the sniffles.
As to where I'll start, it will only do justice to begin where I am, tucked away with my first night in my new apartment in Bangkok. It's a little place I like to think of as home. And after the last month of gallivanting my way around North America and into the homes of those dearest and loved, casting envious stares at their piles of books and worldly clutter, I now have my three books arranged snuggly on a shelf. And all I can really think of to think and say now that it's over, is FUCK you nose for being stuffy and runny and sneezy! Be warned, these sniffles have made me delirious.
I'm on a bit of a kick, you see. As I explained to my brother at one point along the path from New York to Maine, the most critical issue I'm trying to conquer at this point is just this, I love everything. He looked at me quite skeptically, as he often does, and questioned my declaration, to which I then partially reneged. However, I caught myself once again proclaiming this just the other night from atop a boat, so overcome with this passion and gibbering on about how everything in life is speechlessly fantastic, which actually turns out to more likely be my passion for the Jack and coke spilling over now that I give it another thought.
I could write here about my trip through the states, the way old friends felt in embrace, the color of Minnesota autumn, or the taste of horse radish infused vodka - oh snap - I wouldn't actually know that, now would I?
That smile is a pure result of non-horseradish infused vodka. Try something like tiramasu.
But things happened so quickly it would leave anyone's head more in a fuzz than someone who actually experienced it. However one of the things that came clear to me throughout the journey is people really have no idea where I am. "Thailand" seems to be a challenge for many a vocabulary, easily confused with other words such as "China" or often "Singapore."
An exceptionally traffic free picture in the heart of the city.
Where I live, in Bangkok, the capitol of Thailand, is a bustling metropolis of poorly-clad and well-to-do Asians, confused tourists with their noses stuck in lonely planets (albeit more of a rarity after the red shirt occurrences), a flutter of tall Russian models mingling through, taxi drivers, and beggars of every shape, size, and color, and… what I'm getting at, is it's your basic metropolis, just a lot different. And I love that difference. There's traffic, potholes, and crazy motha-fuckers as everywhere, but life is more carefree. It's a city oasis of street vendors selling fresh foods, soups, and meat on sticks for a price not worth mentioning. There's not the paranoia of Muhammad's on every corner going jihad on you, or overpriced, calorie-stuffed fluff. There are coconuts, though.
A city like any other - pigeons, signs in English, and a whole freaking disorganized load of wiring
Anyway, nothing too straight is coming out here except a lot of sneezing followed with the notion that I love everything. :)
.
I'm on a bit of a kick, you see. As I explained to my brother at one point along the path from New York to Maine, the most critical issue I'm trying to conquer at this point is just this, I love everything. He looked at me quite skeptically, as he often does, and questioned my declaration, to which I then partially reneged. However, I caught myself once again proclaiming this just the other night from atop a boat, so overcome with this passion and gibbering on about how everything in life is speechlessly fantastic, which actually turns out to more likely be my passion for the Jack and coke spilling over now that I give it another thought.
I could write here about my trip through the states, the way old friends felt in embrace, the color of Minnesota autumn, or the taste of horse radish infused vodka - oh snap - I wouldn't actually know that, now would I?
That smile is a pure result of non-horseradish infused vodka. Try something like tiramasu.
But things happened so quickly it would leave anyone's head more in a fuzz than someone who actually experienced it. However one of the things that came clear to me throughout the journey is people really have no idea where I am. "Thailand" seems to be a challenge for many a vocabulary, easily confused with other words such as "China" or often "Singapore."
An exceptionally traffic free picture in the heart of the city.
Where I live, in Bangkok, the capitol of Thailand, is a bustling metropolis of poorly-clad and well-to-do Asians, confused tourists with their noses stuck in lonely planets (albeit more of a rarity after the red shirt occurrences), a flutter of tall Russian models mingling through, taxi drivers, and beggars of every shape, size, and color, and… what I'm getting at, is it's your basic metropolis, just a lot different. And I love that difference. There's traffic, potholes, and crazy motha-fuckers as everywhere, but life is more carefree. It's a city oasis of street vendors selling fresh foods, soups, and meat on sticks for a price not worth mentioning. There's not the paranoia of Muhammad's on every corner going jihad on you, or overpriced, calorie-stuffed fluff. There are coconuts, though.
A city like any other - pigeons, signs in English, and a whole freaking disorganized load of wiring
Anyway, nothing too straight is coming out here except a lot of sneezing followed with the notion that I love everything. :)
.