wanderlust

we landed on monday night intact and wen kien's dad gave the kembangan clubbers a ride home ("next time call after you land"). unpacking alone back in my room, i look at my new books and stack up my new dvds and think about when im going to book the flight back.



khao san was most parts of the trip for me. it was quiet and clean in the mornings when i'd walk alone for breakfast before the rest woke up. and it'd be drunk and dirty at nights with the rest of the gang. it'd be playing thai songs over the PA as i walked home to the guesthouse in the mornings. and crazy/ drunk ang mohs and asians in the evenings ("only after five").



the company was good. ahmad his pizzle shit self, getting himself sick and making me carry his backpack over half the city trying to find a doctor (which in the end came with a lawyer attached, ostensibly for malpractice suits, i told them). mostly we told him to TLAM (talk less act more) because he was posing himself witless. mag was at her ang mo kio housewife best and ivan was the stern-faced straight boy back in the couch at Night Boys.



thais were quirky and infectious in their silent ways. we loved the king for as long as we were there and "what you want?! what you want?!" became synonymous with "why, you...". thai food like the kind we ate in singapore was well, like the kind we ate in singapore, but thai food like the kind the thais ate was, we agreed unanimously, smelly and deemed worthy cause for a divorce.


but more than anything, i sent my heart to the netherlands...

wanderlust

so much for being nude in stanzas. the past year or so was more or less filled with deceit and lies and buried words and regrets. now it's about wanderlust, it lies in the roads and rails, life. standing at nineteen, almost twenty, almost a man, forever a boy, right now it's damn near from where i began, but the world seems to have been done twice over. so i'd like to know where the road goes from here, does it go right around the world, where i vomit at the end of it? or does the end lie in goa? right now the road is the destination and adventure the finale. when there's more things than one can take in, who really has the time for the hearts of men?

next week, bangkok, where i think i might find harith my dear blood. i leave on tiger airways from SIN to BKK, just like he did. maybe at the end of it i might pluck up enough courage to call and say i dont care for anything, just happy birthday. because past the lies and manipulations, it was soul to soul, less the hassle of romance and lust and infatuation.

india too, with the holiday boys. because with us four it's wild, unadulterated, reckless, death-defying. nothing makes life more alive than a good week with them. also a good orientation, for when i return, emancipated as a traveller, to take on India.

australia, on my own. most prolly i'll redeem my free ticket for after ord so i can return when i'm well and truly done with the continent. earlier tonight i found myself outside rizal's window after closing at 130. it was all i could do not to knock on his windows - his lights were on but the blinds were drawn. and from my bike the distance seemed simply too far to bridge. perhaps this is what it needs, a little more distance, a bit of a sea between us, so i can really say i hope you didnt mean what you say about god and you and i.

mecca, to find my father, and to know him for what he stands for and why. and to tell him that i am his son and he my father, that i am him, no matter what i might be.

this is the beginning of the road, Major Tom who lost contact with ground control just as he was stepping out of the capsule. Laika who astounded the world. in the day now there's management-me, and in the night i wait tables. weekends is for tuition. every month brings a bit less than 2000. well, the flesh is able but is the spirit willing? further details on how i do to follow.