A Bowl of Stupid

Wanting to take full advantage of being back in the big city before I head out once again into the wilderness, I've just returned from my second trip to the movie theatre in as many days — this time I saw the new Hellboy II - The Golden Army film.

Remember how I JUST got done talkin' smack about the new Batman/Dark Knight film — saying how it lacked character and originality?

Well, after seeing the new Hellboy flick, I take it all back (or at least some of it).

Hoeee-leeey crap, did that Hellboy movie suck balls — big, red, demonic, monster balls, to be precise. Man, I don't know what the mouth breathing knuckle-draggers who made THAT steaming pile of crap were thinking, but it sure wasn't about how to make a good movie.

Yeah, I know, I should've expected as much from a Hellboy sequal, but it was directed by Guillermo Del Toro and I thought the previews looked pretty good. Whatever …

Anyway, it sure did give me a new perspective on the new Batman film. Sure, being an 'okay' movie awash in a sea of garbage it's fairly akin to being the skinniest kid at fat camp — but I guess, at the end of the day, you're still getting laid more than the other tubbo's by comparason.

P.S. I liked Ranylt's comment to my prior post so much, I decided to take 10 minutes out of my extremely busy schedule and put my limited 'photoshopping' skills to work in making a Stuart Smalley Joker:

Sadly, it looks much too much like the real thing. And if anyone thinks they can do any better in 10 minutes, well, you can go suck it. Suck it long. And suck it hard.

Share This

Anyway, I'm back home in Bangkok.

I mentioned in a comment over at TK's place that one of the primary reasons I came back here (after getting a decent massage or 10) was to see the new Batman / Dark Knight movie.

I'm an admitted comic book/movie junkie; I think Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Heath Ledger, Gary Oldman, Aaron Eckhart, and Morgan Freeman are ALL very talented actors; and of the popular comics, the Batman comic (whose protagonist has no 'super powers' beyond being a multi-billionaire) is one that is most grounded in reality. Moreover, just about everyone I've read, spoken to, etc., has said the movie was absolutely the best comic movie they've ever seen.

Sounds promising, right?

Umm … yeah, not so much. It ain't all that.

I really don't get it. I saw the movie last night on the gihugent IMAX screen over at Siam Square, and while the cinematography was grande (which may be simply be explained by the 16 meter high screen), the rest of the movie was remarkably … dull.

Yes, the acting was decent, yes, Ledger portrayed Jack Nicholson the Joker very well, yes, the special effects were what we've all come to expect from big budget Hollywood films. But holy fuck people, come ON!! At the end of the day, it's just Blue Steel!!

They're just rehashing all the same ol' shit. A little bit of Sin City here, a bit of Batman Begins there, a sprinkling of Steven King there, then add in some Beetlejuice makeup and Spider Man-esque special effects for flavour — and boom, instant blockbuster.

Much has been said about how 'dark and sinister' this film is — which sets it apart from all the other comic book adaptions. But again … c'mon, it's BATMAN. The tone of this film owes more to Frank Miller — who single-handedly reintroduced Batman as the now familiar psychologically dark character — than to the present cast and crew. Indeed, Miller's portrayal of Batman as a dark and compulsive figure has dominated most later Batman projects to at least some degree, including the 1989 Batman film.

Moreover, critics said the same thing about the story's 'new, darker version' when disecting Batman Begins ("In "Batman Begins," director Christopher Nolan gets back to a deeper, darker vision of the Caped Crusader") — simply because they both followed the campy, money-driven silliness into which the earlier Batman films had devolved.

For me, the Dark Knight wasn't 'darker' and more sinister. it was simply longer and duller — proving that no matter no much 'mood' a movie tries to shove down your throat, they're still no replacing a solid script and honest, beleivable characters.

Granted, it was an 'okay' movie, but it doesn't hold a candle (no pun intended) to any one of a plethora of darker, more comprehensive 'dark' film noir adaptations — One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, The Shining, and the first Batman movie, to name just a few (and yes, there's a reason I chose all Nicholson films).

Hell, even Superman 3 had Richard Pryor in it. All I got for bad acting and funny faces in The Dark Knight was Maggie Gyllenhaal. On the bright side, at least she caught on fire, too.

Yeah, this turned more into a movie review than a simple rant. Sorry about that, from now on I'll leave that shit to the professionals — they can tell the difference between Blue Steel and Magnum (oh my, it's glorious).

Share This

Those of you who know me personally (and possibly others who are only familiar with my writing) are probably well aware that I never acknowledge — and indeed, often disparage — my personal happiness, lest the karmic fates learn of my condition and decide to wrench that happiness out of my grubby little mitts.

This is perhaps my number one defense mechanism (the other being my need to distance myself from anyone showing the slightest interest in me … but that's for another therepy session).

Regardless, despite all the bitterness and despair I project to dispel the fates, I hope noone believes — nor forgets — that I am not actually well aware of just how ridiculously lucky, how unfathomably fortunate I am to be leading the life I am.

I say this for a wide variety of reasons — including, without limitation, because I was fortunate enough to be born into middle-class America, and was raised in an uncompromisingly loving family, and received an extensive education (sans spelling, of course), and have the ability to travel the globe as I now do, and have met all the wonderful people I have.

So to those persons who think I am bitter and cynical and mean, and I have forsaken all the gifts provided to me — I am sorry for projecting that impression, for it is a lie. I truly appreciate every last gift in my life … I simply refuse to acknowledge them openly, for a variety of reasons.

Indeed, even were I still living in Miami working the 8 to 6 grind, I would still be just THAT fortunate, if for nothing else than because I am healthy, and my family is healthy (although there still was a great deal more).

And this brings me to the underlying reason why I now acknowledge the greatness the fortunes have provided (and which I hope they will continue to, despite my having admitted it openly) — my friend Jill and her family … again.

Just days after burying her mother, Jill and her family are now faced with the prospect of her brother Craig, who, it now appears, may soon succomb to his own cancer in the coming weeks/months. And unfortunately making the situation even less tolerable, Craig is also suffering immensely from his cancer.

I know I've written about Jill and Craig and her family before, but … just … fuck. I really haven't the words to describe all my hopes and fears and empathy and feelings for them. So instead, I'll simply acknowledge the fortunes with which I have been blessed, and wait for some of those same fortunes to work their way towards them.

Share This

Taking a brief moment from responding to the emails I received while I was out "gone surfin" last month, I wanted to address a problem that's arisen in conjunction with my maintaining this blog — essentially this:

One of the main reasons I continued this blog once I started traveling was to provide some 'on the ground' guidance to others who may also be interested in the future in taking the same, or similar, trips as I have. I know I could have benefited from some of the information I've posted up on this site, and I wanted to 'pay it forward' … such as it is.

Truly, I've been able to live out the initial dream I had when I left the States, the dream of surfing waves that look EXACTLY like (or even better) than the break shown in the header of this blog — it is a gift for which I am eternally grateful.

However, I've also bitched — also on the blog (and elsewhere) — about the sheer number of 'surf-tourists' I've had to contend with in previously little known surf spots throughout Southeast Asia. Indeed, as has been pointed out, I myself am one of them — albeit in attendance at such spots for longer periods of time than some others (in all honesty, one of the biggest problems we 'surf-tourists' face are uber-rich surfers — mostly from America — who can afford to take 2-3 weeks out and pay thousands and thousands of U.S. dollars to charter boats, or stay in luxiurious resorts, or even buy property to use for 3 weeks a year. All this while we, the reletively 'under-funded' stay for months on end in modest surroundings, simply trying to find some good uncrowded surf-breaks.

It's a bit of a connundrum — how to repay the locals and others who helped me to obtain the gift of riding such great waves, while also not making all these great breaks super-crowded and not being a complete dickhead by 'hiding' such breaks for fear they too will be ruined next surf season for the uber-rich (or even the not so uber-rich).

It's for that reason that I've decided to do what I never thought I'd do (and never wanted to do) — I'm going to start censoring the information I write on this blog. Oh, don't worry, I'll write privately whatever notes I feel I need to remind myself about various breaks and spots I visit. But I'll no longer be making them public.

Sorry guys, but I'm done giving out this type of information when all it does is make the breaks more crowded for me (and the small number of other guys who choose to 'explore'). Yeah, I'll probably write a bit about the Philippines, since I already wrote about them last year. But once I head out into the Pacific — you're on you're own.

I know it sounds like a really dickhead move (and it probably is), but from now on, go find your own break … keep it off my wave.

Share This

(Me - jalan-jalanning in Nembralla)

Continuing with my lazy-ass attempt to reply to the few people who still actually read — or, more likely, inadvertently stumble upon — this blog, I offer the following emails, and my responses:

'Drew' wrote, asking:

"What doe the tattoo on your back mean? Where did you get it from??"

The tattoo is written in Tibetian Sanscrit, and it means "Oh Mani Padme Hum' — you can go check out this website for a more complete description/meaning (cuz frankly, as has been previously established, I'm just too lazy). I got the tattoo in a shop in South Miami Beach (I think on the corner of Washington and 7th street).

Rhonda from the blog 'Smashed Ham Sandwiches' (whatever the hell that means) wrote, in part:

Funny thing, I have a "Bowl of Stupid" on my page. Not nearly as interesting as yours. I ran across the saying on a t-shirt somewhere a few years back and it has stuck with me as one of my favorites ever since. …I have to admit I can admire a man that is so adventurous, such as yourself.

Actually, I just wrote the good part, she kinda tore me a new asshole — something about my plagerizing from T.V. shows or something… Nah, I'm kidding, Rhonda was quite nice — go check out her blog when you get the chance. And thanks Phonda, I'm sure you'll make it out of Michigan some day. If you choose to head out this way and have any questions, feel free to ask me.

And finally (for now), I got this email several weeks ago from Kevin in Australia (with my answers to his 'several' questions in bold):

How's things? I found your blog when looking for information about krui. Some good reading there. Very jealous of your travels. I've thrown in the job a couple of times myself but only made it a year a time… but then the need for stabilty kicks in and I find myself back in normal life. Anyway, I'm off to krui on Friday. Have got my flight booked to Jakarta but that's about all. Would appreciate your help with some questions if you have the time.

Did you prebook your flight to bandar lampung? No, I bought a ticket from the Merpati office in the Jakarta airport. It's about the same price as pre-booking, and you don't have to worry about missing connecting flight, etc. which airline did you go with? Merpati Airlines — unless Adam Air is back up and running, they're the only gig in town. Any recommendation for an airport hotel for the Jakarta stopover? Yeah, the airport hotel — granted, it's US$100/night, but after board storage, taxi rides, the 45-60 minutes in and back to town, the cost of hotels in town themselves, and other general shit, it's really worth the money not to deal with the hastle. You walk 30 meters from one gate to the hotel, then another 40 meters to the Merpati counter.

How much cash would you recommend changing for a week in Krui? Actually, don't recommend changing ANY cash. I would reccomend getting around 3 million rupiah from an ATM in Bandar Lampung (not including cost of transport to/back from Krui itself). figure I will head to a main town once a week to stock up on supplies and cash. Do it right afte rflight, since Bandar Lampung is the only town with a working ATM, western-style markets, etc. for 4-5 hour in any direction from Krui — so there you go.

What were your favourite breaks? Karang Nymbor ad Drew's Right. I'm a bit worried about hitting the reef… is it generally deep enough to avoid injury if one gumbies the takeoff? Dude, I can't answer that — if you're surfing a reef break, you ALWAYS need to watch out. It's not Desert Point, G-Land, or Pipe … but it's a big clumps of living rock .. and hitting that pretty much always hurts (from what I've heard - I obviously am way to skilled to ever have gotten scraped up on a reef … ahem).

Kev, I'm sorry about the late response, I was in Rote with no internet for a month, and then when I got back home to Bangkok, I had to deal with some personal stuff (including wrestling my new surfboard back from the airlines), then I had a friend visiting from out of town, and finally, I had some prior appointments with a 'relaxation therepist' that I needed to attend to.

I'm guessing you're already IN Krui area by now, so my answers my not be of any help. Sorry. But if you are there, and you happen to run in to some Scottish guy named Malcolm (he's not actually Scottish, I just like messing with him), tell him I said 'hey.' Hope you're getting some tasty waves. Cheers, mate.

Share This

As noted a couple posts ago (while I was in Bali en route from Nusa Tenggara back home to Bangkok), I found a plethora of emails waiting for me upon my arrival to the wonderful world of indoor plumbing — some were asking how I'm doing, others were asking for travel advise, and still another was just hatin' on my blog in general.

I'll try my best to fully address each of these emails in due time. But I'll start with the last of them — which I just got from a guy (or girl … or potentially both) named 'Pat,' who wrote:

I read your blog from December 13, 2006 in which you discuss morality and responsibility. I find it ironic that your decided to discuss such issues while plagiarizing the work of others.

Your comment that related to occupying moral safe houses was taken practically word for word from the West Wing show - "No one in government takes responsibility for anything any more. We foster, we obfuscate, we rationalize. 'Everybody does it.' That's what we say. So we come to occupy a moral safe house where everyone's to blame so no one's guilty.". Granted you did take out "in government" so maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

If you decide to write a blog on the subject of hypocrisy, please let me know.

Well Pat, here it is …

Ignoring the fact that you're getting worked up about what some ex-pat surf-bum is spewing out on his BLOG, … on the INTERNET — you're absolutely right … I 'borrowed extensively' (okay, 'stole') from a West Wing transcript.

Big fucking deal.

I've no secrets here — I've admitted that I steal from the West Wing — and many other sources — on a regular basis. Fuck, if you haven't noticed, most of my post titles come from song titles. But c'mon, kid, unless you were on the writing staff, getting worked up about my failure to specifically cite back to a now-defunct television series is just silly.

And d'ya wanna see something else? I'll do it again … right now:

Quoting verbatim from the same T.V. show, Aaron Sorkin wrote that: "Good writers borrow, and great writers steal." (it bears noting this particular quote is one which Sorkin himself stole — from T.S. Elliot.)

Admittedly, you're also correct about the context of the original quote, and that by now equating myself with others who do the same thing, this quote is itself … it's, well … yeah, it's pretty hypocritical. But I think you're missing Elliot's (and Sorkin's … and my) point.

It's the sign of a good writer (or, in Elliott's opinion, a great one) to recognize that, when trying to aptly communicate your thoughts, someone else has already written what you're thinking (albeit, in my case, in another context) … far, far better than you could ever do. And I would fail to do justice to anyone reading my dribble NOT to use such rhetoric.

This is a philosophical issue, I think. Truly, is there ANYTHING we've access to — in literature, technology, or otherwise — that hasn't already been thought of, described, or built by someone else? Everything we've got, our entire culture is based on the prior accomplishments of others.

So, in this case, I forgot to cite. Again, it's just a blog — get a grip. Regardless, thanks for writing, and I hope you keep reading — I need someone to keep me on my toes.

Share This

(Rote, Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia)

Okay, I put up on my Flickr Account the first batch of new picture from Rote, for those of you that still give a crap (which pretty much comes down to Manny and the other random stragglers that accuse me of plagiarism … on the Internet! — don't worry I'll get to that …).

I'm leaving Bali in the next couple hours back through Jakarta, and then back to Bangkok later tonight. Home sweet home … such as it is.

I'll be there a couple of weeks before leaving for the Philippines … at this point, probably for the remainder of the summer. We'll see how it goes, right?

Finally, for everyone that wrote to me (both publicly and privately) during the last few weeks while I was away, I plan on doing a 'group response post' — addressing each of the comments, suggestions, compliments, and, in one case, an interesting 'call out' on some television script writing I 'borrowed' from (ahem) about 200 months back.

To all of you (including you, Pat), thanks for taking notice, and hopefully I'll give y'all something else good to get pissed off about soon enough. Until then, just chill out and take a look at the photos from Rote (which I ALSO stole … hahahaha!).

Share This

There's an interesting subtext — a conundrum — underlying this whole 'blogging' business.

For me, blogging began as an attempt to capitalize on my interest in the Internet (read: 'computer geek') — through the use of online advertising and retail. That idea went the way of the dodo when I made the decision to abandon the capitalistic American existence for a few years, in favor of a more simplistic life in the tropics of Southeast Asia.

At that point, blogging essentially morphed into nothing more than an easy way to memorialize my trip — physically and emotionally — and maybe make available some information about the places I'm visiting, mainly for myself, my friends and family, and anyone else with an Internet connection and a shit-load of free time on their hands.

Unknowingly (and unintentionally), this blog has also become useful in another way. When meeting people abroad, rather than handling out my phone number, email address, or other typical contact information, it's infinitely easier to write or tell people to look up my website.

In my case, I'm not sure if they feel it's an accurate description of me (the most likely scenario) or what, but the name of this blog tends to stick in peoples heads like a dull butter knife.

This is obviously a good thing. It's easily allowed me to maintain contact with people I've met from all around the globe (most of them Swedish, for some god-forsaken reason). However, it also allows a greater, albeit not complete, view of my persona to people who may not otherwise get an unfettered glimpse of my full persona until later on into a friendship.

It is for that reason more than any other that I've changed how I write this blog.

Before I revealed my true identity (yes, I am a fuckin' superhero - so shaddap) and started using this site as my own 'Universal Business Card' ("Call me!"), I tended to write bitter and scathing posts about politics, pop culture, celebrities, and a number of other divisive issues.

But I've since tried to tone down the content of this blog, so as not to offend any of the people I've met, or may meet, either with different views than mine or otherwise infected by the 'politically correctness' dictating the terms of conversations with people from the States and Europe.

Indeed, I've already had one acquaintance ask me, upon reading this site, why I hated India (and Indians) so much. After pointing out the dirty hippy's and the innumerable burning trash heaps, as well as the debilitating viral infection I picked up there, I found myself apologizing (and feeling guilty for appearing as yet another Eurocentric racist). The same goes for many other issues, as well — even music.

In trying to tone down my vacuously sardonic sense of humour (admittedly, a humour that quickly wears thin and most persons with an IQ greater than 70 don't understand to begin with), I've wound up unintentionally offending, and being overly-apologetic towards, more people than I otherwise would, because I've unknowingly disregarded their political sensitivities — both online and in the real world.

Who knows, maybe I've just been hanging out with too many Ozzies. Whatever.

While talking the other night with a friend (coincidentally, yet another Swede — I swear, they're everywhere), we got to the whole topic of maintaining a blog. Somewhere during the course of the conversation, I remembered how the word 'blog' is the shortened version of the term 'web log' — as in a personal log … about your personal ideas, experiences, and relations.

In that regard, unless they're selling something (ahem), if someone feels comfortable enough to post all their personal shit online anyway, what's the point in censoring material to possibly placate the sensibilities of people who won't understand the verse, or the underlying motivations. Admittedly, we do not live in a vacuum, and it's simply good manners not to knowingly offend people — 'do unto others' and all that.

I agree with that sentiment entirely, and I sincerely try to live my life in that manner. But there are limits — especially in the context of writing your personal thoughts vis a vis a semi-private forum on the Internet.

With that said, I will say this one more time for anyone paying attention — I've got some fucked up personal views, I live a different kind of life than most, and I have some brash and (often times unfunny) humour. I know I'm not a racist, a misogynist, or an evil vapid soul (most nobody is, really). But I will apologize up front if anything I say may come across as offensive or insensitive.

I'm writing this shit for me as much as for you. So I will write how, when, and about, whatever-the-fuck I want. Just as I really don't know you, you really can't know me simply by reading the stupid, random shit I may throw up on some website from time to time.

I know I've raised this issue before in the past, whenever I lose track of why I'm even writing this shit. But once again, it's my fucking website, and I thought it was about time for another reminder.

P.S. This is the maid speaking.

Share This

Well now, I know it's fairly irrelevant considering I'm presently between careers and I'm not lacking for free time and everything, but this just sucks.

I just wasted the last 2 hours of my life writing a nice, long detailed post about some of the areas of Bangkok of interest to anyone who ever wishes to make it off the backpacker-tourist infested Thanon Khao San (Khao San Road), or otherwise escape from Bangkok's standard 'tourist' destinations.

Seriously, I spent all that time describing the Phyathai area of Bangkok where I'm currently living, and about the Sukhumvit area where most of the 'falang' ex-pats live, as well as some of the restaurants, bars, and coffeehouses in those and other areas I've been able to explore as an official 'ex-pat' resident.

But goddamn it if Wordpress didn't delete the shit before … no, not before, WHILE I was trying to save it.

So, for all of you who were honestly interested about getting around via the BTS line, and the unique Thai jazz scene up around Victory Monument, or finding a good local coffeehouse with free Wi-Fi, or about the best places for a private foot massage — y'all can just go lodge your complaints with the fuckers who designed this application.

Cuz I ain't rewriting that shit out again without a court order … or at least another 1-2 pots of coffee.

Share This

Nota Bene: I struggled with publicly posting this long and somewhat contemplative entry because I don't wish to convey to my friends, family, and/or other readers that I'm in any way depressed, because I'm not. To the contrary, I am settling in here in Bangkok quite nicely. However, I wrote this back in India to pass the time whilst confined to my hotel bed in the final throes of the Dengue Fever. I wasn't feeling quite as 'upbeat' then (although I was, ironically, listening to the same U2 song as in my last post). So I'm posting it, confident others will understand, as I do, that context is everything.

I honestly don't know where to begin, or where I'm going with, this post. I really don't. I'm still a bit fevered still, so I guess I'll just have to talk (or write) it through.

With so much time on my hands lately (see post re: Dengue Fever), after sifting through too many books and movies to even recall, I find myself now at a point where I can do nothing more than lay in bed, listen to my music, and think. It reminds me of how I used to pass the time when I was in high school.

Now, most of my thoughts rifle through memories of the people I've met, the places I've seen, and the things I've done throughout my adult life. For some reason, most of my thoughts begin by centralizing around old friends and past girlfriends.

I use them as 'indicators', since I immediately relate certain friends and girlfriends with different chapters of my life — my formative years, high school, college, law school, working in California, living and working in Miami, and — most recently — my travels abroad.

And then I get distracted, lost even, in recollections about the smaller subplots during those times that gave each of these larger chapters their own particular context and flavour — the different jobs, cities, friends, lovers, hobbies, movies, and music.

When I was younger, this 'meditative recollection" used to be a truly enjoyable exercise. It gave me the opportunity to recall some remarkable things I had otherwise forgotten. However, as I've grown older, it's become more and more difficult to keep track of the ever increasing number of chapters — with more and more characters and subplots lost to time. The difficultly lies not only in the loss of time, but in the accompanying melancholy that comes with the realization I can no longer fully recall people and things which at one time meant so much.

It is for this reason that, while I do not condone, I understand those people who, despite not properly 'fitting' with their friends, spouses, or loved ones, choose to maintain such limited connections simply because it allows such people a greater, more immediate connection with their past. Peripherally, it also helps to limit the number of 'chapters' in their life — possibly to a more manageable level. The less chapters, the less likelihood of remembering JUST how old you are, and JUST how far away those lost years are.

I could of course be wrong, I mean, what the hell do I know?

Fortunately or unfortunately, I am not one of those people. I'm much more demanding and restless. And while this allows me to meet a greater number of people and visit a wider range of places, there's only so much time to maintain friendships … and there's only a limited amount of space in my brain to remember all of those lost years and friends.

No, I'm not trying to recreate my youth. But yes, I do miss it. Very much so.

I miss my youthful exuberance. I miss knowing the better part of my life is yet to come — set out in front of me as a fateful mystery. I miss my old friends. I miss my old girlfriends (even the selfish bitchy ones … okay, maybe not them so much), I miss my old toys — the motorcycles, the cars, the surfboards, the snowboards. And I miss my old homes — the apartments, condos, and houses, and the cities, states, and countries. I miss them all.

And while I'm still glad I had the time to have experience all of those things and I still eagerly look towards the future, I simultaneously curse time for wrenching my past away from me — without my having even noticed.

So that's what I'm doing now — I'm sitting here awake at 3 a.m. in a half-fevered stupor in some shithole in India, listening to U2's "A Sort of Homecoming", trying to think about all the great places I'm heading this summer, but instead lamenting over all of the friendships, places, and experiences I've lost to time.

I know I can't return to those times. And I know I can't recreate as they once existed the close friendships I had before everyone got married, and divorced, and had kids, and got re-married, and moved, and got new jobs, etc., etc. And yes, I am thankful for all of those glorious memories from my past.

But goddamn it, I really wish I could, just for a moment, go back 20 years to that time when I could hang out in my room listening to "An Unforgettable Fire" with my friends dreaming about everything still to come, laid out before us as a glorious mystery.

This just isn't quite the same.

Share This

Thanks everyone for your well-wishes. I'm feeling much better. Ironically, the rashes associated with dengue Fever showed up more heavily AFTER the fever itself receded away. No worries though, it's a small price to pay for regaining the ability to move without feeling immense bone-crushing pain.

Anyway, once again being able to move my arms and legs again with no pain (athough still pretty weak … well, weaker than usual), I took this opportunity to go over and visit Fort Cochin for the last 4 days I'm in India.

I actually really like it. It's still India … which means there's still crowding, and swarms of foriegn tourists, and piles of garbage, and packs of feral dogs, ridiculously greedy people, and burning trash everywhere. But at least fort Cochin has a really unique history to it. There's a unique blend of Dutch, Portugese, British, and Indian culture and history here. It kinda reminds me of southern Malaysia — only with more trash.

Regardless, it's a really unique place. And I mean, really, any place that has a neighborhood named "Jew Town" — sporting a 500 year old synogogue — can't be ALL bad, right?

Meanwhile, when I finally ge a moment to check my email, I find this fucked-up gem of a story from tommorows NY Times. Apparently, my buddy Chez (upon who's fantastic blog I initially based this bullshit upon), was fired from his gig at CNN for … writing a blog.

WTF?

As I've told Chez many, many, MANY times. Blogs and jobs don't go together. Just look at me, I have a blog and you don't see ME working, do ya'? Err … bad example.

Moing on … sorry 'bout the gig, my friend. fuck 'em, they're a bunch of heartless jackels. But we already knew that, didn't we? Just ask the guys from WTVJ.

Share This

[Welcome to India, man! And yes, that IS "Freedom Rock"!]

I promise this will be (among) the last of the derogatory comments I have about my visit to India so far. That being said …

I understand I cannot justifiably classify an entire country after having visited only a tiny portion thereof — especially one swarming with foreign tourists. Agreed. I mean, to do so would be akin to someone criticizing the entire United States after having visited only Las Vegas.

Err … forget that analogy, but you get the point.

But to those people (many whose opinions I truly do respect) that say I need to visit the 'real India' in order to understand 'the magic' of the country, I say bullshit. I have ventured out into the boonies and cities, and I say 'Bullshit.'

Yes, India IS a bit different from other countries. Yes, India DOES have a remarkable history. Yes, it DOES have some great food and an extremely diversified culture. But there are amazingly different things in just about EVERY country worldwide (for now that is, until Starbucks and McDonalds have completed their takeover of the Klingon Empire).

I don't want to come off as hating India — because I don't. Indeed, there are some very interesting aspects of Indian culture, and I don't think it's really ALL that bad here. However, this blog, by necessity, is a distillation of my recollections and experiences about my travels. I cannot write about everything I see. It's just not a practicality. Instead, I must write about those things which affect me the most … in the moment.

I write about what I 'get' from India as I experience it — the hippies, the crowding, the poverty, the misogynistic culture, the frantic pace, the greed. And these things … they're not for me. Indeed, I fled from many of these same things also existing back in the States. Only in the U.S., there was indoor plumbing and less air pollution (if you can believe that).

I will say this much, however: I HAVE learned some things about myself since my arrival here. Not from the country or its people, but in how other Westerners view them both. As one commentator here noted, there are a HUGE number of Westerners who have never visited India and have a romanticized idea of the country — believing the entire countryside is not strewn with garbage, and believing Indians are ALL spiritually enlightened.

Man, they're just people trying to get by. Just because they've got different religions and philosophies does NOT mean they're any closer to grasping the meaning of life (if any) than you are — especially the meaning of YOUR life, dipshit!

Yet many foreigners here seem to continually propagate that illusion — actively blinding themselves to the reality so they can justify their continued search for answers in a place they've seen romanticized in movies as the birthplace of 'spiritual enlightenment'. You can see it in how seriously they take themselves and the whole concept of 'India.' They've all seemingly forgotten that the minute you start believing your own bullshit is the minute you lose touch with the questions you initially sought to explain.

Ironically, I got a shot of this reality this morning seeing a funny quote on the side of one of the Starbucks cups used by a local coffee shop (not in violation of any copyright laws, I presume):

chances are you are scared of fictions.
chances are you are only fleetingly happy.
chances are you know much less than you think you do.
chances are you feel a little guilty
chances are you want people to lie to you.
perhaps the answer lies on the side of a coffee cup.
you are lost.”

-david cross
comedian, writer, actor

Indeed.

Share This

As mentioned in my immediately preceding blog post, I just booked a flight to the Philippines (Manila) for this coming Monday morning, where I plan to stay on an extended surfing tour for a month or so before heading further out into the Pacific.

No worries, right? Err, not so fast …

Everyone who booked their surf trip too early, please raise your hand.

I woke up this morning to see on Bloomberg News that Tropical Cyclone 'Mitag' is also scheduled to make landfall in Manila this coming Monday morning (where it too apparently will go surfing).

I've got only one thing to say about that …

Hold onto your hunting falcons, ladies, I think it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

Aww crap.

Share This

'The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let things upset you.'
-Bob Harris

I know who I am, … And I know what I want, …

And it was called yellow.

Share This