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.
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7 comments:
I feel much better since I gave up all hope.
-E
You think yu'd have deep more meaningful discussions in the good ol' USA? Ha! You've been gone too long. The country was so dumbed down over the last 25 years that anything not about TV, Lady Ga Ga, comic-book movies and funny kitties on YouTube goes way over the heads of 99.9% of the populace. That dream-like state of superficiality goes on day-to-day here too, Fred. Luckily, most deal with it by amusing, denying, or distracting themselves to death.
The human condition is irremediable, so hope is arguably foolish. And I'm as chagrined as anybody about the state of American discourse. Absent the hope of things getting better, I just try to remain calm, except for the occasional venting of steam.
There is an off on your remote control so stop complaining about our dumb world and pick up a book. If you want friends who inspire be inspiring.
But how do I change the channel on the remote for Reality? This show sucks.
Thanks for the help, anon. I was all out of snide there for a while.
Obligated to discuss our deepest desires, backed into corners by truth wielding reality TV junkies, Glen Becks everywher . . . s
the hara
OC
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