A Bowl of Stupid

Okay, for anyone interested — here are a couple of pictures of the new Sak Yant tattoo I got yesterday.

And with respect to the question posed by Girl With Curious Hair as to sanitary issues — although TK has welcomed me to the wonderful world of tetanus … personally, I'm not all that concerned about the needle (read: spear) they used for the tattoo, I'm pretty sure the snake venom took care of anything bad.

Plus, according to the latest news, now I've got to worry about the communist rebels that killed a couple cops in the small Philippino surfing/fishing villiage that I'm leaving for in about 6 hours — so any potential blood infection may be the least of my concerns.

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So I'm feeling pretty stoked right now. I did something today that officially qualifies as being one of the coolest things I've done since moving to Thailand:

I took a trip to the most famous temple in the world for 'Yant tattooing' — Wat Bang Phra, in Nakhon Chaysri, Nakhon Pathom Province, Thailand (it's said a tattoo from this temple can protect from danger or even death — and given my track record, you can see why I went there).

For those who are unaware (myself included, to some extent):

Sak yant (Thai: สักยันต), also called yantra tattooing, is a form of sacred tattooing practiced in Southeast Asian countries, including Cambodia and Thailand. Sak yant are normally tattooed by Buddhist monks or Brahmin priests.

The Wat Bang Phra Buddhist temple, about 30 miles west of Bangkok, is one of the most highly esteemed locations for Sak Yant. Dozens of monks and master artists, who have spend years perfecting the art, can be found there. Many people — including two (2) monks I wound up giving a ride back to the Bangkok bus station — travel from far reaches of Thailand and Cambodia just to get 'inked' by the monks there.

I don't yet have a picture of the new tattoo (located on my upper shoulders, extending up the length of my neck to the base of my skull), but I'll post one as soon as I get the chance.

The experience was kinda trippy in and of itself — a local friend of mine recently got a yant tattoo from Arjan Noo, the preist here in Bangkok that received worldwide fame for giving Angelina Jolie the yant designs adorning her back. So, together with a friend who was here yesterday visiting from the States, I decided to go and get inked by this guy.

The only problem? Now that Ajarn Noo is famous, a blessed tattoo from him costs about US$1000.00 (ONE THOUSAND U.S. DOLLARS) — which translates into three surfboards, for the rest of us. Naturally, we were inclined to say 'fuck it' to that high-fallutin' shit.

Just the same, we still wanted to look at getting inked. So we wandered over to the shop on the Sukhumvit that I got my last design done, where the artist told us that we could also get Sak Yant done at the sacred Wat Bang Phra — where Noo apparently trained — for the equivilent of US$5.00 (FIVE U.S. DOLLARS).

Okay, let's review … admittedly talanted yet incredibly over-hyped 'tattoo artist to the stars' — versus — true Buddhist monks practicing a sacred craft, hand crafted traditional artistic designs, 'blessed' protective mantras on me for all time, no celebrities, no bullshit, … and oh yeah, for only Five Bucks?

That's a pretty tough call, right? Yeah, that's what I said too.

Unfortunately, my friend left last night, so she couldn't get any ink done. So I made solo arrangements for the trip to the temple instead.

Despite having been told, and reading online accounts (the Wikipedia account was particularly accurate) about the Wat, I STILL had trouble at first figuring out how the whole process works (c'mon, it IS bloody Thailand). However, I was lucky enough to run into 2 monks who spoke decent English and helped me along. The pair had travelled 250 kilometers from their temple near Cambodia for the day, just to get tattooed at the Wat.

Thanks to them, I was also lucky enough to be admitted into the group of people waiting for Hiwong Pi Nan, one of the younger masters to come up in recent years, who has developed a rather large following of disciples since his tattoos are finely detailed and absolutely beautiful.

Before entering the temple, you must buy flowers and cigarettes (about US$2.00) as an offering to Buddha. These offerings are given to the monk, and then 'recycled' for the next batch of devotees, with the money used to support the Wat. The tattoos are done in groups of about 15-20 people. When the previous group is complete, the monk blesses the next batch of offerings and the next group of people.

When tattooing, the monk dips a slender 15 inch double-pronged metal rod (think barbeque skewer) into a dark inky liquid (said to contain a combination of coloring agent, palm oil, herbs, and snake venom). He then repeatedly, rhythmically, and quickly punctures the skin. Small dots of ink and blood appear, and with repeated applications, the small dots eventually form an overall design.

For me, the precess was far more painful than the modern machine-needle tattooing (or even the bamboo needling) I've had done in the past. As such, I eventually resorted to rythemic breathing and chanting mantras to focus out the pain. It helped for a bit … until I could hear/feel the metal rod literally 'POPPING' in and out of the skin of my upper neck — at which point, I kinda lost concentration and started giggling (which I think may be a 'no-no' in a Buddhist temple, I'm not sure).

After finishing, the monk say a quick prayer and blows of the tattoo. You then go to the next temple building, where the temple's master himself also blesses the tattoo (and, in my case, he also 'topped-up' the pre-existing "OM MANI PADME HUM" Sanscrit prayer mantra I already have on my upper back).

And that was that.

Honestly, I feel incredible right now. I mean, really freakin' good!!

Usually, I come out after getting a new tat feeling kinda worn out. But for some reason, that's not the case today.

Is it the protective blessing placed on me through the new tattoo? Who knows. I don't particularly believe in any of that religious mumbo-jumbo, but there are more things in Heaven and Earth, dear Horatio, so you never know …

Or it could just be the mutherfuckin' snake venom.

Anyhoo, I'll post picks of the new ink as soon as I get a chance (hopefully before I leave for the Philippines tomorrow).

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My buddy Desho Bernard (Desho needs a hug), who produces comedic video clips for Guru Bangkok (i.e., The Bangkok Post), just made this lastest clip — about Facebook addiction.

And while I don't refer to myself in the third person (except during sex, of course), I am also one of the legion of Facebook addicts. Ahh, we laugh because it's funny, and we laugh because it's true — Desho can't go on!!

Damn, this shit is funny.

I'd like to be able to say that I contributed to at least a portion of the brainstorming that came up with this clip. But given that the concept — unlike myself — is REALLY funny … I think we all know that I had absolutely nothing to do with it. Dammit!

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Gone? Gone, you say?

Not so fast, motherfuckers …

Yep. God bless the baggage handlers at Merpati Airlines and Air Asia in Jakarta and Bangkok.

Admittedly, for more than a few minutes there, I honestly thought I'd have to go back to Bali again on another shopping excursion — this time for 2 MORE new boards, plus replacement rashies, leggies, suits, and booties.

But apparently my bag is now sitting in the Bangkok airport, waiting diligently for me after being hustled back here on the same night-time flight I took back here — and only 1 day later.

Major, MAJOR props go out to the baggage handlers and customer service reps at both of those airlines — NONE of whom speak English as a first language, yet from whom I still get better service, and better results, than with other airlines I've flown with back in the U.S. (cough, cough … AMERICAN … cough).

Granted, I don't yet have my board-bag (or its contents) in my grubby little hands, but I have double independent confirmation that the bag is sitting in the Air Asia 'lost luggage' department at the Bangkok International Airport cross-town — which is a far cry better than having them languishing in the depths of another airport located in another country. Right?

It's funny. I never thought I'd be a good dad. I still don't, really. I'm just far too selfish and I don't really give a high-holy shit about anyone or anything else. But now I feel like I just went through one of those junior high 'Home-Economics' projects where you have to take care of an egg for a week in prep for parenthood.

Really, I thought I lost my eggs there for a moment. But I've got them back, god-dammit. I've got them back.

One word of advise, never let your surf gear (or your eggs, … or your kids too, I guess … whatever) out of your sight. God bless you all.

Excuse me, I think I'm gonna cry.

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A few quick notes:

First, for anyone interested, I just posted new pictures up on my Flickr page from my trip last month to Krui, Sumatra, Indonesia. Feel Free to take a look.

Second, I leave Bangkok again tonight for another month of surfing back down in Rote, Timur, Indonesia. I am, like usual, excited about the upcoming trip — especially considering the surf down there has been absolutely EXCEPTIONAL in the past couple weeks, and they expect it to continue (double overhead, 5-10 knot offshore trade winds, and simply perfect).

Unlike usual, however, I am also contemplating getting a JOB here in Bangkok when I finish my summer in the Philippines, Micronesia, and elsewhere in the Pacific.

Yeah, I said it! Whatcha gonna do?

Seriously, I like Bangkok THAT much, and I'm actually thinking about going back to work — if only to sharpen back up my intellectual skills (or what's left of them). I've spoken to a couple friends here, and there are several interesting possibilities that do NOT include the practice of law. I enjoy living in Bangkok more than any place else I've lived for a while … so it just kinda makes sense (in a strange, capitalistic kinda way).

But September is a long way off … so we'll just have to see how it unfolds.

Finally, before I go incommunicado for a few weeks, I wanted to leave you guys with this thought:

Although living in Bangkok is awesome, there will obviously always be cultural issues that plague any American or European visitors.

The non-Latin language and script is the most obvious issue. However, there are a plethora of other differences — some gross, some sublime — that also invade my everyday life here in Bangkok and make me remember that I'm an ex-pat living in an entirely foreign culture.

For example, why do Thais maintain fastidiously clean floors (clean enough to eat off of), while letting immediately adjacent walls fall into baffling levels of disrepair?

And why do Thais have such (well known) open and accepting views on sexual preferences and skimpy clothing, yet still maintain such ridged views as to public bathing, such that it's frowned upon to go swimming in bikinis or any other type of revealing bathing suit fashioned any time after the Eisenhower administration?

Yet these issues are, in large part, mere curiosities. They don't really affect my daily life, or the lives of anyone else I know. The only cultural difference that really bothers me, on a daily basis, is the ridiculous show of deference and politeness shown by Thais to foreigners ('falangs').

This gets tiring … FAST.

Consider when you go out to eat (or go out anywhere, really) back in the States — there's a general understanding that, although you're the customer, the staff generally knows more than you do about how best to service your needs in the absence of any orders to the contrary (e.g., if you don't say anything, it's safe to say that you'll get your steak back 'medium' to 'medium-rare').

In Bangkok, however, you will instead get a waitress coming over every 2 minutes asking how you want your potatoes done, how hot you like your chili sauce, how well done you want your meat … and so on, and on, and on, and on.

Similarly, I went to get a haircut the other day, but eventually gave up on the whole thing after the barber refused to cut off any more that 1-2 millimeters at a time for fear of offending me. After an hour of this, I could barely tell that I'd been to the barber at all. Regardless, I still had to leave for fear that I would lose my shit, pull a Wayne Brady, and wind up choking the bitch.

Asking directions is also a big no-no here in Bangkok. Not because nobody will tell, but instead, they will try TOO hard. Inevitably, no matter whether or not the person you ask knows where you're going, they will simply agree with any directions you may suggest, point to, or show on a map — for fear of offending you, or telling you that they can't help you.

It really is like NYC in reverse. And like I said, it gets kinda tiring after a while.

Just once … ONCE … I want to go into a restaurant or a coffee shop — or anywhere!! — and have the wait staff ignore me, and spit in my food, and generally treat me like a piece of shit like they used to do back in New York and Miami and Philly. Just once — to let me know they're alive!

Alrighty then … I needed to get that off my chest … thanks, I feel better now. I'll see you guys in June. Peace out.

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Not really much to write about at the present. I'm just enjoying my stay here in Bangkok before leaving again back for Rote, Indonesia in three (3) days.

I've said it before and I'll say it again — Bangkok really is a great town. But it also has a tendency to drain money from your wallet at an alarming rate (and this is coming from an ex-pat who's living here — I can only imagine how much money all the tourist 'falangs' are forking out while here on holiday).

Just today, I bought a new rice cooker, a French drip coffee pot, and new headphones for my iPod. This is in addition to the books and DVD's I bought to take with me to Rote, as well as all the movies I've been seeing (including the new 'Speed Racer' movie … which sucked on too many levels to discuss right now without suffering a cerebral hemorrhage), and the new clothes, and the yoga classes, and the coffees, and the lunches, and the dinners, and the nightclubs.

It's kinda like Miami — it's so good it's bad.

Thankfully, I had the foresight to plan ahead — like I said, I leave again in 3 days. I really need to get out of this town and back to the peace and quiet of Indonesia before I go broke … or wind up marrying a Thai hooker, whichever comes first.

Okay, I'm off to go play poker with a bunch of Swedes — dammit, there's another 1000 baht I'll never see again.

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(Rote, Indonesia — August 2007)

If it hasn't been made abundantly clear by now, I absolutely LOVE Bangkok. Love. It.

My friends here, the food here, the music, the shopping, the … well, everything — it's just a great place. At times, it reminds me so much of NYC that it's ridiculous (except for the cost of living … which, although nominal, is still high by Thai standards).

So, for anyone who has the opportunity, I highly recommend both visiting and/or living here (at least for some time, if at all possible).

That being said, there is still no surfing to be done in Bangkok. Or the rest of Thailand, for that matter (and to those people who say there's 'surfing' in Phuket, I would respectfully disagree … STRONGLY. Really, saying that you can go surfing in Phuket is like saying you can drive a car with your feet — sure, you could do it, but it don't make it a good fucking idea).

So, despite everything, I just made plans for another month-long surf trip down to Indonesia in a couple of weeks.

This time I'm returning to Rote, Timur — the place in the above picture, where I spent a month last August. Although not perfect, it's the closest place to it that I've found so far — small (or at least only intermittent) crowds, consistent and great (if not 'world class') surf, no electricity, no running water, and cheap as anything else to be found in Indonesia. Best of all, it's located in a small, stable fishing village with local peoples still relatively unbesmirched by the lure of plentiful tourists and their 'easy-money.'

So, despite a long, fun (and ultimately debilitating) night out clubbing at "BED" and "The Supper Club" on Friday night, I'm still nowhere NEAR my fill of all that Bangkok has to offer. But give it a couple more weeks … I'm betting I'll be ready for the tranquility of another island out in the middle of nowhere … or at least, I hope so.

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I'm back in Bangkok. God, it feels so good just to write that out.

Admittedly, it's not like I've got all that much to do in the first place, but I've accomplished so much in just the past several days that I just really enjoy being back. I'm in Bangkok … and I'm loving it.

• I've resolved all the online banking and money issues with which I was dealing while surfing in the bowels of Southern Sumatra.
• I've spoken and/or emailed with most everyone I had neglected during the past month (most importantly, the parentals).
• I've FINALLY purchased new clothes needed to replace most of those I originally brought with me from the States that were either lost, destroyed, or no longer fit — I've lost about 10 more pounds since I left, and all of my clothes are about 2,000 sizes too big (my waist size has dropped from 36 to 30 inches).
• I've gorged myself on the seemingly endless supply of great diverse food to be found here in Bangkok — Mexican, American, Italian, Thai — as long as it does NOT include rice in any shape or form (I ate nothing but rice in Indo, and I need a few weeks break).
• I've stocked up with a nice selection of pirated DVD's of all the latest movies (by the way, the new 'Iron Man' movie fucking ROCKS!!)
• And, most importantly, I've been to the local massage parlor (not THAT kind, you freaks) about 200 times during the past week. My muscles are fully recovered from the one month of almost nonstop surfing, and my back has been cracked up more times than Chris Rock in 'New Jack City.'

Now, all I have left to do is get the electricity turned back on in the apartment (the local electric company turns it off only 2-3 days after the bill is overdue). It's been several days now, because I just today (Saturday) figured out how and where to pay the bill, which is written entirely in Thai.

It's a small price to pay, tho. I've got an extra battery for my laptop, and the local coffee shop has free wireless AND air conditioning. Nice.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an appointment, and the girls at 'Mama Sans' hate to be kept waiting.

* The title of this post, for the unaffiliated (i.e., anyone OTHER than that musical idiot-savant, TK) is taken from a Sufjan Stevens song.

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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.

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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.

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(A view down Phloen Chit from the Sukhumvit line BTS station)

One of the best things about traveling abroad with (relatively) no time limitation and (relatively) no agenda is the ability, and indeed, the tendency to randomly meet a larger range of people than you might otherwise by simply living in one place. Indeed, one of the reasons I initially decided to leave Miami was due to my ever-diminishing circle of friends — whether due to marriage, relocation, diverging interests, or whatever.

Since then, however, I have been alternatively blessed and cursed to meet some truly amazing people throughout the course of my travels. The blessed part of this is, of course, getting to meet such great people. I now have people I very much want to go visit all throughout the world — the UK, France, Australia, the Philippines, the Netherlands, Sweden, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, and yes … even India (among others). The downside is that, due to the transitory nature of my life, I don't get to spend much time with these folks which, to put it simply, really sucks.

It truly is one of the larger issues in my life right now — how to regularly deal with new 'best friends' whom, in all likelihood, will soon lose that 'status' whenever one, or all of us, move on (or goes home).

Another, and connected major, issue is the fact that I have no home. As I've mentioned previously, my friend who was so kindly putting me up in his extra room in Singapore has since 'flew the koop' — he's moved back to Miami with his new fiance. Similarly, my other mate who was letting me crash on his couch in Singapore will, in all likelihood, be moving back to the States in the near future (plus, staying with him was never a long term option anyway; indeed, I haven't even been back to Singapore since early last November).

However, another benefit of living with (relatively) no time constraints or agendas is the ability to simply 'ride the crest' of whatever wave may be passing by at any particular time — both literally and metaphorically.

Presently, due to a bizarre sequence of events I'm not at liberty to discuss, this 'wave' comes in the form of the ability for me to take over a friend's lease here in Bangkok for 1-2 months. Initially, I thought twice about doing it since surf season in Indonesia is just about to pick up. However, after thinking on it for a bit, I thought it just a bit too coincidental that an opportunity like this would come up right now.

• Right now, when I've just met (and/or gotten to know better) some really great people here in Bangkok who have already taken me in as one of their own — just when I've been lamenting the transitory nature of my traveling friendships.
• Right now, when all I really wanted - needed - was a few weeks (at least) to relax and catch my breath between surf trips, like I would do in Singapore last year — just when I was contemplating quitting my travels en toto because I just wanted to sleep, with no pressure to stay, somewhere safe and comfortable for a little bit.
• Right now, when I was already looking from India and Sri Lanka towards Thailand as a place to take a deep breath and restore a sense of myself again after 4 months on the road.

Given these coincidences, it seemed the right thing to do, y'know?

Don't get me wrong, I'm still heading to Indonesia for a surf trip in a few weeks. But at least I've got a home to come back to — which, quite candidly, is a greater comfort than I ever thought it would be.

And no, it's not perfect. I mean, I've been living in bamboo huts for the greater part of the past year, and Bangkok is a huge, modern, crowded, bustling city (very similar to NYC, in my opinion). And Bangkok is more expensive than India, Sri Lanka, or even the rest of Thailand (again, think NYC vs. rest of USA).

But it's still relatively cheap (around US$250-300/mo. rent at a good location about 1/4 block from the Skytrain). And I have friends here I'm looking forward to spending time with. And the rail and bus lines are easy. And the food is both diverse and delicious. And English is spoken pretty much everywhere.

And most importantly, I have a place to call home for a month or two. Tonight, at last, I am coming home.

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I was 19 years old when I got my first tattoo. It was 1990, I was a sophomore at Arizona State University, and I guess I thought it was about time to get a tattoo.

Recently, however, I haven't been able to pinpoint just why I wanted, or how I even came to the decision to get the tattoo. Nor have I been able to recall exactly the thought processes that led me to pick that particular picture — the one directly above — to get permanently etched on my skin.

This image in question is of Calvin & Hobbs, the 2 title characters in a popular comic strip popular in the 1980's - 1990's, written and illustrated by Bill Watterson. For those of you not familiar with Calvin and Hobbes, the comic followed the humorous antics of Calvin, an imaginative six-year old boy, and Hobbes, his energetic and sardonic, albeit stuffed, tiger (named after Thomas Hobbs).

Granted, my mom wasn't thrilled to see the tattoo — especially when she realized it would not come off no matter how much soap I used. But when I got the tattoo, the comic strip was ubiquitous, well-known, and loved by both men and women. At the time, it was the best of both worlds for me — guys thought the tattoo was cool, while girls thought the tattoo was cute. It was great.

Unfortunately, times have changed.

My tattoo no longer held that same sway with my audience of late, thanks to a variety of factors — Bill Watterson's retirement of the comic strip in the the mid-1990's, the ravages of time and sun exposure to my skin, and the seemingly ceaseless efforts of American rednecks whose numbers are legion who chose THAT particular comic to decry their outrage over the quality of Ford trucks.

As such, for the past several years, the result has been a bluish blur on my left shoulder resembling something some people in some places vaguely recalled seeing at some time in the past. Moreover, this problem was exacerbated after I left the States. As a result, lately, all I seemed to hear was:

"Oh wow, is that an old tiger tattoo on your arm? What, were you in the French Foreign Legion or something?"

Uh, not so much … no.

So I've been searching for years for a 'replacement' tattoo to cover up ol' Calvin & Hobbs. Either fortunately or unfortunately, I was never able to find something I liked enough to replace them, nor have I been in many places where getting a tattoo was a practical (or healthy) idea.

But eventually I designed my own cover-up tattoo, and I'm now in Bangkok — one of the premiere locales in the world to get 'inked'. So I figured it was about time to finally ink it over up with the new design.

That's what I did today. Actually, THIS is what I did today:

The design itself is larger than I otherwise would have gone with, but it was necessary to cover the original. And the photo isn't the best — it doesn't show some of the smaller details (there are some wave designs and cross-hatching that my camera can't pick up), but all in all I'm pleased about how it came out.

Given all the issues with the old tattoo, I thought getting this new one would be a non-issue. And quite frankly, it was … until after it was gone. It was only when I saw the figures of Calvin and Hobbs slowly disappearing under a blanket of fresh black ink that I finally remembered the underlying reasons, and circumstances of, why and how I got that first tattoo.

I won't bore you with those details — most of which are inane and irrelevant to everyone but myself and my former college roommate Stacey (who came with me and got his first tattoo at the same time). But I will say this much: I am a bit sorry to see it gone.

Although it was old and faded and much of its initial meaning lost to the ravages of time, every time I looked down at my left shoulder, I was unknowingly reminded of an earlier — and very happy — time of my life. I haven't consciously thought about those college years for quite a while. Nor have I thought about the comic strip itself for a while.

My apologies, but I'm keeping my fond youthful memories to myself. I will, however, remind those of you who are interested of at least one of the reasons why I chose those particular comic strip characters to first decorate my skin.

So, to summarize, I quit my job and life in the States to go goof off traveling around the world for a few years, where I eventually go and cover up a tattoo of a comic strip poking fun at the same societal norms condemning goofing off from which I fled.

Well goddammit, if that ain't irony, I don't know what is.

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Hey! Look who I ran into last night here in Bangkok!!

Either that or I'm still hallucinating from all the laew Khao whiskey I drank at and/or after (it's still not clear to me which) the MTV Party at my friends hotel here in Bangkok. Uggh, just kill me now.

The party itself was great. I went to dinner with some friends I met down in Rai Lay Beach before heading over the the hotel rooftop, where the party itself was being held. It was a great venue, Rob Garza from Thievery Corporation was in attendance, as were some other great DJ's. All in all, a fun time … from what I remember, of course.

Sho Nuff!!

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Since I left the USB cord to my camera in Singapore, I haven't been able to upload ANY pictures ever since I was in the Philippines in November. I'm returning to Singapore next week for a few days for a bit of 'rest and relaxation' (i.e., air conditioning and hot water), at which time I'll pick up the cord and upload my pictures from the past 3 months.

However, I will also have to buy a new camera since my old one just went tits up after I dropped it about 5 meters while rock climbing. Oops. Heh-heh, never saw THAT coming.

In the meantime, above is a picture taken on my computer showing the backdrop at the beautiful Railay Bay Resort here in Krabi, where I'm currently stealing borrowing free Wi/Fi. It's not THAT bad of a setting for late February, huh?

Happy winter everyone!!

Not much else to report other than I'm still trying to figure out where to go surfing for a couple months in March and April before heading back to the Philippines to meet up again with the royalty over there — right, princess?

I've been looking at the surf reports, and although it pains me to say this … Indonesia, and Bali specifically, is looking mighty, MIGHTY fine right about now. 4-6 waves with 12-15 second intervals, and 3-5 knot offshore winds. Pretty tempting, but I've still got the itch to head out into the Pacific for a bit — Micronesia, Tonga, or Palau, for example. Once again, pretty tempting.

Regardless, wherever I head, I'll make sure to bring some limes, just so I don't sink (Extra credit for picking up the reference).

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