Pattaya

I understand that it’s been a long time since I’ve written.  A lot has happened and at the same time I feel as if no time has gone by at all, like I’m still stuck on a dirt road somewhere, hair matted,  brown dust in my brown eyes, hundreds of emails to respond to, lifeless with friends hanging in the balance.  I always, always feel like I need a shower here and for a myriad of reasons.  

I find myself not wanting to start at the beginning because that seems ancient to me, a beginning that I would not want to remember, a beginning that is maroon and bleak and has gotten browner and browner since, like a forgotten blood stain.  This place is like a forgotten blood stain, the Tijuana of Thailand, the asshole of the world, filled with the assholes of the world, but let me start at the beginning, even it means playing that low bass music that mistakenly rhymes with my heartbeat, taking out a bottle of wine, and trying to find a place to sit in my own home.  Trying to find a place to sit and trying to find some air to breathe because this place surely (surely as the air is polluted and the prostitutes roam hungry like they’re looking for their long lost watering hole, surely as the night never comes but the Russians always do) has reserved its limited air capacity for others.