I don’t notice the mosquitoes anymore. That must be it.
Certainly it’s been a long time since I actually saw one. I sleep, I don’t hear them, no buzzing around the ears. I get bites, it seems, the only evidence is usually a small red spot, no bump, no itching. If I don’t happen to see them, I don’t know that they are there.
“Mosquimotos,” one of my Thai friends calls them. I think that it’s such a wonderful word that I don’t correct her. MOS-KEE-MO-TOES, like little winged samurai, or tiny Mr. Moto’s with evil intent and penetrating proboscises. Such a more entertaining word!
I get bit occasionally by things with more power, more presence, more evil intent. Those leave larger wounds, surrounded by colossal lumps of histamine fluid, one inch across, lasting a day or two, and itching to beat the band. Spiders? A mystery.
These are the little, inconsequential things that I prefer to write about these days, the reason that this blog is rather dull. Maybe I’m a little dull myself, but not that dull. Does Khun Fred have anything to say today? Or is Khun Fred just fucking around, as usual. Cutesy little videos; fun photos; YouTube music videos; bullshit observations; South-East Asian marginalia. Dull, dull, dull.
Some day perhaps I will see my way clear to speak freely. To address more serious matters. To speak about the reality of Boomers facing late-middle-age, or, (dare I say it?) encroaching old age, our shared reality of marginalization, decrepitude, irrelevance, failure, and lost opportunities? Maybe I should explore my own nightmare world, which is fueled by obsessive worrying and a hyperactive cortex that knows only degrees of panic. Does anyone think that that would be a good idea?
Some people may wonder why I like living in Asia. Consider this: I get along okay in Thai, but I could never begin to describe these things in Thai. And no one that I know speaks English well enough to discuss these ideas in my own blessed language. So it’s a dream world really, the world that I live in. A world of smiles and platitudes, all sweetness and light, a vast, shallow ocean of interaction, limited by lack of language ability and enforced by the local custom of avoiding those emotions at all cost. Limited to a happy world of snacks and good cheer.
It’s like a dream come true, really.