest of america, but instead will be building upon a legacy of hate, deception, and greed in the most modern example of a misuse of power in a country that should know better based on the way most analysts depict our position power-balance-wise, the nations' children altogether at once begin to cry, somewhere a tiny man-devil is dancing a celebratory jig sipping triple-X hoocajoo tonic and whistling a tune, no.
i'm sure that there are more people with more time to spend on the computer, and better word combinations than i have at my disposal. so i leave it to them and their emotionally-backed descriptive pseudo-intellectual fodder.
i'll be out actively deconstructing something else while eating my lunch with no regrets.
---
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
" okay okay okay "
---
kerry man,
you have heart.
i was harsh earlier, and i'm sorry.
well, just a little bit less angry is all.
i just needed to hear it from your own mouth.
i'm sure you understand.
i'm hoping you followthrough.
thanks for your effort.
---
kerry man,
you have heart.
i was harsh earlier, and i'm sorry.
well, just a little bit less angry is all.
i just needed to hear it from your own mouth.
i'm sure you understand.
i'm hoping you followthrough.
thanks for your effort.
---
" where's 'shit creek' again, cause i think those are our paddles floating away "
---
disclaimer: i mean every thing i say, including swears
in conversating with a transanlantic friend via MSN, i got the chance to express my immediate and utter digust at what's happening back at home. be aware that all of these thoughts and reactions are real. that is all.
---
- the bloody mess that is the next four years -
(c) baystar_one...2347
there are things happening that warrant change says:
fuck
there are things happening that warrant change says:
fuck fuck fuck
Rebecca says:
i can't even express the degree of my disgust
there are things happening that warrant change says:
a quadruple fuck for four years more of fuckity fuck fuck
Rebecca says:
this is NOT my country
Rebecca says:
what the fuck is happening???
there are things happening that warrant change says:
right?
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's a nightmare
Rebecca says:
it IS!!!
Rebecca says:
it's the fucking apocalypse
Rebecca says:
it's the decline of the bloated american empire on the HS Moral Values
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i am so worried
Rebecca says:
i just can't believe it
Rebecca says:
i'm seriously in shock
there are things happening that warrant change says:
everytime i see that evil man smile i want to just punch a republican in the neck
Rebecca says:
i have been on the brink of tears and murderous rage all morning
Rebecca says:
i know
Rebecca says:
democracy is the new autocracy
there are things happening that warrant change says:
and why did kerry just fucking cave in instead of going ape shit?
there are things happening that warrant change says:
fuck being nice or humble
Rebecca says:
i know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
there are things happening that warrant change says:
fight fucker!
Rebecca says:
class has its time & place
Rebecca says:
but jesus fucking christ
Rebecca says:
this is WRONG
Rebecca says:
people are STUPID
there are things happening that warrant change says:
very very wrong
there are things happening that warrant change says:
very wrong
Rebecca says:
this country hasn't been so divided since the civil war
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i cannot believe so many people are this willingly blind
Rebecca says:
i know
Rebecca says:
hello pillars of salt
Rebecca says:
and it wouldn't even help to emigrate
there are things happening that warrant change says:
just so eager to be "winners" in the present, that they don't have the foresight of four more years of this tyrant bastard basket-case
Rebecca says:
b/c he's screwing up the WORLD
there are things happening that warrant change says:
yes
Rebecca says:
i know!!!!
Rebecca says:
and what really gets me
there are things happening that warrant change says:
yes?
Rebecca says:
is that the republicans draw on 1) the super rich and 2) the super poor who want to BE super rich
Rebecca says:
how fucking STUPID are those people in the #2 category???
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's true
Rebecca says:
it gets proved over & over & over again
Rebecca says:
but the smart people never win
Rebecca says:
not since clinton, and the stupid bastards dragged HIM down
there are things happening that warrant change says:
why do all these people think this person is the new savior again?
there are things happening that warrant change says:
he sure hasn't shown me any form of compassion, understanding, or courage in the face of evil
there are things happening that warrant change says:
knowing when to do what shows leadership, not the "quick to kill" policy this, and the "pre-emptive now!!" policy that.
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i am just so disappointed in kerry
there are things happening that warrant change says:
really really let down
Rebecca says:
i am disgusted with the country
Rebecca says:
i feel completely alienated
Rebecca says:
and enraged
there are things happening that warrant change says:
he deflated at the hour to keep going?!!
Rebecca says:
i just think it's ridiculous that it's been so close anyway
there are things happening that warrant change says:
like, who are these blind masses, following this "crusader of peace?"
Rebecca says:
who calls him that!?!??!??!
Rebecca says:
what a fucking joke
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i don't know!!!
there are things happening that warrant change says:
ahhhhhh
Rebecca says:
this cannot be happening
Rebecca says:
like moore says at the start of "9/11"
there are things happening that warrant change says:
bush is drawing from his god and mixing it up with hollywood action spectacles
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's baffling that this tinker toy muther has the gall to lead anything bigger than a crooked line
Rebecca says:
agreed!!!
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i did not get the chance to see 9/11
Rebecca says:
ah. more reasons to be depressed. not really anything new, just more horror & reasons to cry
there are things happening that warrant change says:
and kerry's going to speak at 1?
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i wish i had an intercontinental tomato lobber, so i could chuck one right over to him
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i mean, faith and democratic leanings aside, he withered
there are things happening that warrant change says:
jeebus i need some pancakes
Rebecca says:
i need some crack
Rebecca says:
i need another dimension
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i'm going to post this on my blog, for all to see
there are things happening that warrant change says:
everyone must know this fury
Rebecca says:
indeed
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i mean, margins and absentees aside, give us a little hope right?
Rebecca says:
apparently not
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's not like waiting a few days would make you look like a doof. rather, it'd show you stand your ground
Rebecca says:
i guess there's really nothing he can do though, unless they recount several states. we can't blame kerry for the extreme stupidity of this nation. apparently hope is NOT on the way.
there are things happening that warrant change says:
yeah
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's deafening the sound of this victory; it's just so frustrating
Rebecca says:
i know
Rebecca says:
i can't control myself, i'm so upset
Rebecca says:
and you know, it just increases my absolute disgust with my useless job
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's sickening how those graphs of america now look like freedom's blood is washing over the country with greed, napoleonic syndrome, and dumbfoundedness
Rebecca says:
i know, huh??
there are things happening that warrant change says:
ahhhhhh
Rebecca says:
everything from dying innocents to global warming captured in that color
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it makes me think of the red color of aggressive madness and bloodthirty mass consumption
there are things happening that warrant change says:
um, if you want to get psycological about color, and things that bring color meaning
Rebecca says:
yeah, well, exactly. i got chinese food for dinner last night, and you know what my fortune was? "You will be honored for contributing your time and skill to a worthy cause." HA! what a cruel joke.
there are things happening that warrant change says:
sometimes those things are written by republicans i gather
there are things happening that warrant change says:
that, or those monkeys are getting really adept at those millions of typewriters
Rebecca says:
seriously
Rebecca says:
i feel like i'm going to throw up
there are things happening that warrant change says:
yes
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i want to vomit i am so sick of this
Rebecca says:
i just feel so incredibly useless
---
disclaimer: i mean every thing i say, including swears
in conversating with a transanlantic friend via MSN, i got the chance to express my immediate and utter digust at what's happening back at home. be aware that all of these thoughts and reactions are real. that is all.
---
- the bloody mess that is the next four years -
(c) baystar_one...2347
there are things happening that warrant change says:
fuck
there are things happening that warrant change says:
fuck fuck fuck
Rebecca says:
i can't even express the degree of my disgust
there are things happening that warrant change says:
a quadruple fuck for four years more of fuckity fuck fuck
Rebecca says:
this is NOT my country
Rebecca says:
what the fuck is happening???
there are things happening that warrant change says:
right?
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's a nightmare
Rebecca says:
it IS!!!
Rebecca says:
it's the fucking apocalypse
Rebecca says:
it's the decline of the bloated american empire on the HS Moral Values
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i am so worried
Rebecca says:
i just can't believe it
Rebecca says:
i'm seriously in shock
there are things happening that warrant change says:
everytime i see that evil man smile i want to just punch a republican in the neck
Rebecca says:
i have been on the brink of tears and murderous rage all morning
Rebecca says:
i know
Rebecca says:
democracy is the new autocracy
there are things happening that warrant change says:
and why did kerry just fucking cave in instead of going ape shit?
there are things happening that warrant change says:
fuck being nice or humble
Rebecca says:
i know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
there are things happening that warrant change says:
fight fucker!
Rebecca says:
class has its time & place
Rebecca says:
but jesus fucking christ
Rebecca says:
this is WRONG
Rebecca says:
people are STUPID
there are things happening that warrant change says:
very very wrong
there are things happening that warrant change says:
very wrong
Rebecca says:
this country hasn't been so divided since the civil war
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i cannot believe so many people are this willingly blind
Rebecca says:
i know
Rebecca says:
hello pillars of salt
Rebecca says:
and it wouldn't even help to emigrate
there are things happening that warrant change says:
just so eager to be "winners" in the present, that they don't have the foresight of four more years of this tyrant bastard basket-case
Rebecca says:
b/c he's screwing up the WORLD
there are things happening that warrant change says:
yes
Rebecca says:
i know!!!!
Rebecca says:
and what really gets me
there are things happening that warrant change says:
yes?
Rebecca says:
is that the republicans draw on 1) the super rich and 2) the super poor who want to BE super rich
Rebecca says:
how fucking STUPID are those people in the #2 category???
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's true
Rebecca says:
it gets proved over & over & over again
Rebecca says:
but the smart people never win
Rebecca says:
not since clinton, and the stupid bastards dragged HIM down
there are things happening that warrant change says:
why do all these people think this person is the new savior again?
there are things happening that warrant change says:
he sure hasn't shown me any form of compassion, understanding, or courage in the face of evil
there are things happening that warrant change says:
knowing when to do what shows leadership, not the "quick to kill" policy this, and the "pre-emptive now!!" policy that.
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i am just so disappointed in kerry
there are things happening that warrant change says:
really really let down
Rebecca says:
i am disgusted with the country
Rebecca says:
i feel completely alienated
Rebecca says:
and enraged
there are things happening that warrant change says:
he deflated at the hour to keep going?!!
Rebecca says:
i just think it's ridiculous that it's been so close anyway
there are things happening that warrant change says:
like, who are these blind masses, following this "crusader of peace?"
Rebecca says:
who calls him that!?!??!??!
Rebecca says:
what a fucking joke
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i don't know!!!
there are things happening that warrant change says:
ahhhhhh
Rebecca says:
this cannot be happening
Rebecca says:
like moore says at the start of "9/11"
there are things happening that warrant change says:
bush is drawing from his god and mixing it up with hollywood action spectacles
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's baffling that this tinker toy muther has the gall to lead anything bigger than a crooked line
Rebecca says:
agreed!!!
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i did not get the chance to see 9/11
Rebecca says:
ah. more reasons to be depressed. not really anything new, just more horror & reasons to cry
there are things happening that warrant change says:
and kerry's going to speak at 1?
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i wish i had an intercontinental tomato lobber, so i could chuck one right over to him
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i mean, faith and democratic leanings aside, he withered
there are things happening that warrant change says:
jeebus i need some pancakes
Rebecca says:
i need some crack
Rebecca says:
i need another dimension
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i'm going to post this on my blog, for all to see
there are things happening that warrant change says:
everyone must know this fury
Rebecca says:
indeed
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i mean, margins and absentees aside, give us a little hope right?
Rebecca says:
apparently not
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's not like waiting a few days would make you look like a doof. rather, it'd show you stand your ground
Rebecca says:
i guess there's really nothing he can do though, unless they recount several states. we can't blame kerry for the extreme stupidity of this nation. apparently hope is NOT on the way.
there are things happening that warrant change says:
yeah
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's deafening the sound of this victory; it's just so frustrating
Rebecca says:
i know
Rebecca says:
i can't control myself, i'm so upset
Rebecca says:
and you know, it just increases my absolute disgust with my useless job
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it's sickening how those graphs of america now look like freedom's blood is washing over the country with greed, napoleonic syndrome, and dumbfoundedness
Rebecca says:
i know, huh??
there are things happening that warrant change says:
ahhhhhh
Rebecca says:
everything from dying innocents to global warming captured in that color
there are things happening that warrant change says:
it makes me think of the red color of aggressive madness and bloodthirty mass consumption
there are things happening that warrant change says:
um, if you want to get psycological about color, and things that bring color meaning
Rebecca says:
yeah, well, exactly. i got chinese food for dinner last night, and you know what my fortune was? "You will be honored for contributing your time and skill to a worthy cause." HA! what a cruel joke.
there are things happening that warrant change says:
sometimes those things are written by republicans i gather
there are things happening that warrant change says:
that, or those monkeys are getting really adept at those millions of typewriters
Rebecca says:
seriously
Rebecca says:
i feel like i'm going to throw up
there are things happening that warrant change says:
yes
there are things happening that warrant change says:
i want to vomit i am so sick of this
Rebecca says:
i just feel so incredibly useless
---
" look at miss ohio "
---
with fingers firmly planted in my ears (to avoid corruption of 'supposed/alleged' republican victory speeches), i took the time to type out the only kick ass song i know with "ohio" in the lyrics, with my tongue. done in the hopes that it'll give us non-bush-olites some luck in some way to push the kerry-votes through the 'system' just a little faster.
straighten them votes out ohio...we're waiting patiently so you can allow some time for king george II to pack up his stuff, the messy bastard.
---
: look at miss ohio :
oh me-oh-mio, look at miss ohio
she's a-runnin' around with the ragtop down
says i want to do right, but not right now
gonna drive to atlanta
live out this fantasy
running around with the ragtop down
yeah i want to do right, but not right now
had your arm around his shoulder
a regimental soldier
mama starts pushing that wedding gown
yeah you wanna do right, but not right now
oh-me-oh-mio, would you look at miss ohio
she's a-runnin' around with the ragtop down
says i want to right, but not right now
i know all about it
so you don't have to shout it
i'm gonna straighten it out somehow
yeah I want to do right, but not right now
oh-me-oh-mio, look at miss ohio
she's a-running around with the ragtop down
says i want to do right, but not right now
oh i want to do right, but not right now
lyrics and song (c) gillian welch 2003
http://www.gillianwelch.com
---
with fingers firmly planted in my ears (to avoid corruption of 'supposed/alleged' republican victory speeches), i took the time to type out the only kick ass song i know with "ohio" in the lyrics, with my tongue. done in the hopes that it'll give us non-bush-olites some luck in some way to push the kerry-votes through the 'system' just a little faster.
straighten them votes out ohio...we're waiting patiently so you can allow some time for king george II to pack up his stuff, the messy bastard.
---
: look at miss ohio :
oh me-oh-mio, look at miss ohio
she's a-runnin' around with the ragtop down
says i want to do right, but not right now
gonna drive to atlanta
live out this fantasy
running around with the ragtop down
yeah i want to do right, but not right now
had your arm around his shoulder
a regimental soldier
mama starts pushing that wedding gown
yeah you wanna do right, but not right now
oh-me-oh-mio, would you look at miss ohio
she's a-runnin' around with the ragtop down
says i want to right, but not right now
i know all about it
so you don't have to shout it
i'm gonna straighten it out somehow
yeah I want to do right, but not right now
oh-me-oh-mio, look at miss ohio
she's a-running around with the ragtop down
says i want to do right, but not right now
oh i want to do right, but not right now
lyrics and song (c) gillian welch 2003
http://www.gillianwelch.com
---
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
" voting is rad ("now available in int'l" flavor) "
---
i voted today, and then had to thank a friend of mine for helping me out. big up to emi louie-nishikawa all the way in jiggity japan. thanks yo. that was right swell of you it was.
the following blog post is a version of the letter i sent to her:
---
dear emi,
i just wanted to thank you for the information you sent to me the other night regarding the overseas absentee vote thingie-thingie. i just wanted to tell you what happened.
so i was going ape-poo over the fact that my absentee wasn't here already. since my parents are here, i went onto that fax/voter info/electronic transfer weblink to pdf. file site-thing, and did the ole click click, clickity-click.
i got the fax sheets, the information, and every other little smidget of necessary information possible with the full intention of voting while in thailand. then since it was one in the morning, i thought to myself, "what better time to call up my parents than around oh, 'hella too late at night/early in the morning,' and tell them what i found out?" which i promptly did.
needless to say, they were all about voting, but at present groggily unexcited. my mom also reminded me that we are about 14 hours ahead (15 now due to daylight savings...or spendings...whatever the name is...time), of the U.S., and to just call and discuss about the how-to and what-to do's about the voting situation the following day. which i promptly did.
so, this morning, i go with my mom to the U.S. embassy by bus, and i got all of this information there, filled out a crapload of voting papers, then double-sealed the security envelope. i licked about four security barrier things to affix the letter to itself, then it was all filled out, addressed properly, and ready to send. voting is rad.
i walk up to the helper-person window lady, and she looks at me all crooked...
(i can only guess that this is due to all the annoying crazy americans trying to extend their visas, renew existing ones, and generally being umpity and annoyingly americans...which means pouty, childish, and pushy. so hey, americans? yeah, can you do me and the rest of the world's embassies a favor and not yell at people because they don't speak the gloriously annoying amount of english that you do? i mean, they mostly learn grammar here, and conversational english is just not really a grand priority. please realize you are disrespecting people with your broad high-DB-pitched audible accusations. it's true. yeah, that would help me out a lot, because then i wouldn't feel like making you look the the ass-buckets you are, to the rest of the americans in the embassy/on the street/in the markets/on public transportation. it's cool to have a loud voice, but can you pretend that the world is a little larger than [fill in generic townsburg here]? well, it is. while you're at it, realize that in thailand, a really excessive show of skin at a buddhist temple is just not proper. not meaning that your flabby sweaty tanned-in-certain-visible-areas skin is repulsive..um, to look at, but it's culturally not proper. cover yourself up, or else you might have to wear the clothes provided at the doors of most temples... which is nasty and smells like the body odor thousands of other people who refuse to respect the fact that they are in a different country/culture/place with over 2547 years of buddhist religious beliefs built upon a tradition of animism and spirituality. also know that socks are required too, or else you can wear the temple's provided socks of the same odor content as the clothes stated above. yeah, please get in on that. thanks.)
...then asks me, "what do you want to do? "
i told her i was here to cast my vote for the presidency, and i found all of this info in the office, filled out everything, and want to hand it over to the proper place...which is the U.S. embassy.
she looks at all of my prepared forms, sets them aside, then looks at the prepared absentee voter security letter (of which has a pre-paid U.S. postal stampy-stamp already printed on it), then looks right all up into my eyes and asks, "so, what you're telling me is that you want to leave this here?"
inside my head and to the side, i'm simultaneously laughing my ass off, kicking her ole embassy-ass in the face, and awkwardly staring all cock-eyed and slack-jawed in disbelief. where else am i supposed to put this thing? it said on the posters on the wall, the pamphlet next to the forms, online, the people at the security desk, and over the loudspeaker, to give it to your window (or the next available helpful person's window). i mean, rocket science?? c'mon...wake up, ahhhhhh.
then i realize i'm being a flipping internal-asshole to be thinking like this (see above rant about americans in foreign countries - with a focus on thailand). i just gave in to my momentary lapse of understanding and patience, then say "yes." but not really like "yes" in the confident, i'm-making-a-decision-that-i-mean-to-make-and-now-i-am-audibly-affirming-said-decision sort of way. it was in a more pseudo-questiony unsure-if-she-was-for-real kind of way, cause i was hoping that i didn't do anything wrong.
and i didn't.
i voted. she took the vote-envelope, and hopefully at this very moment, it's going straight onto a plane this afternoon headed for california.
word bird.
i await the results.
love,
bay
---
i voted today, and then had to thank a friend of mine for helping me out. big up to emi louie-nishikawa all the way in jiggity japan. thanks yo. that was right swell of you it was.
the following blog post is a version of the letter i sent to her:
---
dear emi,
i just wanted to thank you for the information you sent to me the other night regarding the overseas absentee vote thingie-thingie. i just wanted to tell you what happened.
so i was going ape-poo over the fact that my absentee wasn't here already. since my parents are here, i went onto that fax/voter info/electronic transfer weblink to pdf. file site-thing, and did the ole click click, clickity-click.
i got the fax sheets, the information, and every other little smidget of necessary information possible with the full intention of voting while in thailand. then since it was one in the morning, i thought to myself, "what better time to call up my parents than around oh, 'hella too late at night/early in the morning,' and tell them what i found out?" which i promptly did.
needless to say, they were all about voting, but at present groggily unexcited. my mom also reminded me that we are about 14 hours ahead (15 now due to daylight savings...or spendings...whatever the name is...time), of the U.S., and to just call and discuss about the how-to and what-to do's about the voting situation the following day. which i promptly did.
so, this morning, i go with my mom to the U.S. embassy by bus, and i got all of this information there, filled out a crapload of voting papers, then double-sealed the security envelope. i licked about four security barrier things to affix the letter to itself, then it was all filled out, addressed properly, and ready to send. voting is rad.
i walk up to the helper-person window lady, and she looks at me all crooked...
(i can only guess that this is due to all the annoying crazy americans trying to extend their visas, renew existing ones, and generally being umpity and annoyingly americans...which means pouty, childish, and pushy. so hey, americans? yeah, can you do me and the rest of the world's embassies a favor and not yell at people because they don't speak the gloriously annoying amount of english that you do? i mean, they mostly learn grammar here, and conversational english is just not really a grand priority. please realize you are disrespecting people with your broad high-DB-pitched audible accusations. it's true. yeah, that would help me out a lot, because then i wouldn't feel like making you look the the ass-buckets you are, to the rest of the americans in the embassy/on the street/in the markets/on public transportation. it's cool to have a loud voice, but can you pretend that the world is a little larger than [fill in generic townsburg here]? well, it is. while you're at it, realize that in thailand, a really excessive show of skin at a buddhist temple is just not proper. not meaning that your flabby sweaty tanned-in-certain-visible-areas skin is repulsive..um, to look at, but it's culturally not proper. cover yourself up, or else you might have to wear the clothes provided at the doors of most temples... which is nasty and smells like the body odor thousands of other people who refuse to respect the fact that they are in a different country/culture/place with over 2547 years of buddhist religious beliefs built upon a tradition of animism and spirituality. also know that socks are required too, or else you can wear the temple's provided socks of the same odor content as the clothes stated above. yeah, please get in on that. thanks.)
...then asks me, "what do you want to do? "
i told her i was here to cast my vote for the presidency, and i found all of this info in the office, filled out everything, and want to hand it over to the proper place...which is the U.S. embassy.
she looks at all of my prepared forms, sets them aside, then looks at the prepared absentee voter security letter (of which has a pre-paid U.S. postal stampy-stamp already printed on it), then looks right all up into my eyes and asks, "so, what you're telling me is that you want to leave this here?"
inside my head and to the side, i'm simultaneously laughing my ass off, kicking her ole embassy-ass in the face, and awkwardly staring all cock-eyed and slack-jawed in disbelief. where else am i supposed to put this thing? it said on the posters on the wall, the pamphlet next to the forms, online, the people at the security desk, and over the loudspeaker, to give it to your window (or the next available helpful person's window). i mean, rocket science?? c'mon...wake up, ahhhhhh.
then i realize i'm being a flipping internal-asshole to be thinking like this (see above rant about americans in foreign countries - with a focus on thailand). i just gave in to my momentary lapse of understanding and patience, then say "yes." but not really like "yes" in the confident, i'm-making-a-decision-that-i-mean-to-make-and-now-i-am-audibly-affirming-said-decision sort of way. it was in a more pseudo-questiony unsure-if-she-was-for-real kind of way, cause i was hoping that i didn't do anything wrong.
and i didn't.
i voted. she took the vote-envelope, and hopefully at this very moment, it's going straight onto a plane this afternoon headed for california.
word bird.
i await the results.
love,
bay
---
Monday, November 01, 2004
" thai opinion on U.S. election "
---
this is hot from the editor's desk at 'The Nation,' an independent english-language newspaper based in Bangkok, Thailand. if you wanted to know an international perspective on the U.S. elections, then read ahead. if not, then it won't hurt to spend 4 minutes of your precious precious free time to skim through this editorial; i promise to be nice to you. you may or may not agree with what he states, but who said that opinions don't matter?
so, yay thailand; we up in this mutha.
---
REGIONAL PERSPECTIVE: Why John Kerry is the better candidate
Published on November 01, 2004
I wish I could vote in the US presidential election tomorrow. Doubtless my choice would be John Kerry. Whoever becomes the next US president will matter a lot to the people of Asia, because his leadership will have large repercussions on our lives here, more than we can imagine.
We can easily look back and take stock of the extraordinary changes that have take place since 2000. For me, a vote for Bush is a vote for more violence and more anti-Americanism and therefore a more dangerous world.
Conversely, a vote for Kerry is a vote for a more humble America that is willing to listen and mend fences. An America that is not hated overseas will make the world safer. An America that is at peace with itself will bring peace to the world.
Unfortunately, this is the choice that the American people have to make, and it is theirs alone. Never before has the electoral choice in a country been so closely scrutinised and prayed for internationally. As a Thai who follows closely President George W Bush's foreign policy, I wish him well and hope he languishes at his farm in Texas. I mean it.
Nothing personal, but he is too dangerous to the future world. It is just the way he thinks. The way he sees global politics and its operational mechanisms makes him unfit to be the leader of the world's most powerful nation. The US, he contends, can do anything it sees fit to fight terrorism.
American exceptionalism, the act of distinguishing the US from the rest of the world, has been more frequently invoked by the Bush team than by any past administration. This mind set views the world as a hostile place for the American people because the justice and protections guaranteed by the US constitution are not universal. But there are other reasons why the US needs a new leader.
First, every time I watch Bush speak, especially during the war in Iraq and its aftermath, I become upset. His body language is very vulgar. He likes to lean forward with his left arm resting on the edge of the podium whenever he refers to American fire-power. When he says he will kill more terrorists, he raises his eyebrows. Foreigners who watch CNN or the BBC immediately feel offended because of this aggressive body language. Indeed Bush himself has generated anti-Americanism with such gestures.
He has made people around the world dislike the United States, an accomplishment that no past president can claim. To re-elect him would mean more of the same, and in some cases the effects could be worse. Bush has said the war on terrorism will continue with a vengeance, no matter what. That could be lethal to everyone.
Second, Kerry knows better the scope and consequences of the uses of American power. He was in Vietnam. He also knows what a friendly American can do with lots of help from friends around the world. This quality alone should inspire American voters to pick Kerry.
The Americans should have realised by now that there is a strong link between their homeland safety and US policies abroad. Bush's claim that he will make America safe from terrorism is rather pompous given the level of anti-American sentiment he has created.
In a globalised world, how can the United States be safe if the rest of the world dislikes it for whatever reason? It is difficult to make a country safe if it insists on the unilateral use of force to solve its problems.
Third, although in the past three years the US has been very close to Southeast Asia because it is considered a second front in the fight against terrorism, I still think a Kerry presidency would be good for Southeast Asia.
Under Bush, the US has placed a premium price on the campaign against terrorism. Everything has been framed by this campaign. Bush is lucky to have General Colin Powell as his diplomatic front man. Without him, The US' image and position in the region would be worse than it is.
Powell has become the only US secretary of state never to have missed an Asean-related meeting. He has attended both the Asean Post Ministerial Conference (PMC) and the Asean Regional Forum. That alone has won him admiration and respect in the region. He even sang and danced at a PMC party.
If Kerry wins, he must pick a Powell clone. Certainly it will be hard to find someone to fill his shoes. Just imagine a Colin Powell-like secretary of state working for a friendlier and wiser president. That would be a grand asset for the American people.
Fourth, I am sure Kerry would be able to establish a personal rapport with Southeast Asian leaders, unlike Bush. Former president Bill Clinton was exemplary when it came to building personal relations. I remember when he met former prime minister Chuan Leekpai at the White House.
They were more than just national leaders meeting for a photo-op. That was a meeting of minds and of friends. Clinton's decision to waive fines over Thailand's delayed payment for American jet fighters demonstrated how close personal relations between national leaders can end up. Bush was able to establish a rapport with British Prime Minister Tony Blair. But that was it. Has he established a good rapport with any leader in Asean? Certainly not with Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. Bilateral ties between Thailand and the United States have been reduced to deal-making exercises.
Fifth, with Kerry the US could review its wrong-headed policies, especially those having to do with conflicts in the Middle East and in the Muslim world. Bush, on the other hand, would continue to use force and court dictators or potential dictators who are tough on terrorism and willing to adopt the US agenda. Friendships based on distorted vision have strengthened the hands of dictators around the world.
Finally, Kerry would surely seek changes in immigration law. I was in London recently, and it took me less than one minute - I repeat less than one minute - to pass through immigration. "How many days are you here for?" asked an officer. "Just three," I relied. "Why don't you stay longer?" he said. "Have fun," he said, bidding me farewell. That was it.
Confident nations assign immigration officers who do not threaten and insult incoming foreigners. These days, visitors entering the US, especially in Los Angeles, are likely be greeted by an immigration official whose face bears the following message: Could you not come to America? We are fine on our own. Go away.
For an ordinary foreigner, a snappy and unpretentious first encounter at an immigration booth turns into peace dividends. It is the kind of goodwill capital that any country should seek to accumulate, because it makes people feel good and want to return.
Post your comment to this story here
editorial and opinions stated are © 2004 Nation Multimedia Group
44 Moo 10 Bang Na-Trat KM 4.5,
Bang Na district, Bangkok 10260
Thailand
Tel 66-2-325-5555 ext 2457 or fax 66-2-317-2071
---
there's still time to have your voice heard.
let's get to them awaited polls america, and remove bush from the white house.
---
this is hot from the editor's desk at 'The Nation,' an independent english-language newspaper based in Bangkok, Thailand. if you wanted to know an international perspective on the U.S. elections, then read ahead. if not, then it won't hurt to spend 4 minutes of your precious precious free time to skim through this editorial; i promise to be nice to you. you may or may not agree with what he states, but who said that opinions don't matter?
so, yay thailand; we up in this mutha.
---
REGIONAL PERSPECTIVE: Why John Kerry is the better candidate
Published on November 01, 2004
I wish I could vote in the US presidential election tomorrow. Doubtless my choice would be John Kerry. Whoever becomes the next US president will matter a lot to the people of Asia, because his leadership will have large repercussions on our lives here, more than we can imagine.
We can easily look back and take stock of the extraordinary changes that have take place since 2000. For me, a vote for Bush is a vote for more violence and more anti-Americanism and therefore a more dangerous world.
Conversely, a vote for Kerry is a vote for a more humble America that is willing to listen and mend fences. An America that is not hated overseas will make the world safer. An America that is at peace with itself will bring peace to the world.
Unfortunately, this is the choice that the American people have to make, and it is theirs alone. Never before has the electoral choice in a country been so closely scrutinised and prayed for internationally. As a Thai who follows closely President George W Bush's foreign policy, I wish him well and hope he languishes at his farm in Texas. I mean it.
Nothing personal, but he is too dangerous to the future world. It is just the way he thinks. The way he sees global politics and its operational mechanisms makes him unfit to be the leader of the world's most powerful nation. The US, he contends, can do anything it sees fit to fight terrorism.
American exceptionalism, the act of distinguishing the US from the rest of the world, has been more frequently invoked by the Bush team than by any past administration. This mind set views the world as a hostile place for the American people because the justice and protections guaranteed by the US constitution are not universal. But there are other reasons why the US needs a new leader.
First, every time I watch Bush speak, especially during the war in Iraq and its aftermath, I become upset. His body language is very vulgar. He likes to lean forward with his left arm resting on the edge of the podium whenever he refers to American fire-power. When he says he will kill more terrorists, he raises his eyebrows. Foreigners who watch CNN or the BBC immediately feel offended because of this aggressive body language. Indeed Bush himself has generated anti-Americanism with such gestures.
He has made people around the world dislike the United States, an accomplishment that no past president can claim. To re-elect him would mean more of the same, and in some cases the effects could be worse. Bush has said the war on terrorism will continue with a vengeance, no matter what. That could be lethal to everyone.
Second, Kerry knows better the scope and consequences of the uses of American power. He was in Vietnam. He also knows what a friendly American can do with lots of help from friends around the world. This quality alone should inspire American voters to pick Kerry.
The Americans should have realised by now that there is a strong link between their homeland safety and US policies abroad. Bush's claim that he will make America safe from terrorism is rather pompous given the level of anti-American sentiment he has created.
In a globalised world, how can the United States be safe if the rest of the world dislikes it for whatever reason? It is difficult to make a country safe if it insists on the unilateral use of force to solve its problems.
Third, although in the past three years the US has been very close to Southeast Asia because it is considered a second front in the fight against terrorism, I still think a Kerry presidency would be good for Southeast Asia.
Under Bush, the US has placed a premium price on the campaign against terrorism. Everything has been framed by this campaign. Bush is lucky to have General Colin Powell as his diplomatic front man. Without him, The US' image and position in the region would be worse than it is.
Powell has become the only US secretary of state never to have missed an Asean-related meeting. He has attended both the Asean Post Ministerial Conference (PMC) and the Asean Regional Forum. That alone has won him admiration and respect in the region. He even sang and danced at a PMC party.
If Kerry wins, he must pick a Powell clone. Certainly it will be hard to find someone to fill his shoes. Just imagine a Colin Powell-like secretary of state working for a friendlier and wiser president. That would be a grand asset for the American people.
Fourth, I am sure Kerry would be able to establish a personal rapport with Southeast Asian leaders, unlike Bush. Former president Bill Clinton was exemplary when it came to building personal relations. I remember when he met former prime minister Chuan Leekpai at the White House.
They were more than just national leaders meeting for a photo-op. That was a meeting of minds and of friends. Clinton's decision to waive fines over Thailand's delayed payment for American jet fighters demonstrated how close personal relations between national leaders can end up. Bush was able to establish a rapport with British Prime Minister Tony Blair. But that was it. Has he established a good rapport with any leader in Asean? Certainly not with Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. Bilateral ties between Thailand and the United States have been reduced to deal-making exercises.
Fifth, with Kerry the US could review its wrong-headed policies, especially those having to do with conflicts in the Middle East and in the Muslim world. Bush, on the other hand, would continue to use force and court dictators or potential dictators who are tough on terrorism and willing to adopt the US agenda. Friendships based on distorted vision have strengthened the hands of dictators around the world.
Finally, Kerry would surely seek changes in immigration law. I was in London recently, and it took me less than one minute - I repeat less than one minute - to pass through immigration. "How many days are you here for?" asked an officer. "Just three," I relied. "Why don't you stay longer?" he said. "Have fun," he said, bidding me farewell. That was it.
Confident nations assign immigration officers who do not threaten and insult incoming foreigners. These days, visitors entering the US, especially in Los Angeles, are likely be greeted by an immigration official whose face bears the following message: Could you not come to America? We are fine on our own. Go away.
For an ordinary foreigner, a snappy and unpretentious first encounter at an immigration booth turns into peace dividends. It is the kind of goodwill capital that any country should seek to accumulate, because it makes people feel good and want to return.
Post your comment to this story here
editorial and opinions stated are © 2004 Nation Multimedia Group
44 Moo 10 Bang Na-Trat KM 4.5,
Bang Na district, Bangkok 10260
Thailand
Tel 66-2-325-5555 ext 2457 or fax 66-2-317-2071
---
there's still time to have your voice heard.
let's get to them awaited polls america, and remove bush from the white house.
---
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