A Bowl of Stupid

Note: It’s funny how I get the most responses (I’m counting both here and privately) when I’m having a particularly bad time of things. That’s probably a good thing, as it means my friends and family, regardless of their location, are still looking out for my best interests. For that, I thank them. Truly. But try not to worry too much, as I stated in my last post (the one in question), I sometimes write simply to work things out in my own head, and they don’t necessarily reflect exactly what’s going on in my world.

In contrast to last week, which I spent both en route to and traveling around (Western) Samoa and where I had an overabundance of time and an under-abundance of electricity, I’m now located in my new home — American Samoa, where I’ve got computer access but lacking a bit on the time to write. I’ll try to remedy that (the time part, at least).

Given the challenges I went through to get here, I guess I should be happy to have even arrived — alive and in one piece (generally speaking).

By the time I first arrived on island, I hadn’t showered or slept for over 2.5 days, I was suffering from heat prostration, sun poisoning, 300-400 mosquito bites, fever, serious ‘digestive issues,’ dehydration, over-exhaustion, and (last but not least) a severely swollen and infected leg that I’d seriously mangled on the reef in Samoa after only 3 days in the water. In short, I was an absolute mess (which, for those of you who know me, is really saying something).

Even discounting all those issues, I still just HAD to get out of Western Samoa — simply speaking, in any of the various worldwide shitholes where I’ve stayed, never before in my life have I paid so much for so little (example, at the surf camp I stayed on the south coast of Upolu, I paid US$45/night to sleep in an open air bungalow with no mosquito net, with lard and crackers as ‘breakfast,’ no running water, and where the family who runs the place returned home at dark, leaving me, the only guest, alone to contend with the local stray dogs all night).

Never has an island that subsists almost entirely on tourist dollars been less tourist-friendly than that one. And never before have I seen such “nickel-and-diming” to death as I did on Upolu. It was sad, especially considering I’d heard the independent side was the nicer of the two Samoa’s.

In contrast, I was worried about coming (and living) on the American side, reading wicked things about the state of affairs here on Tutuila. But so far (and I emphasize, “so far”), Pago Pago reminds me of a typical beautifully preserved colonial island town, similar to something that one might find somewhere in the Caribbean. It is … simply beautiful here.

And as the days go on, and as I’ve healed from my ordeal on the other side, and as I learn more about the place, the people, the opportunities here, and as I’ve obtained my own car, and apartment, and sense of wholeness again — I like it more and more every day.

Sure, there are issues — it’s small, it’s preternaturally hot, it’s obscenely wet, the people are massive, the cars (trucks) are massive, the meal portions are massive, and it has taken many of the lesser qualities from both American and Samoan cultures. But it’s also in the process of integrating many of the better ones too — the Rule of Law applies (generally), the Public Library is modern and brimming with media, there’s fresh local tuna and fruits, there’s a variety of foods, there’s a growing diversity of people (Samoan, Chinese, Filipino, Korean, Caucasian), there’s a sense of community, and there’s a positive, yet not unsightly, sense of pride in being American.

I haven’t even yet had the opportunity to do much of what I came here to do — hike, mountain bike, surf, swim, snorkel, SCUBA. But the scenery is absolutely gorgeous and I’m looking forward to seeing where the road here leads me …

I’m well aware that it’s still far too early to say, but I already feel a bit like Andy Dufresne – who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side.

A photo of Bin Laden from 1998 (left) was digitally altered using elements from an image of Gaspar Llamazares, a Spanish politician who has said he was shocked to find out the FBI had used his photo for a digitally-altered image showing how Osama Bin Laden might look. (click image above for full story)

Dear FBI Profilers, although I am of Middle Easern descent, please don’t “borrow” any of my Facebook and/or Flickr photos to use for a digitally-altered image showing how Osama Bin Laden might look. Thank you and good luck. xoxo

Your friend,
-Bowl

From the 8 December edition of the Chicago Tribune comes this gloriously ironic story, talking about how Chuck E. Cheese Pizza Time Theatres have become the new Fight Club. From the story:

in the past few years Chuck E. Cheese’s has developed a reputation as a sort of impromptu fight club, a place where fisticuffs break out almost as often as complaints about the pizza.

It apparently started after a Wall Street Journal story last December reported that a Chuck E. Cheese in Brookfield, Wis., had prompted more police calls in the previous year than any other restaurant in town. Now, The Obscure Store says that “Chuck E. Cheese brawls are so common they’re hardly ‘news.’”

Really, I got nothing. This is the kind of joke that just writes itself. The only thing I’m thinking of are the number of ways to insert the terms ‘Chuck E. Cheese’ and/or ‘Giant Rat’ into various Fight Club quotes. My top 5:

• I see the strongest and the smartest rats who have ever lived… and these vermin are singing happy birthday and waiting tables.
• I am the all-singing, all-dancing rat of this world…. I am the toxic waste by-product of God’s creation.
• Only in death are we no longer part of Project Playtime.
• The gyms you go to are crowded with mice trying to look like rats, as if being a rat means looking the way a sculptor or an art director says.
• Fuck Chuck E. Cheese! Chuck E’s polishing the brass on the Titanic; it’s all going down, man.

**

Although I’ve cut down on my publication of posts here over the past 6-8 months, it doesn’t mean I stopped writing entirely. To the contrary, I’ve probably been writing more, albeit more personal works not really suited for mass consumption (and subsequent regurgitation).

However, by both choice and necessity I’m settling down to (what I hope will be) a long term commitment here in Bangkok. I’m also becoming re-acclimated with the concept of living like most everyone else does — getting a job, getting an apartment, going to work, going to the gym, paying bills, hopefully one day accidentally getting shot in the head during a daring daytime robbery attempt — you know, the normal stuff.

That being said, I’ve found myself inside and on the computer much more than I have been in recent memory. Similarly, I’ve worn a suit and shoes probably more during the past 10 days than I have during the last 4 years combined. Honestly, I will always prefer sandals to closed-toe shoes, but I can’t say I don’t like the change more than just a little bit.

The whole “ex-lawyer surfer bum” thing does get old from time to time. And dressing like a grown-up again has also reminded me of just HOW MANY TIMES I’ve reinvented myself during the 5 years alone — which I sorta started writing about last month en route back to the States for 2 weeks. So I thought I’d put it up here (not that anyone’s really still reading this shit anyway).

** Yeah, the picture has absolutely nothing to do with this. I just like the idea of a polar bear taking a piss in a public bathroom.

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I’ve just started reading Sean Wilsey’s autobiography, “Oh The Glory Of It All.” From what I can tell from the first 100 pages or so, it’s not the most compelling of reads, despite the columns of many corporate shills professing otherwise. However, the way I figure it, I’m going to be spending the majority of the next two (2) days in the air (which I am now, en route from Saigon to Hong Kong), so I’ll have some free time on my hands to read.

At the outset, Wilsey goes through great pains to describe his parents and their history. What I find personally remarkable about them is how, although his parents took different paths, joined up briefly, and ultimately wound up in different places, they both seemed to have lived multiple lives. Both Wilsey’s mother and father were each married four (4) times. They each seemed to have separate families dating from different times in their lives. And they were both masters of reinvention.

It’s an issue I’m dealing with right now, actually. I’m leaving Asia, and heading back to the States, for the first time in a couple years. America is the country of my birth. It’s where I was raised. And where I was schooled. And it’s where I lived my entire life, up until just a few years ago. But going back now, it seems like a lifetime ago.

Although I’m still relatively young, I feel like I’ve already lived several lives at this point — Philly, Arizona, Alaska, Oregon, San Diego, California, Florida … geek, student, fisherman, slacker, law student, attorney, surfer, rebel. I’ve changed and altered myself almost every time I’ve moved that I can barely recognize those prior person(s). My latest, and most public, persona is what now lingers.

But I feel it turning. I have been for a while now. A new persona is needed mainly because I need money, and I need full-time work again. But, as I’ve mentioned several times over the course of the past year, it’s also because my current lifestyle is losing the appeal it once held for me. And my desire for change is metastasizing more each day. If things work out the way I hope they do, I can finally see the next reinvention — more than just the amorphous ‘need’ I’ve voiced previously.

One of the not entirely displeasing aspects of returning to where I grew up is seeing friends and relatives I haven’t seen in years, or even decades. Under normal circumstances, such visits would probably consist of nothing more than a discussion of who married whom, where whom is working, and other such general blather. However, given where I have been traveling and living for the past few years, such blather usually turns to questions of where I’ve been, where my favorite place is, what it’s like, how did I make the decision to leave my career and the States, and the like.

At times, I wish I could just gather up everyone I know in one room and take their questions all at once, so I wouldn’t have to answer the same questions over and over. At other times, I find myself enjoying the attention far too much, and falling into a self-righteous ex-pat characterture — regaling my audience with grand tales of adventure and daring and just how great things are in Asia.

Almost necessarily included in my description is just how much better things are outside the United States in terms of quality of life, inexpensive cost of living, cheap and plentiful health care, and lacking corporate overlords.

To be sure, most of the time, I’m just telling people what I want them to hear, and probably what we both wish is true. At times, it’s extremely easy to get caught up in one owns bullshit. Plus, I’m still a petty and petulant child in many respects, in that I want to prove how much better things are for me, and how much it sucks for everyone else too “weak” to have done what I did.

Those underlying issues notwithstanding, there are times when I’m reminded of just how true my comments regarding the state of affairs here in America really are. And just how bad things really have become, although most people here either can not see it, refuse to acknowledge it, or simply ignore it.

Chez just wrote a post, “Swine At The Trough”, as did Matt Tabibbi, “Goldman One-Ups Gordon Gekko, Says Jesus Embraced Greed” discussing just these issues — the absolute corporate ownership of the entire U.S. economy, its health care system (and associated benefits), and its absolute dismissal of the welfare of America’s general populous.

This is not to say that such things don’t take place in other countries. To be sure, a characteristic of the powerful has always been to hold down those without power, since the beginning of time. But this isn’t the issue.

The real issue, which is absolutely bewildering to me, is how the American public, cattle-like, have been brainwashed and stupefied to such a point that they don’t even realize how poorly they’re being treated. While at the same time, STILL giving their money and power willingly to the very people who have bewildered them into their current predicament. As Chez states, the mass of the American public is expendable. They just don’t realize it.

Once again, I haven’t lived abroad long enough to say this with absolute conviction, but I cannot see this happening in any other developed country in the world. They value their liberty far too much.

Perhaps it’s because Americans have been telling themselves that they are the best country in the world for far too long, that they can’t even begin to fathom just how far they have fallen. Perhaps I’m just a self-righteous asshole, determined to prove my way of thinking is the best. Who’s to say.

All I know is that, while the changing leaves and the brisk weather here in the Northeast are truly beautiful change of pace, I’m looking forward to returning to Asia. True, bribery and corruption may be a way of life over there as well, but at least the people there see those things for what they are, instead of desperately clinging to a perceived reality that no longer exists.

In honor of the newly baptized ‘Swine Flu’ pandemic emanating from the great State of Mexico (the 51st, I believe), I thought the following tune from one of the most unappreciated bands from the late 1980′s — Big Pig, may be appropriate.

The song is Breakaway, and for those of you under the age of 25, the video is from the opening credits to one of THE best movies of all time — 1989′s Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure (ironically, the clip is from a Spanish dubbed version of the movie).

Enjoy … and keep the hell away from me, you infected bastards.

Today epitomizes one of the many ways Asia is so different to the States.

Today — or rather, this evening — the electricity in the entire towns of Legion and Seminyak — two of the biggest tourist and/or expat locales here on Bali — lost electricity for most of the afternoon and evening. Indeed, it is now about 8:30 at night, I’m at at a coffee shop working off a generator, and the electricity is still not on back in my house.

Chances are, nobody in a position of power (no pun intended) has even been alerted yet to the fact the electricity is, in fact, not working. Granted, the electricity goes out here on a fairly regular basis, but only for 15-20 minutes at a time — most likely due to overloads in the power grid. But the last time something like this happened for an extended period of time (a power pole went down on my street), it took most of 1.5 days for anyone to even START working on repairing the problem (and another 2 days for the power to eventually return — by which time, I was already gone to Bangkok).

Yes, California is also now prone to ‘revolving power outages’. But the outpouring of righteous indignation and immediate demands for assistance I’ve witness there whenever THAT happens is absolutely ridiculous — even by California standards.

In contrast, here in Bali, nobody even seems to notice. Or care all that much … besides us Westerners. To wit, while the local family from whom I rent my villa took the outage as a call to make it an early evening, I simply had to get to a coffee shop and the internet, lest I be bored to death by the presence of candles and silence.

Sure, I like to play Asian, and I may raise my voice in defiance every once in a while, but as soon as the electricity goes down, my true colours come out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to my iced late and the latest episode of The Daily Show — who knows if I’ll have my HBO back on when I get back home.

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.

Several years ago, Alec Baldwin played a character in a Saturday Night Live skit where he was surprised to learn that his voice sounded gay to other people. Every time he recorded a voice message in a normal voice, the recorded playback piped back an incredibly feminine voice, with disco paying in the background. Although it was a pretty funny skit, I never really gave it any further thought.

But today, I went to a bookstore here in Bangkok to get something to read for my upcoming trip to Bali and Australia. While there, I struck up a conversation with a beautiful Thai woman there. We wound up having a great time, we exchanged phone numbers, and we spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out together. I had a great time.

But once again, I’m leaving Bangkok first thing tomorrow morning. Deja-fuckin’-vu, right?

I swear to all that is holy, if I meet yet another attractive girl RIGHT before either she or I move to another country, I’m gonna beat every last one of you fuckers about the head and neck with a dead flounder.

But even more disconcerting than the fact that I’ve no realistic chance of pursuing a relationship with this chick (yet again), is what she let slip later in the day. Apparently, the main reason why she felt comfortable enough to talk to me in the first place — she thought I was gay.

Me? Gay?

What? The? Fuck?

I don’t see it. I really don’t. But then again, that Kiwi girl I met in Vietnam last month told me something similar. Specifically, she said that I may have been here in Asia too long, because I apparently no longer have some of the more ‘masculine’ mannerisms used by Western blokes.

At first, I chalked that up to the fact she hasn’t spent much time here in Asia (and to my propensity for using obscure words most guys don’t otherwise use in everyday conversation). But now a Thai girl is also telling me the same thing.

Umm … yah, perhaps I may have been here too long.

It’s ironic, one of the things I sought to accomplish by coming to Asia (as well as exploring Buddhism and furthering my yoga practice) was to reduce my Western aggressive tendencies, and to stop acting like such a loud American prick, in general. And I also chose to move around so much because I no longer wanted to deal with all the drama bullshit that comes with having a long-term girlfriend.

So now … I tend not to get mad anymore when people bump into me on the street, or step on my toes on the train, or just act like pricks in general. And now my posture and mannerisms have indeed changed due to my extensive yoga practice. And I’ve also learned (except for the past month, of course) generally not to pursue women I’m attracted to because I know I won’t be sticking around in one location for too long.

Wait a sec — no aggressive tendencies? good posture? no more stupid pick up lines? — holy hell, I DO sound kinda gay!!

Fuck that shit!! No more yoga — I’m going back to the boxing gym. Time to start hitting people again. Hard!

And I tell ya’, this whole Buddhism ‘be nice to people’ shit is for faggots!

And to hell with the fact that I may never have a long term relationship out here — I’m gonna start chattin’ up the birds as much as I can, wherever I can, whenever I can. To hell with all that ‘deep feelings’ bullshit! … Let’s just be honest. You want it. I wanna give it to you. So let’s fuck!

Hey, I think it’s working!! I can feel the gayness draining out of me already!!

I went back to my apartment in Bali last week. However, for a variety of factors, this time it felt less like ‘home’ to me than ever. So I decided to leave again.

I’m heading to Borneo right now, with designs on climbing Mount Kinabalu later this week with some long lost friends whose schedules I’m really glad coincided with mine. It should be fun, and I’m looking forward to it.

Lately, I haven’t felt quite myself. There have been a great many thoughts going through my head that haven’t been there in a while — among them, a growing desire to visit home. Indeed, it’s been about 1.5 years now since I’ve been back to the States to see my friends and family. And it may be time for a visit.

So, with a 3 year, 20 country change of perspective, here’s a replay of the video from the very first post I ever put on this site (and a ‘re-link’ to the incredible story written by my friend Chez, which inspired much of this blog). Enjoy.

Zero 7 — Home

According to this brilliant website, the next big fashion trend for the tragically hip urban male is … wait for it, wait for it …

Mantyhose (as in ‘pantyhose for men’).

Yes, you read that right — MANTYHOSE.

Apparently aware of the stigma attached with wearing women’s underwear, the stated purpose of this website is to ‘accelerate the acceptance of male pantyhose as a regular clothing item.”

As such, the site provides — among other things — an illustrated male pantyhose wearer’s survival guide for any potential ‘mantyhosers’ wishing to successfully integrate their new tights fashion accessory into their wardrobe. Among the serving suggestions is this gem:

Act and behave as usual: this way you are communicating to others that you are in fact a usual guy.

Only a very few people will notice that you are wearing pantyhose. You should communicate with your clothes and behavior that you are not there to show off yourself in pantyhose, but rather to do your regular business – shopping, walking etc. You may also wear support pantyhose at the beginning for more “legitimacy”.

A usual guy? Legitimacy?

What. The. Fuck.

For the love of Christ! You’re wearing women’s underwear and you’re worried about legitimacy?!? Good god man, it’s a new year, a new President … a new beginning — get a fucking grip!!

Uggh … I just threw up a little in my mouth.

I know the title of this post is probably one that will be, or has already been, used many times this week, but really … WHAT THE FUCK?

After months of (in my opinion) useless demonstrations, things have been taken to a whole other level of insanity. Specifically, the anti-government group People’s Alliance for Democracy (PAD) has been leading protests against the government since May, accusing the government of being a front for ousted former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, and protesters surrounded the parliament building on Monday, forcing lawmakers to postpone their session.

Now, according to the latest from CNN:

Blasts at two Bangkok airports wounded four people early Wednesday, triggering the closure of the main international airport, authorities said.

The explosions come a day after thousands of anti-government protesters stormed the airports to protest the return of Thai Prime Minister Somchai Wongsawat from the APEC summit in Peru.

One blast occurred at Suvarnabhumi Airport at 5 a.m. (2200 Tuesday GMT), an airport official said. One person was wounded in that attack.

Continued protests caused authorities to cancel all incoming and outgoing flights there.

I know I kid a lot, but this is really fucked up — especially considering it’s taking place in a Bhuddist country (and somewhere I called home as recently as last week).

For the first time in a while, I’m glad to be anywhere BUT Bangkok right now. All I can do now is hope for quick and non-violent outcome, and of course that all my friends in Thailand emege from this unscathed … soon!

When I first started writing this blog a couple years back, it was ostensibly for three reasons: (1) to practice my narrative writing skills, (2) to provide a public outlet, however small, for all my outrage against the American political and social landscape, and — what I considered to be — the unfortunate state of my life in general; and (3) to make fun of Britney Spears.

Now, considering the fact that I am in the midst of a 3 year ‘surf sufari”, Americans wholeheartedly voted against the Republican, neo-conservative agenda that has been poisoning the world for the past 8 years, and that Britney Spears will apparently be successful in conducting her comeback number 23, that leaves me with just ‘working on my writing skills’ as the main emphesis for this blog.

And anyone who has been reading this dribble (like the above, for example) can tell how THAT’S going … yah, not so well. Ever since I left the States in an effort to find the perfect wave, my writing has become pretty stale, and fairly one-dimentional.

In fact, it’s much worse that that. It’s not just my writing that has become one-dimentional, it’s my entire being. And while I enjoy the idea of simplifying my life to the extent where I can focus my energies into only 1-2 things that are really important to me, it’s now reached a level where I can’t even speak to people — good friends of mine — unless the conversation is about surfing or yoga for surfing (okay, so maybe 1 and 1/2 dimentional).

It has taken the election to sort of rattle me out of this self-induced slumber — I never thought I’d again be interested in politics, or anything else for that matter. But I guess recognizing you have a problem is the first step in correcting it — isn’t that what they say at all the 12 step programs?

Yeah, I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I’m late for my yoga class, so if you’ll excuse me …