Did you know that before this blog was called Flum, and before it was called Flumptinsher, and before it was called Frumptonshire, it was called Escape to Borneo??? Borneo must have registered in my subconscious as a proper place to escape to. Jungle. Vines. Swinging from vines.
I won't sit around and lie to you saying I never imagined I was Tarzan when younger. O man, Tarzan. And Jane. I would sit on the lawn mower for two and a half hours, mowing the lawn, thinking of how much I would love Jane. That was back when my heart hadn't been tarnished by destruction. But guess where I'm headed? Yes, you guessed right: BORNEO!!!
Sarawak, to be technical about it. Kuching, the city, to be even more technical. I'll be there for three weeks. They have orangutans there, or so I hear. I once saw an orangutan in a zoo, and he was fondling himself. Just a few days ago I saw some monkeys humping. Chimps have the biggest balls of all primates, because they hump the most. Homo Sapiens have the biggest shlongs, because they act as display, and therefore attract mates and ward off predators. It's too bad, in our civilization, that we have taken to covering up our junk. Too bad mainly for the guys with big long sausages because that is probably their only attempt at power. So now they have to buy trucks, or lambos. They can't rely on their intellect, nor their wit, nor even their fashion choices :(
I won't sit around and lie about it, my shlong is more like a shlort. I've gotten used to it. You know who else has a real small dong? Michelangelo's David. And I drive a Honda Dupree. So, actually, it's the guys with big dongs who have to compensate for wearing pants. Baha.
When I was in Australia, after serving a 3 day Vipassana meditation course I met Mark Kingsley
who told me he'd been to Borneo. He said all the animals could hear the humans in the jungle advancing, and so left before they got there to take pictures or whatnot. Whereas, all the slugs were desperately trying to catch up to them. He said a humans blood is more nutritious or potent than the other animals around, so when they attach themselves to a man, they can grow as fat as footballs. If the CFL or NFL played football with leeches, I think it'd be more interesting.
In Australia, sleeping outside, a leech found me sleeping and sucked from my eyelid. I awoke, horrified, and in my horror, I flicked it against a brick wall. It had grown fat, but not football sized. It was more of a puddle. A contained, moveable puddle of my own blood, now Leech.
I wear my hair long. Like a caveman. Like Tarzan (although I don't share his build.) Once my dad called me the wild man from Borneo. Well guess what, Dad, your nightmares are coming true, bitch. Baha. Soon I'll be swinging from vines and eating coconuts, thumping on my chest, yodeling... doing drugs, shit like that.
Hopefully you are well.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Malaysia has greeted me with a brown bubbling brook from my arsehole. I won't go into too much detail, but they have squat toilets here, so I get an up-close view of my exoduses, and if I push real hard it looks like milk from a cow, but despite what your dad may tell you, it's not chocolate milk.
I was planning on finding a job here, but I don't know. There are cockroaches in the street, and that's not a metaphor. There are dead rats in the alleys. There are cameras in the door. Cameras in the soup. Cameras in the fly...
It's much cheaper here than Thailand, except for beer, of course, because that place is like some kind of paradise. And I'm not sure but I think people here speak at least three languages.
If I did get a job here I'd be making $2000 USD/month. Baha. That's 500 a week. That's 80 a day. That's ten an hour.... Just wait .... That's what I was making at my last job!!! Oh well.
I was really starting to dislike Canada based solely on the prices of cigarettes and alcohol, so now whenever I have the same thoughts or feelings of dislike, I'll just remember my time here in Malaysia.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Sometimes I like to imagine that I'm a specially trained renegade. RENEGADE!!! And I spend my times in the mountains or forested hills, or forested mountains, killing things. For example, with my sniper rifle, from a distance, I can take someone's eye out. That's just one example. Another example: Like Che Guevara, I eat hawks. That's how goddamn tough I am. Now the Prey eats the prey, how you like it, hawk? Then I catch sharks with my bare hands, I take rides on their fins, I wrastle them out of the ocean and kill them right there on the beach, and eat it, and the tourists all watch and are horrified.
Specially trained vigilante. There's many of us. It's hard work in the mountains all alone. Eating hawks and sharks. So, when we come down from the mountain, or hill, and make our way to town, the proprietors try and lure you with their wares. Like beer, mainly. And other things to drink and eat. And maybe things with pockets... You know life in the mountains is hard, there is nary a drink to drink, except for water, but fuck that.
Now here I am, leaving Koh Samui. I spent 21 days there, and got in three violent fights. I'm happy to be leaving.
Leaving by pick-up truck taxi, ferry, bus, train, bus, taxi. The transportation transports us to other modes of transportation!!! It's like the seventh layer of alternate reality! You know transportation in dreams is very important...
A specially trained vigil-ante, and hear I am at the army surplus store in Surathani. I just bought a vest full of pockets, and a pocket you can wear on your belt that says SWAT. It's U.S. Army. Bought for cheap, probably, or maybe even donated. Also, the ferry was a Japanese one. An old one, lounge singing one.
So it's like my imaginings are manifesting themselves. Hear I am, to make celebrate, and it's actually happening!!!
Also it was my birthday yesterday here in Thailand, but in North America my b-day is today! I'm glad I exist, and I hope you are glad I exist also, haha. Just kidding. I'm glad you exist!
I think I have to leave. They are so polite here in Thailand it hurts. The proprietors here are police, and offered me beer. I'm using their wifi for free. And their toilet. TOILET!!! They live in their shops. 1400 baht is like 50 USD? I don't know. I'm so happy to have all those extra pockets now, you don't even know.
Sunday, June 09, 2013
Some people say seeing the elephants is sad... maybe even as sad as the Sad Snow Monkey.
Elephants are fine in captivity. They get so many bananas. In German And in french, Banana is Ananas or Anana, depending.
Okay. Tusks. Whatever.
The elephants are fine. Deal with it.
Saturday, June 08, 2013
I just finished reading The Paris Wife, by Paula McLain. Paula McLain? Paula McLame, more like it. Haha, just joking, it was an okay book.
It was about Ernest Hemingway's first wife Hadley Richardson. She is 9 years older than him. Together they have a child named John Hadley Nicanor. They are together for 5 years and then get divorced. Ernest will go on to have three more wives. Ernest fell in love with Pauline Pfeiffer when he was still married to Richardson. He thought maybe he could be like Ezra Pound and have a mistress and a wife, and everyone would be happy about it. Wrong! Richardson won't have any of it. Hemingway gives the royalties to her for The Sun Also Rises in parting.
The Sun Also Rises was based on a trip he and Richardson took to Pamplona, Spain to see the Bull fights with friends. Ernest loved them, apparently. He loved how the matadors would look death in the face, how bullfighting made him feel alive. Just like avalanches do, and hunting lions... and being poor.
Hemingway was a reporter for the Toronto Star. We like to make sure that's known here in Canada. He hated it, and thought Toronto was boring, so he stayed only four months, then left back to Paris.
Hemingway was also friends with F. Scott Fitzgerald and Gertrude Stein. He alienates everyone, and cuts ties with his mentors.
I've read The Sun Also Rises, The Old Man and the Sea, and Indian Camp. They are all so great.
He made himself into a myth.
Then he shot himself, which will make it okay for others to do it, too. Like Hunter S. Thompson.
Friday, June 07, 2013
|Just taking the monkeys for a walk because that's how goddamn hot we are.|
|Just taking the monkeys for a walk because that's how goddamn hot we are.|
|Just taking the monkeys for a walk because that's how goddamn hot we are.|
Thursday, June 06, 2013
Walking down the main tourist street, a one way street, but if you ride a scooter, the laws don't apply.
I've rented a scooter. You don't even need a drivers license. You don't even need a helmet.
Walking down the main tourist street, or any street really, you get solicited by Thai Masseuses. One USD = 30 THB, so, a meal in a restaurant costs 2 USD. A Thai massage costs 10 USD. Beer costs 1 USD, or 2, depending...
Shop after shop of Thai Masseuses. I'm here for the low season, because it's so damn hot. OMG. Just imagine a sauna, and then walking around in a sauna, and drinking coffee or tea in the sauna, that is how hot it is.
I was told there would lots of drugs here, but I was told that just for Marijuana, they give a strict fine... but the cops can be bribed. I saw some cops. Two of them had to ride one scooter, haha! They were well dressed, but still...
When I was in Australia, I read in the papers of the lady who was dumb-dumb enough to try and carry drugs over the border. Was she dumb-dumb, or lying? I don't know.
On the beach, dudes walk with Batik, and binders full of Henna sketches. Now I know that they are trying to sell Marijuana. If anyone at all in Canada tried selling me Marijuana, I would probably comply, and the seller and I would probably have fun getting high together and telling eachother our weird thoughts. But here, no thanks. I don't want your Marijuana. You must think I'm a Dumb-dumb.
But the Thai Masseuses are alluring...
Wednesday, June 05, 2013
Hopefully you have enjoyed your most recent celebrations. It's time for a new rotation.
Tiger Eye. Tiger Balm.
Ok. Tiger Eye soothes, and when crushed into a fine powder, and when added to Tiger Balm, it makes your legs burn, and the mosquitoes don't want you anymore.
Or, if Tigers are in a zoo, all they do is sleep, because their meals are provided. And eating or hunting just might be the purpose of their lives.
Have you ever read Life of Pi, by Yann Martel? I really loved that book. I had to read it for an English class, and was so sad at the time, I read it twice. The teacher gave us a selection of books to read and write papers on, but not everyone could read the same book, so it was first come first serve at the sign up sheet, and there were a couple of big fat ladies in the class who I wanted to stay clear of so they wouldn't squish me. Also, I tend not to rush in public. So I had to write my paper on another novel. Half a Life by V.S. Naipaul. Oye. And at the time I didn't know what the hell he was writing about. The class was all about diaspora. The teacher was real hot. We also had to read The English Patient. And at the time, for whatever reasons, I couldn't concentrate on anything. SO I didn't know what the hell Michael Ondattje was writing about. Also, it's a very boring book... and movie.
The teacher was a turn on. And I was one of two guys in the class. The other guy was a big fat guy who wore overalls all the time. What a joke. I hated that class.
But Life of Pi was great. It's about a tiger on a life raft with a boy, or teenager, and their relationship. The boy eats the tigers poo, haha! And together they find an algae island full of meercats. It's all about survival, and eating, and sleeping, and relationships.
If we take Life of Pi as an analogy for Tiger Eye, then we know what we are in for: Lost at sea on a life raft with a tiger. !!!
Yann Martel recently published another novel, Beatrice and Virgil. It's about a taxidermist, a stuffed monkey, and a stuffed donkey, and the narrator. It's real weird.
So, we can expect interesting relationships, new learning, and dire conditions. And some weirdness. And diaspora, which means moving to a new place or circumstances.
Tuesday, June 04, 2013
With comedy by Michael Showalter, Erotica.
I think I 'll start a new series called Babes. Where I film babes doing banal things for a total of 80 minutes. Then I'll edit it and add music... and maybe even sound effects.
What do you think???
Monday, June 03, 2013
|Giant Flying Beetle|
Giant Flying Beetle. Then I hit it with my camera and it falls on it's back. It's too weak to right itself. So I think the smelly dog eats it. Still, a very scary event.
Walking on the shoreline, the most ambiguous of lines, I see topless ladies there letting the ocean caress their privates.
And in the ocean, swimming, at dusk, I swim with my eyes open, and imagine a shark coming to get me. Now that I've visited the aquarium, I'm confident that all the sharks are rather harmless, bottom feeders, not great white sharks, and am relieved.
Also, swimming everyday, my left ear is fucked. My ear had been plugged before. You know it affects the entire left side of your body. Just the ear... My ears bled when I was too young to speak. I've had troubles with my ears all my life. And here I am again... I roll up durable paper, moisten it, and put that in my ear, but to no effect. If anything, this only the packs the wax tighter.
And there are so many strange critters here. I just want to do some typing, so I have to apply Tiger Balm to my legs so that the mosquitoes don't eat me alive.
Now I can hear the blood pounding in my ear. Fuck that!
Before empiricism, in medicine, there were the four humours: Black Bile, Yellow Bile, Phlegm, and Blood. And it was an imbalance in the humours that caused sickness. And smoking tobacco is a drying agent. It dries the humours, so that if you suffer from runny nose, or explosive diarrhea, then maybe you should take up smoking, lol. But guess what, I am doing the smoking, and my ear is still fucked. It's from all that ocean water. O God. So I do ear candling, and that helps for naught. THe positives are that if I sleep on my right side, with my fucked ear exposed to sounds, well then I can sleep extra well because all I can hear is the blood rushing in there, and my own fucked up thoughts.
Last night, for example, Saw hangs her shirt to dry in the room. Having the shape of a human, for some reason I think the shirt is a human who has entered through the window. Seeing it, I shout at the shirt to leave, but it's just a shirt, and can't leave. Then I think the shirt has invited in some of her pets, so I shout all the harder. "Speakey Engrish!!!" I shout, but the shirt doesn't understand. It's just a shirt. And her pets are just plastic bags. Still...
Sunday, June 02, 2013
A black dog. He wears a collar. When the fireworks go off every single night, he leaves the porch, or patio, or deck, or whatever, and takes off to the outdoor bathroom. And in the morning, when the cleaner arrives, she kicks him out with nary a ceremony and not a few unkind words.
The dog farts, and Saw thinks it's my shoes. She desperately wants to clean my shoes. "If you clean my shoes," I tell her, "I'll take you somewhere quiet, and beat you to death with them..." ... no, I don't actually say that, but I think it. Is that wrong?
I am the year of the dog. They are very loyal, they can also lick their own privates. Here is a joke: A man sees a dog licking it's own privates. The man says, "I wish I could do that." His friend says, "I'm sure the dog wouldn't mind if you asked politely." Lol!!
Then there was the Giant Flying Beetle, straight out of Egypt. It gave us a real scare, because it seemed to ant to fly into our brains.... There's enough beetles in my brains already, thank-you.