Read and Review

One of the best things about being abroad is the free time I have for reading. Over the past few months I've read over ten books. In the last week or two I've read more than five. Oh yeah, I've put in spoilers. If you care about that shit I advise not reading much more.




I began my trip overseas by reading "Sex at Dawn." The non fiction "anthropological" book primarily argues against the institution of monogamy. The book focuses on the failings of marraige and the trappings of sexual chasteness. The authors argue that humans are sexual animals, one of the more sexual beasts that crawl the earth. The book compares man-beasts lecherous nature with those of chimps and bonobos, who are not only our closest biological relatives but also as driven by their genitals as we are. The testicle size and penile length of our close cousins is even compared to ours. Did you know that human males have the largest dicks, far outsizing the crawling gorillas of the jungle? Women have the largest breasts as well. We are not the top list in terms of testicle sizes, Chimps and Bonobos outsize us. Bummer.

Along with the length and size of our loins the authors also talk about other physiological aspects of human sexual nature including women's tendency to be outspoken while in the act of coitus. Why is that? The authors ask. The writers argue that the tendency for women to be talkative is an alert to let other members of the species that she is ripe, and well willing (at least at the time).

The authors also depict societies in which there is no parental certainty as being advantageous to the offspring. The children are well taken care of as there is no validity to the male parent so the responsibility is shared, and so are the impregnation duties in some societies.

The strength of this book is simple it just restates an obvious fact, humans are highly sexual beasts. When we are not fucking, we are wanting to fuck, looking at each other fuck (usually in some sort of mediated form), and planning on who to fuck next. The problem with human sexuality as it is today hasn't been solved by the glorious institution of monogamy, nor has it been doing much better under the rubric of polyamory especially in "radical circles." It certainly doesn't help that capital is always dabbing its finger into the pudding. Until somehow our world becomes a different place, with different mores, its still tisk, tisk, to human sexuality in whatever its social incarnations.
I love short stories. They are short and succinct. I think the talents of a writer can oft be seen in their ability to weave a short tale. F.Scott Fitzgerald never struck me as a short story type. I found his large collection in a bookstore in San Francisco. I picked it up because it was long and I figured it would pass the time whilst abroad. Its been three months since I read the collection. My recollections aren't that accurate. I don't remember each story, nor do I care. The stories are mainly about a middle class man's love and pursuit of an upper class woman. BORING!!! As a caveat I'd like to mention that if an upperclass woman adored me, with more than her love perhaps some financial backing, this working class prole would be happy. Fitzgerald's fascination with upper class women and adoring middle class men has probably a bit to do with his personal life.

My housemate gave a presentation on a Graham Greene essay. The essay was "Can I borrow your husband," or something like that. The story told of a newly wed couple who come to an inn in Europe or some other banal place. The narrator of the story is a writer onlooking the events. The new bride, whose name is Poopie, a rather unfortunate name don't you think, is unaware of the true gender dynamics of what happens. The couple comes to the inn where a homosexual couple are staying, they decide to stay a little longer in hopes of turning the groom. They jaunt about the countryside with the new groom and seduce him.

The seduction and the stealing of a partner continues, well in some ways, in Graham Greene's novel "The Quiet American." The title is quite ironic, as the antagonist is a rather naive and annoying American. Again the narrator is a writer, a reporter in Vietnam. The narrator is dating a local girl, ooh how exotic. The woman has the bare outlines of a personality, with the majority of her character being flushed out by her sister who merely wants her married off and secure. The antagonist, a bastardly American attempts to steal the local girl away. The narrator and the antagonist have a gut wrenching conversation in the trenches and luckily by the end of the novel the antagonist is dead. Thank the gods for that. A dead American is a quiet American.

I've read a couple Ernest Hemingway books now. I think I wrote about "Across the River and into the Trees" The bookstores here in Bangkok aren't that great. The largest one is in Siam Paragon. Their literature section is poor with classics but little of interest. So I picked up another Hemingway Novel. Continuing on the theme of amorous woman; "The Sun Also Rises: Fiesta" follows a stoic narrator, surprise, surprise. The narrator has an affair with a woman who is engaged. Then she runs off and has other affairs with other men. Everyone goes to Spain to some some bullfighting, very macho! Her finance comes along on the fiesta. The narrator, the fiance, a guy she slept with and one more dude go out to together. Bulls are killed. Sentences are short. The woman runs off with a bull fighter. He is bludgeoned by the jealous ex lover (not the narrator). The fiance gets drunk. The woman stays for a while with the matador. He is young, talented, and apt to hit the ceiling of his talent. Their youthful relationship fails. The woman goes back with the narrator. She needs someone. Hemingway's women are so fickle, oh how typical.

In my continuing pursuit of happiness, or some sort of Thai literature education I've scoured the book stores for more Thai literature. Mad Dogs and Company by Chart Korbjitti is the third novel I've read by the SEA award winner and a definitive departure from the other novels I've read by the author. The story follows a few friends as they grow up in and around Bangkok. The friends become hippies and hang out in Pattaya. They have problems with their families, grinding against institution of the family. They grow out of their "situations" and eventually find redemption and the eventual approval of their family to a greater or lesser extent. Like Hemingway's novels the women in this novel are barely there. The women are wives, or mothers with little to any decision making ability. Poo! Poo! I might become a feminist one day if I keep reading about boring women. It was an okay novel if you like reading about partying and working class thai dudes getting drunk. Oh yeah and the ending is quite trope. One of the friends is a writer who has been forwarded some money to write a book, but at the end, the writer doesn't know what to possibly write about and then... an IDEA! Write about life with his friends. How novel! A novel of 510 pages in fact, which makes me wonder if Korbjitti was paid per page.

While out of chronological order, in terms of when I read them, I think Sightseeing by Rattuwat Lapcharoensap is more than worth mentioning. Lapcharaoensap's collection of short stories is by far one of the best english written pieces of Thai literature that I've come across. I highly recommend this book. The first story is quite amusing and presents a different perspective of the farang experience, and dealings with the west in a different light, with perhaps a hint of resentment. Let me hear it kids! That's right Schadenfreue!

The story; "Farangs," opens with a island thai boy. His mother has been jaded by the tourists that come through, with a fair amount of lineage, the boy's father was an army officer that stayed awhile then vamoosed. The mother's bitterness isn't a part of the boy's pysche who falls for an exotic american girl who, gasps, wears a budweiser bikini. What a slut! The american girl has a fight with her boyfriend. The thai boy has a pig. She sees the bovine and loves the beast. The thai boy is smitten. The boy takes her on an elephant ride. He sees her boobs. They have dinner. He brings the pig. Her boyfriend comes along. "Oh I'm sorry about the isaan prostitute darling, it was all just fun and games." She forgives him. They walk on the beach. The thai boy scolds his misfortune and walks off to the beach. He climbs a tree and consoles his fate with his friend. The boyfriend and that budweiser thong come jaunting along the beach. They see the pig. The male goes on a hunting quest. Aghast the thai boy starts to throw hard mangoes at the stupid farang. The thai friend joins in. They hit the girl too. Well aimed! It was nice to read a story that had a go at some farang.

I enjoyed the story because of its different way of dealing with the West. Thai's normally deal with the West in a couple ways. In "The Ambiguous Allure of the West," a collection of essays on colonialism in Thailand, Thongchai Winichakul writes an excellent essay "Coming to Terms with the West: Intellectual strategies of Bifurcation and Post-Westernism in Siam." The title is long, and the essay excellent. Winichikaul describes the main ways in which the West has been dealt with. Winichakul states that Thais have dealt with the West in a way that has created an almost Manichean division between Thainess and the West.
"Bifurcation is based on interlocking series of binaries that now dominate much public discourse.

West Vs Thai
Other Vs Self
Worldly/material vs Spiritual, religious, moral
Outside/outer vs Inside/Inner
Decadent vs Pure
Public, work vs Private Family life
(p.139 Coming to Terms with the West)

The sense of Thai idenity (kwaambpenthai), Thainess, is a crucial aspect of Thailand and this sense of being is oft created in opposition to other identities. Winichakul points this out in his excellent "Siam Mapped," the daily morning radio programs that talk about what is wrong with other countries, and juxtapose it with how good Thailand is. The problems of other countries are evil while Thailand is good.

Winichakul marks the influence of the West, and the lack thereof on the academy. The author hilariously points out the disappointments of Thailand never having been colonized. An extended quote is worth reading:

While Thais are proud of never having been colonized and of not requiring a European tongue as their second language, the effects of the language barrier on Thai scholarship have rarely been considered. It is certainly politically incorrect in Thailand, and probably even a taboo among Thais, to suggest that Siam may have suffered any negative consequences from not having been colonized. However one negative effect has been a greater limitation of the flow of scholarship between European and Thai languages than in formerly colonized countries, simply because there is a smaller number of scholars on both sides of the Thai-Western relationship who are linguistically skilled enough to facilitate the cross-border flow of scholarship as translators, interpreters, or most importantly , as intellectual interlocutors (p. 147 Coming to terms with the West Thongchai Winichakul).

Hilarious! I would be better read in Thai literature if only Thailand had been colonized, aw schucks!

While keeping in the country I read "Bangkok Pool Blues" a short look at the BKK pool scene by Tom Crowley. Its quite good and gives a quick glimpse at the subculture. It also has a few short looks at some of the characters in the scene. Its quite good and succinct.

I've continued on my noir track in general with "L.A. Confidential," by James Ellroy. I've seen the excellent movie starring Guy Pearce, Rusell Crowe, and Kevin Spacey. The convoluted plot follows the careers of three detectives, a thuggish cop, a goody goody, and a third who is quite fond of drugs and scandal sheets. Ellroy's writing style annoyed me at first. It comes across as almost stream of consciousness. The short sentences are brief and non-attached. The narrative was long and complex. It wasn't especially good but it was good to read as I took in during my extended vacation in koh samui.

The most recent book I've read was much better. Iain Banks "The Wasp Factory," is the second novel I've read by the sci fi author, although this novel, his first, is not science fiction. The first person narrative is told from the perspective of a young man, about seventeen years old, stuck on an island in scotland. He's had some sort of accident when he was young and now spends his time blowing up shit and having imaginary battles around his home. While he was growing up into a hyper violent young man he killed three people, according to him though it was just a phase. The story is driven by the arrival of his brother, who went mad.

The older sibling went crazy as he worked at a laboratory during med school. The older brother was taking care of some children in a hospital late at night. Many of the youths were just born and had deformities. The brother was having difficulty feeding one. The baby giggled and looked at him stupidly. The child had a plate on his head for some reason. A fly came out of the plate. The brother lifted the plate and saw, gasp, a handful of maggots that were laying in wait to be born into flies. The brother went mad.

The story is a bildsungroman highlights both ritual, gender, and the awesome aspects of the grotesque. Its a tight ass book focusing on a young killer.

Speaking of kilers I've read a couple of the Dexter series, out of order. The books by Jeff Lindsay are easy pulpy reads which are not nearly as good as the television series. The books are still quite fun to read. I wouldn't recommend them that much.

Along with all the reading I've also been watching a fair amount of tv series and movies. Notable recent watches have been Suckerpunch, which sucked. There were hardly any boobs in it. A lot of violence, mainly cgi. It was meh.

I saw Rango. It was quite cute.

Finally I've been watching Mad Men. Its excellent, and mainly looks at white people's dealings with gender. Of course the class background is quite important and goes largely unspoken as does the relations between people. The show gains its poignancy by what goes unsaid. It'd probably be easy for some hack academic looking for their master's degree to write about the show and Hollywood's portrayal of gender.

Hopefully I'll do more reading while I'm here, once I remember what words mean.

The Rain

The Don Muang airport is in the north bangkok. The airport is run down. It was built in the early part of the 1900s. It closed for a short time when Suvarnbhmi opened in 2006, but you couldn't tell. The decor is at least thirty years too old. The seats are well worn. A thousand people have sat on the pieces of plastic wearing in grooves.

I purused the books in the small book store by the boarding gates. Oddly the majority of them were Gay and lesbian themed academic novels. One book contained lesbian erotica. I flipped through the pages. It seemed very emotional.

"That plane doesn't look like it will crash," She said as we walked out to the plane. The twin engine passenger plane was large, and weathered like the airport it serviced. We boarded the plane and I opened my book.The flight to Surat Thani was short. Airplane rides in Thailand take an hour, an hour and a half. Its doesn't matter where to. Its always about an hour. I read the novel for a while and then nodded off. My thoughts looping over and over imagining the plane's engine falling off. We would crash into the ocean and drown. I woke up when the plane landed.

We took an hour long bus ride to the ferry building. The seats were filled when we got on the bus so we took the first two empty seats. The upholstery was threadbare. I sat down. The rain leaked onto the seat. The sky had opened up and the rain was falling regularly.

"Its supposed to rain all weekend," she said. "I read the weather report."



"I don't care, it will be fun. I've never been to koh samui before and it will be nice just to go somewhere with you," I replied.

Her mouth smiled slowly. I could see her teeth.

The bus stopped at a ferry building. The boat wouldn't come for an hour. We ate over priced sandwhiches and fried rice. Hers had egg in it. The small cafeteria filled with backpackers. Their whispy beards and repulsive fashion filled the room. I wanted to leave. The ferry came. We got walked over a wobbly plank onto the the boat. The rain made the plank slick. It shook as I walked across it. We went down below.

She sat next beside me. "Every time I travel I sleep the entire way," she said.

She leaned her head against me. The boat bobbed up and down with the movement of the waves. I looked out the window. The water kept falling from the sky. The bay of Thailand's surface rippled.

We arrived and took a mini van to the hotel. We were shown our room. It was large with a hot tub. The next night we sat in the tub. The jets bubbled the water. The rain outside continued. We drank white wine.

We checked out of our luxiorous hotel and sat near the beach. She made a phone call. She looked at me.

"The ferry has been shut down, the road from the ferry has flooded. What do you want to do? If we take a plane from the airport on the island it will cost an extra 4,400 baht."

"We should take the plane. Its less of a gamble," I said. The showers had picked up in intensity and fequency. The downpour was harder. We sat underneath a villa watching the ocean rise. The ocean water was a dirty brown. She saw me look at it.

"Normally the water is clear and green," She said. She hung up the phone. "I booked us a flight for wednesday."

Two more days. We watched Mad Men in the room. I heard saw flashes of light outside. The crash of thunder boomed. I wondered what happened when lightning struck the surface. We took a cab the next day. It cost an extra hundred baht to go to Chaewaeng beach, the main tourist area. The main road was flooded. The roads we went down were brimming with water. Several motorbikes tried to get through. They were water logged. The cars that passed on the street looked less like automobiles and more like boats. They pushed water to the side as they came down the street. I felt the water shake our taxi. It was like being on the ferry again.

We arrived at Xin city in the downtown area. We moved into our room. We unpacked. The rain continued. We got food. We went to bed. The morning brought continuing rain. She called the airport. Our flight had been canceled. All the flights for the day had been canceled.

"All the flights have been canceled. What should we do," she asked me. I looked at her from the bed.

"Let's go to sleep," I said. Outside the water levels rose slowly rising. I wondered if and when they would reach our hotel room. We were on the third floor. Houses on the other islands had been washed away.

"Well have to stay two more days," she told me when I woke up. I nodded. I went to the bathroom. The faucet didn't work. "The power is out."

I looked out the window. Still the rain came down. It changed from a heavy storm to a light drizzle then it would drench the land again. A few people tried to navigate through the water. I looked at them. Their thin ponchos barely protected them.



A half an hour later the Hotel's generator came on. The lights worked, the internet didn't. We walked through the streets. The water came up to my shin, almost to her knees. We waded down the main thorough fare. I thought of Gene Kelley tapping his feet on the sidewalk of Koh Samui.



A note came under our door the next morning. The hotel wouldn't run its generator the entire time as gas on the island had run out. I wondered if we should ration our money. The atms weren't working. I thought about how I should have spent my last few years in a survivalist cult instead of doing muay thai. I looked at her. If it wasn't for the sport I wouldn't be here.

"Its like the world is ending," she said.

"The world has been ending for a long time," I replied.

"Next year is 2012. Sometimes I hope the world ends. Its not supposed to be raining this time of year," she said. She reached her hand out the hotel room door and felt the rain drizzle on her hand.

I took her wet hand and squeezed it. I imagined Gene Kelley and a thousand back up dancers doing synchronized swimming after a tsunami. Fires would burn on broken houses at the highlight, the aftermath of the show would be radiation leaks causing tumors in the spectators.

"Maybe it will end today, maybe it will end tomorrow, arai ga dai," I told her.

The rain continued.

Huevos Rancheros- La Monitas Bangkok!

My friend El Chavo contributed a guest article! Here it is:

Huevos Rancheros Thai Style! -La Monitas Bangkok!


Its not often I get out of the L.A. area. Other parts of the world scare me. I feel comfortable in the pollution and heat of my wonderful City of Angels, but recently I had some business to attend to in the other City of Angels, Bangkok.

At first I was quite nervous, the long lines at the airport to get my visa stamped did not bode well for this cholo. Luckily they excepted my fake passport, us Latinos sure do know how to forge documents.

It wasn't long until I felt quite at home in the city. Its just as polluted and dirty as at home, and just as hot. It was like being in my garbage can back in the states but without as many awful gringos making my life a mess.

There's even quaint things about it that give it a little more appeal than my city, like the cockroaches that run along the street or the mass tangle of telephone wires that line the roads. These little items really give Bangkok an exotic appeal.

I went out to a meeting, I know, I know, what was I doing at a meeting at the Foreign Correspondent's Club where I was bored to death by some German guy who talked to fast about his new book. Luckily before I fainted my friend took me to La Monita's which is reputedly the best Mexican food in Thailand.

I got to the restaurant which is right near the sky train at Ploen Chit. We walked in and looked over the menu. Bam right there glaring at me was my favorite dish! Huevos Rancheros. How could I say no!?

My friends and I waited shortly for the waitress to come over. I was sorely disappointed that we had to pay for our chips and salsa but marked it up to cultural differences.

My exotic Thai friend asked me "How do you eat that?"
I replied, "Well with Mexican food you just dig in."

I did a little digging and saw that tortilla was one of those cheap ones you buy at the grocery store and it wasn't even fried! The eggs were pretty weird looking, like something you might see on a Denny's menu and then the artificial looking eggs were right in front of me. The beans were okay, and I was glad that it wasn't slathered in cheese. The red sauce wasn't really red but rather their take on it. It tasted more like a regular salsa. The rice wasn't as spicy as I like it but still quite good. The dish cost about 200 baht which is about $6 or $7. my friend got a torta sandwhich which since he has a vegan eating disorder was mainly rice and beans.
Oops looks like my friend took a bite before I could snap a picture, or maybe it was those Thai cockroaches.
Here I am in my new barrell that my Thai friends made for me! They're so hospitable!

Overall the dish was okay. It made me miss home and the good cheap Huevos Rancheros in Lincoln Heights. My friend did tell me about a place where you can get good burritos chimichanga style! Ay Carumba!

888/26 มหาทุนพลาซ่า เพลินจิต ปทุมวัน
888/26 Mahatun Plaza, Ploenchit Road, Patumwan Bangkok กรุงเทพมหานคร 10330

Bad Romance

"Nakano," I said, pulling on the lanky Japanese man's shirt. "Nakano."
"Wass," he replied. He kept his attention focused in front of him. The rottweiler mutt, Gleo trotted alongside of our small group of boxers.
"I don't want to go jogging anymore."
"Wass?"
"I don't want to go jogging anymore," I said with a sigh. "I hate jogging."
"Me too," he replied with a laugh. "No more jogging!" He raised his fist against the enemies of our condition.
Apisat and Apisit, twin brothers at Sitmonchai began jogging down the Thamaka road. Nakano followed. I groaned and pursued.
We came back to the gym after our 12 kilometer run down the side streets of Thamaka in rural Kanchanaburi.
Upon returning to the Muay Thai camp we sat down on a bench.
"Nakano, Nakano," I said.
"Wass," he replied.
"I don't like Muay Thai anymore."
He laughed. "Me too."

My training here at Sitmonchai is coming to a close as my fight is on sunday. I am slated to fight a much smaller opponent as my original foe cut his finger somehow. Who knows the opponent might be changed last minute again. I'm excited about having training being over with because I am getting burned out on it. In lieu of training this afternoon I have opted to watch Rocky montage's. Until then myself and Muay Thai are having a bad romance.

Click here for the original.

ความเป็น American

The jeep was packed as it shuttled us to the disco in Kanchanaburi.
"I don't understand you Americans," she said, her indian accent making her statement resonate in the vehicle.
"We have to vie for supremacy. If there is more than one American in the room we fight each other for who can be the real representative of our grandious nation," I replied.
"Fuck, I would be a better representative for America than you," the australian replied. "She would too and she's from south east asia."
"Shut the fuck up before I bomb your country. I'll bomb all your stupid countries. Pricks," I replied.

Graham Greene's "The Quiet American," begins with the death of an American. Greene through his narrator, Thomas Fowler, a British jaded journalist reaching his 50s with a paunch to match, describes the character of the American and how he ended up being... Marrrdeerrred. The american, Pyle, is an idealist who has taken hold of the writings of York Harding, some sort of democratic ideologue who has spent little time in Vietnam where the novel is set. Fowler lives with his lover, a young vietnamese woman named Phuong covering the French war when Pyle arrives on scene. Fowler is realistic about the battle between the nations and uninvolved. Pyle however, being the young idealist that he is, believes in neither the colonialist answer of the French nor in the communism of the asian country he is rather beguiled by the idea of a "third force," which when operational would be more easily maneuvered by the U.S.

While ideologically different, the two also battle over the love/company of Phuong. The 20 year old woman's character is never fleshed out with her decisions being made by her older sister whom is primarily interested in her being married off. She is depicted by Fowler as a woman who seeks security, while Pyle believes that she is a beautiful flower in need of saving. Phuong, herself, speaks little and when she does it is only to ask if Fowler would like his opium pipe filled, or to recount her trip to the movies.

The basic narrative structure reminded me of Greene's other work that I've read recently; "May I borrow your Husband?" In the short story the narrator, who again is a writer, is holidaying by the Mediterranean sea. The hotel he is staying is visited upon initially by a gay couple, and then a newly wed couple. The gay couple swoop on the groom. While the narrator is smitten with the bride, Poopy, he never mobilizes his feelings for her and she remains in innocent oblivion of the sexual change that is occurring in her husband. Where the stories are similar is in the taking of a partner. In "May I borrow your Husband," it is the groom whom is being taken by a gay couple, whereas in the "Quiet American," it is the exotic Phuong being stolen by the idealistic American.

The novel has twice been made into a movie, once with Michael Caine, in 2002 and initially in 1958. The writing is easy with Greene's literary style being simplistic and sparse. The action is steady and its easy to empathize with Fowler and see Pyle as being a delusional twat.

Being overseas I've encountered a slew of internationals, and other ex pats. I've met more Swedes than the small country would seem to have yet few Americans, it seems like we don't travel that much. It is always interesting hearing what others think of my noble nation of birth. It makes me wonder if there is something essential, some inherent qualities or traits of Americans.

Evidently the book recieved good press in Britain but Americans didn't much like it considering its poor depiction of them. Maybe the British were right...?

Do what?

Things here at Sitmonchai are progressing as they do. I've been training regularly sans two sessions in which I was too sleepy to attend. This valentine's day one of the fighters here had a bout. The fight was in a small town close to Thamaka and the entire crew packed into a mini van to go see the show. Ashima, the small Indian woman who fought, had her fight delayed by a couple hours because there was some confusion as to the actual date of the fight. Evidently her opponent thought it was going to be some other time. The fight was tented in by blue tarp erected on poles giving the venue a real classy feel. The fights were there primarily because of the festival in the wat next door.

The festival was far more titillating than the fights. A crew of guys and I went to the festival for a minute and we saw some extravagant costumes, a male elephant (he had a fucking gigantic dong), cheap wares, and a haunted house. The haunted house was pretty atrocious. As I walked through it people grabbed at my fight. I screamed with mock terror. A small kid who was about 7 or 8 wore a scary mask. He pointed at me and repeatedly said; "Where you from, Where you from. I love you. I love you." I probably should have taken him home with me and sold him into a child prostitution ring.

My fight date was changed to March 6th. I'm not fighting at Lumpinee anymore which is a bit of a bummer, but honestly I just want to fight and get it over with. Training is fun, but its also boring and tiring. I want to go on vacation again and hang out with my friends.

That said I have been trying to focus on fixing shit that I'm doing. I over rotate my hip when kicking which is something that I'm trying to consciously fix.

My trainer here "catches" blows which causes some confusion but also helps me develop my steez. I've been doing a lot of right kicks and left knee combinations which is fun. I plan on doing more knee style fighting/pad work in the coming weeks.

I've been writing a fair amount of letters, but haven't gotten as much regular story writing done as I'd like. Oh well. I'll be sure to get on the fiction though.

In the mean time here is a video of an Isaan singer lamenting how her boyfriend Johnny is going back to America.

That's not my name

Someone starts the cd and my worries begin. Its not from the shadow boxing. I don't fear the fight, I don't fear getting hurt, instead my phobia is of developing a Pavlovian response to the music. Just like a dog who rings a bell to get food and so loves bells I worry that this old mutt might turn into a fighting machine when The Tings Tings come on. My fists punch the air and I think about kneeing people. I imagine the dim lights of Lumpinee, the smell of menthol, the third man in the ring and my blows landing against my opponent as the lead singer screams "That's not my name!" When I get punched I can only envision myself kicking my opponent back in the arm repeatedly, screaming over and over and over again; "That's not my NAME! THAT'S NOT MY NAME!!!"



We play the same few cds over and over here at the gym which reinforces my actions to music. This can obviously be a good thing, like who doesn't get excited during the Rocky soundtrack, but the Ting Tings? Bummer.

I am slated to fight at Lumpinee on February 26th. Its in about 2 and a half weeks. I have to drop about four kilos which is the only thing that is haunting me. I hate cutting weight. I'm hoping to drop down to 68 or 69 kilos the week before the fight that way I only have to cut two or 3 kilos. Maybe if I quit eating all that fucking rice.

My time here at Sitmonchai has been enjoyable. I've been practicing my Thai a lot and of course have been tested several times on it. Unfortunately my version of Talay Jai is still somewhat stilted sounding. P' Ay yelled at me about it telling me to sing smoother. Unfortunately I'm no Carrabao. Soon though, soon.

Chimatli discovered another good hit with CarCrash International that is worth checking out.



I've also joined twitter on the suggestion of several friends out here. Twitter seems particularly good for news streaming. There is a constant run of information about the recent surge of activity on the Thai/Cambodian border. The conflict has been a rallying point for the nationalistic sect of the yellow shirts. It should be interesting to see what happens. There are rumors of a coming coup, but there are always rumors of coups out here.

I've been following Thai politics pretty closely out here which is interesting. There are a couple good sites I'd recommend:

Khi Kwaii

Bangkok pundit

New Mandala