A Bowl of Stupid

Much as I did when I first arrived in Asia, I’ve started writing again freehand, often without any intent to publish here, but simply to clarify what’s going on upstairs. This is one of those posts. And while it is obviously melancholic (to say the least), take it with a grain of salt, and take it for what it is — simply a free-wheeling dictation of what was going on in my mind at one particular point during this latest “adventure.” Like most things, it may change with the scenery.

28 Feb 2010; Apia, (Western) Samoa
Right after this gnawing ache in my gut –- the result (I hope) of something I ate in Bangkok right before I left — the next feeling I’ve got is an overwhelming desire to break down a little out of sheer frustration.

It turns out my sister may not have been right –- at one point during the past couple years (I’ve forgotten exactly when), she relayed to me a little bit of bumper-sticker profundity which, at the time, I found especially appropriate to my recent life choices.

In trying to understand our extremely different takes on life, she saw a quote that put into perspective my life, which until then was probably fairly incomprehensible to her compared to her suburban domesticity –- she told me that “not all those who wander are lost.”

I thought it wonderfully simplistic, and yet at the same time, delightfully profound. My ego agreed with her, telling me that I obviously have all the answers and I’m just traveling to satiate my desire for adventure. I told myself that that was, of course, the main reason why I chose to leave the States and wander throughout Asia for the better part of the 21st century.

However, now I’m starting to recognize just how wrong she, and I, was -– I am lost. I’ve been lost for a very long time, I suppose. And it’s only been my over-inflated ego and well-honed ability to live in denial that’s kept that fact from me for so long.

When I was younger, I held the undying belief that I would be a complete person when, and only if, I met ‘the one’ person who would be able to complete me. For that reason, I spent most of my 20’s moving from one dysfunctional relationship to the next, hoping the next girl I met would be “the one.”

After having the pleasure of getting that myth thrown back in my face with alarming force several years ago, I abandoned my search for ‘the one,’ knowing that the dream is nothing but a myth.

Instead, and without even knowing it, I transferred my obsession with perfection and happiness from a person to a place — if only I could find “the place” I would finally be happy, or at least content.

So I left Miami, and I keep moving all around the world –- Costa Rica, Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand — always in the hope that the next place I’d go would be “the place” for me. That it would all come together in one blinding shot of inspiration.

But it’s not been that easy. I’m starting to realized that is probably never is. Because no matter where I go, I’m always there –- and therefore, it’s always the same. And it’s always wrong.

Apparently, I’m still in a dysfunctional relationship, I’ve simply changed the unhealthy source of longing.

That aspect of my life is far too personal and complex to even begin discussing in earnest here. However, I will say that my search –- albeit unknowing – has left me weary. I am just so, so tired. I just want a place to call home. And that fatigue has led to frustration, which inevitably brings me to tears.

I want to go home. More to the point –- after so many years of moving about, I just want a home. It’s been so long since I’ve known exactly who I am, where I am, or where I will wind up even next week that I can barely tell the difference any more – one place looks just like another, only the weather and the languages change.

I’ve only just arrived, but already I sincerely doubt I’ll find what I am looking for here in Samoa. Shit, it’s a lush tropical paradise and yet I can hardly bring myself to leave my hot, sticky motel room. To me, it’s just another tropical preserve with people and customs to which I can’t fully relate. So really, what’s the point?

I am just so tired. And I just want to go home. If only I knew where that was …

The list of woes is far too thorny a thicket in which to venture here, but suffice to say that 2009 — and the entire Aughts — will go down as quite possibly one of the absolute worst eras in recent history.

For me personally, it’s been an absolute banner fucking year at the ol’ Bender household — despite my attempts to move on to another career path, a significant loss of accrued savings due to the financial meltdown has left me looking for full-time work again (and, dear God, legal work, at that). Plus, the seemingly worldwide hiring freeze resulting from that crisis doesn’t seen to offer any immediate respite, even in that industry.

That being said, given the Scuba diving and surfing pics adoring this site, I still can’t delude myself into thinking that my year was all that bad. I actually do consider myself to be one of the lucky ones. I sorta saw this whole thing coming and had the means to escape to Asia before I suffered any significant woes. I sold my property back in the States for a profit, was able to distance myself from my old gig with little issue and, unencumbered by any significant emotional entanglements, I’ve been able to traipse about Asia for the past several years.

However, as everyone obviously knows, many others haven’t fared even a fraction as well as I have. Indeed, countless millions have lost their life savings, their friendships, marriages and, thanks to that walking void who ran the store for the better part of the decade (cough, cough, George Bush, cough, cough), millions of others have lost their lives, as well.

I know far too many of these types myself — friends who have lost their jobs, homes savings and insurance to corporate malfeasance. Others who have separated or divorced (either directly or indirectly) due to the ’09 shitstorm. And others yet who still can’t find a decent gig even after years of involuntary under/unemployment.

Yes, it has been nice to be able to lend some comfort, either directly or by way of allowing them the means to live vicariously through me. But as one can tell simply by looking through this blog, it’s been getting harder and harder for me to comfort anyone from atop my self-aggrandized perch, even as my own world is contracting at an ever-increasing pace.

This being said, all I can hope for is that 2010, and the entirety of the next decade, will be far, far better than the last one. Well, that and a hearty ‘fuck you, good bye, and good riddance’ to 2009.

While I obviously like to write as a means of self-expression, I’ve never professed to be a grand wordsmith. Or a poet, for that matter. My imagination just isn’t that expansive.

I have, however, always been a huge fan of poetry, and poetry readings, in general. Displays of the spoken word, however, are not all that abundant where I’ve been traveling for the past several years. And I miss them.

Admittedly, the lesser skilled readings may sometimes be tedious, but there are usually a few gems hidden that get your mind lubed up and cranking again — which is nice in light of the steady decline in general knowledge, and the growing disdain of unique self-expression and self-exploration.

HBO’s Def Poetry Jam has been a beacon. A rebirth. And, for many, an introduction to what poetry can be in the modern, urban world. Many of the poets they’ve managed to book have been simply sublime.

And while this particular poem may be somewhat dated (it originally aired on HBO on 25 April 2003, at the height of American post 9-11 paranoia, and the Bush Administration’s exploitation of same), it’s still one of my favorites. And it still holds true today. Perhaps even more so, given President Obama’s decision to “up-the-anty” in Afghanistan — sending an additional (ironically enough) 30,000 troops into that quagmire.

Fighting fire with fire doesn’t seen to be working anymore, perhaps it’s time to try something else?

Jonzi D — “3000 Casualties Of War”

Continuing with the early ’90s era musical kick I’m on this week, I’m going back to a less intense song. Partly because I’ve been listening to it over and over the past couple days, but mostly because I’m not really up for a heavier song this morning — apparently consuming large quantities of rum until 0400 a.m. can lead to an absolutely agonizing hangover.

Yeah, who knew, right?

So here’s another tune from the Singles Soundtrack (I don’t care how ‘gimmicky’ and exploitative of the then up-and-coming Seattle-scene that people say the move was, it still had one of the best soundtracks ever produced). Knock yourselves out.

P.S. Please kill me.

Chris Cornell – Seasons

Happy Thanksgiving, you fat dumb redneck nation. Good luck on trying to form coherent sentences.

Oh yeah, for anyone interested, it’s this type of idiocy that led to my decision to flee the States.

MEH (mē’)

1. (n.) A multi-purpose response, primarily used to imply a degree of indifference.

2. (n.) Vietnam, a country of southeast Asia in eastern Indochina on the South China Sea.

My posts on this blog have been less than prolific in recent months, I know. That’s not to say that much hasn’t been happening in this time. To the contrary, it has — I simply haven’t written about it.

This can be blamed on the fact that I’ve become obsessed with finding a full-time paying gig in Thailand and/or Singapore, which admittedly does take up a lot of my time. However, the ‘truthier’ reason is that I simply haven’t had anything all that stunning to write about.

Don’t get me wrong, over the past several months, I’ve taken a trip back to Sri Lanka, I’ve moved from Bali back to Bangkok, I’m heading back to the States in a few days for the first time in a couple years, and I’m currently in Saigon helping out a friend.

But all of this has been done before, nothing has pissed me off significantly where I felt the need to write about it, and nothing else has happened warranting a full-fledged blog post. Rather, over the past several months, I find that everything I have to say can be said with a 1-line status report on Facebook.

That being said, being back in Saigon has finally piqued my vitriolic creative juices again.

I’ve been to this country three (3) times now, and even not including the times when I had my money grifted at the border crossing and my digital camera stolen from my bag, I STILL have yet to find anything even remotely redeeming about this place.

It’s not so bad that I actively dislike the place, it’s just that, in relation to all the other countries in the region, Vietnam is a Southeast Asian version of Carnival Cruise Lines — on paper, it appears just as good as … say, Thailand or Laos or even Indonesia. But then, when you actually get there, you find out the other passengers are trashier, the cabins are dingier, the food less tasty, the daiquiris watered down, the cruise overbooked, and the crew less accommodating than other cruise lines. And sure, the pool LOOKS great, but there’s a lingering feeling the entire crew has been surreptitiously pissing in the pool every time your back in turned.

The total effect of all this is to leave a nasty aftertaste in your soul, despite any efforts to the contrary.

Maybe my problem (if it can be called that) is that I’ve grown to love Thailand and Laos to such an extent that everything else pales in comparison (even Indonesia, which I also like). As a result, as it now stands, I’d rather hang out in my hotel room surfing the net rather than go outside, dodge traffic, and otherwise watch the locals piss in my pool.

It’ll be interesting to see how I react upon my return to America next week.

The Indonesian Army on Saturday finally reached some of the areas worst hit by Wednesday’s earthquake, bringing two desperately needed tractors to unearth people and houses buried in landslides that swept away entire villages here. One of the tractors promptly broke down.

–New York Times, reporting on the extremely slow Indonesian response to the 7.6 magnitude earthquake that hit Sumatra last week (United Nations currently estimates the death toll at more than 1,000, with thousands more still missing).

As I mentioned in my last post, one of the reasons I’ve been kept fairly busy lately is because I’ve had friends visiting me here in Bali for the past few weeks. Included in those visits was one of my best friends from Miami and his parents. And while he already has a couple brothers, I know him well enough that he feels like a brother to me. We have different perspectives on life, and he’s always been good at getting me to see things from other perspectives.

His recent visit was nothing new.

By now, it’s no secret that I have what, on my better days would be considered a ‘distaste’ for southern Bali’s ever-increasing tourist industry. On my worse days, it would be better defined as ‘utter contempt’.

The biggest issue is that Bali has absolutely no infrastructure. It’s streets, plumbing, landfills, and power plants were never built to accommodate anything more than the villages that occupied the island 25-30 years ago. This means frequent power failures, sewage in the ocean, traffic jams, and an overall decrease in the quality of life.

Personally, I call Kuta, Bali (the main surf tourist center) ‘the ghetto’. I try to avoid even going down there unless I need surf supplies simply because, although it’s only about 5-8 km away from my home, it takes about 30-40 minutes to get there. And once there, you must deal with the constant assault by tour operators, massage ‘therapists’, and shop keepers — all vying for your money, one way or another.

It is, in a word, a mess.

As the years pass, this mess has expanded ever further beyond the borders of Kuta, Bali — and it now reaches through Legion, Seminyak, Canggu, and up through Ubud into the southern hills. And since there is no such thing as ‘city planning’ or ‘civil engineering’ in Indonesia — the result is one vast, unregulated, illogical mess of random shops, alleys, roads, and hotels.

As noted previously, this has always been a source of irritation for me, for a variety of reasons.

First and foremost is because, if you look closely, you can still see the remnants of Bali’s original beauty. There are still random temples and rice patties and roaming cows in the midst of new hotels and villas and shops and parking lots. This place really must have been an absolute paradise once upon a time — as recently as 20 years ago, from what I’ve been told.

The second reason is more pragmatic — there reaches a breaking point for unmitigated and unregulated expansion. Sure, you can build dozens of 2500 person hotels and villas up and down the beach, but if the roads can only accommodate 1000 people, then what’s the point? Ultimately, it just gets too frustrating to deal with.

But here’s where my mate comes back into play — even though he’s also lived in Asia for a while (and is used to this type of third world disorder), when I took him down to Kuta, he loved it. He loved the mess, the mayhem, the chaos.

Sure, it’s a mess now, but even though the concept of ‘logic’ is a rare commodity on Bali, it will eventually prevail — whether due to developers, politicians, or the tourist industry. They will build bigger streets, and power lines that actually work, and buildings that don’t collapse every 5 years.

Indeed, just yesterday — only one (1) day after my mate left — I noticed something:

They just completed a monstrously huge mall complex right on the beach in Legion. It sticks out like a sore thumb, simply because it’s well built, has underground parking, and would fit in at any major beach town in New South Wales, Queensland, or California. I also noticed another large shopping center being built where some older shops had just been demolished in Seminyak.

My friend was right. Sure, Southern Bali is a mess — but it’s got character. There is no other place I’ve been to — in Asia or elsewhere — that is quite like it. Yes, I complain now, and I mourn the loss of Bali’s innocent recent past. But I sense that will be nothing compared to what’s coming.

I’ve no doubt that, within only several more years, Bali will turn into every other tourist beach town in the West. And while the traffic may ease, and the electricity may work, and the fresh water may flow — something will be lost in the transition.

Because of that, I thank my friend for lending me his perspective. Probably for the first time since I moved here last October, I’m glad I’m living in Bali now. Just as I’m jealous of the blokes who rave about how pristine the island was back 20 years ago, I’m sure others will be jealous of my stories of Kuta 20 years from now, when I can tell them of the chaos — back when it wasn’t just another beach town.

[Me, post-operative -- with new nuclear power core]

I’m just not the hero type. Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I’ve made, largely public. –Tony Stark

So it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything here.

To be honest, it’s due to several issues really — I’ve been traveling throughout Nusa Tenggara a bit, I’ve been spending some time with friends, most of what I have to say can just as easily be posted via Facebook, and finally, … well, I’ve been getting my chest opened up by doctors and stuff.

So, while I suffer no illusions that anyone still visits this blog on a regular basis — mostly due to my frequent bouts of inactivity while traveling the backwaters of Southeast Asia — I still feel the need to post a little bit about recent events, for posterity sakes if for nothing else.

As I mentioned previously, I’ve made an effort to hunker down in Indonesia for the summer in an attempt to preserve what’s left of my ever-dwindling supply of cash reserves, simply because it’s cheaper here than anywhere else in Asia (except perhaps India … and we all know how I feel about that shithole country).

So I’ve been alternating between here in Bali, and going out to Nusa Tenggara for surfing and to visit friends. I recently was out there surfing, and then took a side trip out to Flores for a little exploration. Although Flores was a bit tumultuous at times, I had a great time.

The down side was that I acquired a bit of a medical problem while there. I’ll explain…

Over the past several years, I’ve built up a lump on my breastbone from where I lay on my surfboard while surfing. It sometimes gets swollen when I surf too much, and it sometimes shrinks when I stay out of the water for a while. But it has, all in all, been steadily growing over the past couple years. In medical terms, it’s an unattached, mobile, subcutaneous, cyst-like … ‘thingy’ that, in itself, poses no harm.

However, for whatever reason, while I was in Flores, it got infected. Maybe an ingrown hair. Maybe just internal bacterium. Don’t know why. It just started to swell, and hurt. I’ve had similar issues both back in University and in Law School (altho on my leg and my lower back, respectively). So I knew what it was, and I knew I had to return to Bali to get it removed by a doctor before the infection spread.

The problem is that, although Bali is the closest place to get competent medical assistance, it’s also extremely expensive to do so, since the hospitals are used to catering to rich tourists with extensive travel insurance. Unfortunately, I am neither rich, nor do I have travel insurance.

So I spent a good 2 days going from hospital to hospital, clinic to clinic, doctor to doctor — spending about US$200.00 in the process on ‘consultation fees’ — just to find someone who would help me without getting financially raped in the process. I found out the hard way that, as a foreigner, this is much harder than it would first appear.

Indeed, at one point, I found myself negotiating for assistance with the surgeon at Kasih Ibu Hospital in Denpasar — like I was buying a car … or a mango.

Beforehand, I wasn’t aware that ‘standard of care’ was negotiable. Now I know better.

Regardless, I finally found a decent, relatively inexpensive, and ultimately competent surgeon at Prima Medika Hospital, also in Denpasar. He opened up a 3 cm hole in the middle of my chest, sucked up the infected material, cut out the scar tissue, and cauterized the cyst-walls. I’ve had the wound left open for 3 days now to let the whole thing continue to drain until the infection is gone.

I return tonite for the doctor to add the new nuclear power cells and stitch the whole thing back up, after which, I should be god to go.

And I’ll be able to fly and shit too, yo.

True. True.

(photo c/o Andrew Sullivan)

Like CNN, I too have conspicuously avoided writing about the Iranian election debacle and resulting demonstrations. However, I’d like to think that my reasons for doing so are far nobler than the simple neglect shown by CNN’s and the remainder of the mainstream media.

And once coverage actually began in the mainstream media, instead of covering the actual events on the ground, ironically, much has instead been made about how the Obama administration should continue to handle the situation. Many pundits (on all sides of the political spectrum) are claiming the President should lend more vocal support to the protesters.

Personally, I disagree.

Although the cause may indeed be just, it’s not America’s role to engage in internal Iranian politics at this stage. Indeed, in this case, discretion is the better part of valor. The New Republic, of all places, has an unusually coherent editorial in this regard:

the Obama administration has to be very careful about backing, or even placing great hopes on, someone like Iran’s Moussavi and even on his impassioned followers. If we are seeing the beginning of another revolution–or structural transformation–in Iran, it is worth remembering that before the dust clears on this events, Kerensky can become Lenin and Bani Sadr can become Khomeini.

Personally, I hope the violence ends soon. And I also hope, like many Iranians do, for change. The Iranian people deserve it.

However, regardless of the underlying causes behind what is now happening on the ground in Iran, regardless of whatever personal attachments or feelings I or anyone else outside Iran may have to same, and regardless of how the international community chooses to react, what is now happening is the province of the Iranian people. Moreover, it is one of the most important things taking place in the world right now. And it should not – cannot - be dismissed.

I would suggest everyone keep up with Andrew Sullivan and other non-traditional media sources for updates.

As one would imagine, when I head out to the islands (with no electricity and no running water and such), I don’t keep up on the news as much as I might otherwise. Indeed, over the past couple years, I’ve realized that I can gather most of the news I need from the surf report.

Notwithstanding, I HAVE heard about this whole ‘global economic meltdown’ thingy that’s going on. And I heard from several sources — online, televised, written and otherwise — that there may be the stirrings of a genuine economic recovery starting back in the States.

But then I read this uplifting op-ed piece in today’s New York Times, from where the above picture was pilfered. The authors claim:

We are sympathetic to the extraordinary challenge the president faces, but if we’ve learned anything at all two years into the worst financial crisis of our lifetimes, it is that a capital-markets system this dependent on public confidence is a shockingly inadequate foundation upon which to rest our economy.

On the bright side, although one of the authors, Mr. Sandy Lewis, was convicted on federal charges of stock manipulation in 1989, he was pardoned by President Bill Clinton in 2001 and had his lifetime trading ban overturned by the Securities and Exchange Commission in 2006. As such, he can obviously lend his talents towards fixing the current situation.

Umm … perhaps ‘fixing’ wasn’t the bast choice of wording.

Regardless, I’m sure Prez Obama will think ‘outside the box’ to sort this whole mess out. Oh yeah, although he promised to change the whole paradigm in Washington, he IS still just a politician — and a Democrat, at that. Which explains why he ‘handed over his economic policy to worn-out Wall Street gorgons like Larry Summers and Bob Rubin.’

Oh, okay. Well then, there must still be a whole bunch of other people who can still straighten this mess out from the outside-in, right?

I mean, consider Goldman Sachs’ new adviser, Arthur Levitt Jr., the former chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission. He’s gonna be helpful.

Oh wait, what’s that you say? Levitt helped convince Bill Clinton to make two of the most important bad decisions that led to this financial crisis. So now he’s still around helping to liaise between Goldman Sachs and the government.

Oh … okay. Yeah, I see your point — we’re all still pretty fucked. Okay then, I’m going back to the islands and stick to reading the surf reports.

It’s been widely reported that X-Men Origins: Wolverine, the blockbuster that was supposed to start the wave of 2009 summer movies, is really bad. This, after the unfinished movie was leaked online a month before its world premiere.

The authorized movie trailers do nothing to dispel the buzz that the film is nothing more than a celebrity-packed “B movie.”

And just last night, I saw something locally here in Asia that just adds more fuel to the fire.

Out here in Asia, we’re understandably limited in the number of English speaking television networks, with HBO, Star World and XPN being three (3) of the most ubiquitous. Both HBO and Star have sister networks, with Star Movies being the most popular of the Star networks.

This week, Star Movies is advertising that it will be showing X-Men Origins: Wolverine on PAY PER VIEW on it’s Asian release date next week, rather than going to movie theatres. Let me say that again, THE summer blockbuster has been reduced to essentially a ‘straight to DVD’ production.

Great news, as I can look forward to seeing a pirated DVD version I can buy for .50 cents (US) in the next few days!

The sheer stupidity to which I sometimes live up to the title of this blog is staggering. And for how much insight I can often glean when reading people in how they deal with others, it is also staggering at just HOW wrong I usually am when I try to apply that same insight into my own life (the only reason I know is when people have told me months, or even years, after the fact).

But more distressful than either of those things is the fact that, even after all these years, I still sometimes pout like a little boy when things don’t go my way.

I’ve always been a brat, yes, that’s true. But I had conquered (or at least begun to master) the silly little temper tantrums I used to throw when things didn’t go my way.

But all this living alone, and doing everything I want, and going wherever I want, whenever and however I want — day in and day out for the last 3 years — has softened me up again to the point where I’ve forgotten how to deal with things, and people, when I DON’T get to do what I want. And I’ve returned to that place I was at when I was a stupid little boy — acting like a complete ass until I get my way.

It is not who I am. And, after a couple days reflection, I just want to beat myself about the head and neck with a handful of cocktail straws. But unfortunately, it’s something I need to deal with again.

For the moment, I’m too tired, and too angry with myself to explore — in words, at least — how best to deal with my apparent loss of maturity and self-control. And I’m hunkering down against a massive case of sensory overload and culture shock here in Sydney right now.

I really am a bit worried about how, and if, I’ll be able to readjust when I finally do return to the herd.

With that being said, I’m heading out of Sydney to visit friends in Melbourne for several days. Then I may stay with another friend in the small coastal town of Woolongong to get some surf, and try to clear my head a bit. Because it’s all just a bit much at the moment.