Hello, World!
Crash at 9pm. Up at 4:30am. Reading Mary Higgins Clark's "Nighttime Is My Time." Can't figure out if that is true or false. If it's irony or silliness.
Downstairs for a stretch and a smoke. Lobby filled with bowing employees. And one fat American/Australian/Brit/German (aka 'white guy') with two giggling hookers.
24 hr Foodmart across the street. Why not, right? There's nothing I enjoy quite as much as scouring shelves of foreign grocery stores. Now then, what do I need at 4:30 in the morning? There are just so many Martian-shaped variations on dragonfruits available! How to choose? Best to move on to another aisle.
How about a nice bunch of pre-dawn loganberries? Or a packet of soup with an animé creature hitting his acid peak on the label?
Dried squid, with an animé picture of a tuning fork with eyes on the packaging? (Or perhaps it's a cartoon of a squid impersonating a tuning fork.)
Oh, this aisle seems popular. Twenty Ethiopians arguing loudly about which beer to buy. For me, it's no contest. "Leo." Duh. I'm a late-July baby. And a bottle of "Chang Light" for Ben. They should be nice n' chilled in our minibar by the time Ben wakes up.
Our minibar is turning into a maxibar. We cleared out that silly, innocuous water stash and replaced it with single-malt Japanese Scotch (???), a nice bottle of duty-free saké I bought at Narita aëroport yesterday, and these magnums of beer for 45 baht each (US$1.50ish).
Standing in the street with my cigarette and booze, it seems, perhaps rightly, that I'm up for a late-night snog with a giggling whore, so they attend to me in droves.
I need to learn a word or two of Thai, stat. Like, "No, thank you," would be a good start. Instead, all I hear, and all I can reply, is, "Meow meow." Every word in Thai sounds like "meow meow" to me. Herro, Kitty!
Just popped a Klonopin, thanks very much you-know-who for the score. Hope it will knock me out for a few more hours. And replace whatever seratonin upheaval is going on in my poor brain since I left my scrip of Crazy Pills in New Orleans.
Tomorrow morning (or whenever I wake up) I'm going to try to find a shady pharmacy that will replenish my real stash. Barring that, I'll just eat my weight in bizarre dragonfruits and green curries and enjoy life in that manner.
In conclusion: meow meow, y'all.
Downstairs for a stretch and a smoke. Lobby filled with bowing employees. And one fat American/Australian/Brit/German (aka 'white guy') with two giggling hookers.
24 hr Foodmart across the street. Why not, right? There's nothing I enjoy quite as much as scouring shelves of foreign grocery stores. Now then, what do I need at 4:30 in the morning? There are just so many Martian-shaped variations on dragonfruits available! How to choose? Best to move on to another aisle.
How about a nice bunch of pre-dawn loganberries? Or a packet of soup with an animé creature hitting his acid peak on the label?
Dried squid, with an animé picture of a tuning fork with eyes on the packaging? (Or perhaps it's a cartoon of a squid impersonating a tuning fork.)
Oh, this aisle seems popular. Twenty Ethiopians arguing loudly about which beer to buy. For me, it's no contest. "Leo." Duh. I'm a late-July baby. And a bottle of "Chang Light" for Ben. They should be nice n' chilled in our minibar by the time Ben wakes up.
Our minibar is turning into a maxibar. We cleared out that silly, innocuous water stash and replaced it with single-malt Japanese Scotch (???), a nice bottle of duty-free saké I bought at Narita aëroport yesterday, and these magnums of beer for 45 baht each (US$1.50ish).
Standing in the street with my cigarette and booze, it seems, perhaps rightly, that I'm up for a late-night snog with a giggling whore, so they attend to me in droves.
I need to learn a word or two of Thai, stat. Like, "No, thank you," would be a good start. Instead, all I hear, and all I can reply, is, "Meow meow." Every word in Thai sounds like "meow meow" to me. Herro, Kitty!
Just popped a Klonopin, thanks very much you-know-who for the score. Hope it will knock me out for a few more hours. And replace whatever seratonin upheaval is going on in my poor brain since I left my scrip of Crazy Pills in New Orleans.
Tomorrow morning (or whenever I wake up) I'm going to try to find a shady pharmacy that will replenish my real stash. Barring that, I'll just eat my weight in bizarre dragonfruits and green curries and enjoy life in that manner.
In conclusion: meow meow, y'all.