sunnah somewhere.

in some cultures it must be considered polite to inform people when you have fantasised about them. probably anonymously. won't you want to know? hello, thank you for the version of you that you have left dancing in my head, it's been good times. will you take cash or kind?

chinese new year isn't part of any such culture. it is also way too intense. i have subwoofs for relatives, from ages 5 to 73.

"when will you treat me to drinks?!", screeched 2nd grandaunt (er jiu mu, if i'm not wrong), meaning, "when are you getting married?!"

"tell me again, tell me again, TELL ME AGAAAAAIN", screeched one of twins, having gotten twice as loud with each of his 5 birthdays. okay okay, i say. you are too cute. the monster won't eat cute.

"DON'T TOUCH THAT REMOTE! AND DON'T EAT IT!!", screeched 'uncle' at his kid. fatherhood doesn't seem to be equally kind, sometimes it taps some of the dudes into their motherly sides instead.

In those enlightened cultures, i bet there'd less anorexia and impotency and tummy control underwear and red lights on and fat asses and fights, because i bet knowing you're attractive would soothe most women problems and appease all manly egos.

like brothers on a hotel bed.

I baked Apple Galette for a picnick! It was burnt, looked like a pizza, laughed at buuuuut yummy enough. NEXT: Pear Galette. (Galette/: french for "pie dish? we no so fancy, here, save yourself the trouble like so", "ooooh sodesneh.")

Say hi to my black coral bracelet too. it's that wild-looking cutie up there - my mom squirmed and called it a black slug. My dreadlocks? "Worms on your head!" The next time i come home from somewhere you just know i have a quest, to complete the trio.




I'm going to try to make this (minus sleeves) out of black satin! also, plus zipper and proper waistband.

multi-pitch, ao nang tower.

& these will be my feet in a likewise photo taken with a kickass camera i will own one day! (I'm looking at you, Ricoh GR2. or Lumix LX3, insists timmatits.) (goal: within the next 3-5 years) (if this photo did not make you shudder violently you have no soul) (or fear. power to you, but you're still a bloody tragedy.)




I just like this Frida painting a whole bunch.


Caught up with some people recently. I'd lost track of how much i genuinely like my friends. I'm looking at you, Cat and Kamiliah, Fay and Pam. Conversations go on for hours and i'm exhausted from laughing. I have friends with blazing smarts and electric hearts, you should be so jealous, of them and my asskicking galettes.

railay is a rejection of their reality.

the inbetweens, the lazy dream state and the dipping, weaving through the air ripe with musky couples. hopping from one slippy, damned scary barnacle to the next, only vaguely knowing where next to go, besides not down. t-shirts warm with the sun and worn down with salt. at sunset, red tracks open to the beach on the other side of the world, Fiji. exploring a cave because Tik had no idea where it ends. storms at sea that whips inland and kills the mosquitoes' buzz for once. climbing up anything. trusty directions: walk straight up the path, past the walls lovingly adorned in broken glass on your right, past the lecherous man at the officious-looking cave who'd snatch a kiss you're that naive, past another low wall lovingly adorned in barbed wires and mocking monkeys, and find the beach you swear upsidedown exists uphill, go on then. watch thai boys watching the lady bottoms go by and eat breakfast with them. sand fine enough to snort. sharing a mat with the king of the railay climbing circle. tapping the anchor ring and then gaping at the horizon ending in mists both eastward and westward. evening gossip over masala tea, suddenly the pretty ladies make venomous, pragmatic sense. working my butt off happily for 20 bahts. the shaving comedy. don't piss now, there's a naked lady canoeing over! 2am from tonsai to railay west, the engine of the long tail being cut, drifting silently into the shore past the silhouettes of anchored long tails, wading towards the lights, turning to wave good night to the boatman and the always-lit limestone walls. errands taking longer with every passing day... and every new acquaintance. porch philosophy & waxing windowseat lyrical, is just what we do. taking coffee with chaow's wisdoms, his 'why not' & 'hot and cool' theories. chasing Orion with our eyes. chasing bangtet all over town. chatting easily while walking uphill. showering in the dark. the requisite break to cool down for anyone walking in from anywhere being the best source of information on the isl - wait, no - peninsula, sometimes.

i can't offer you full sentences for how much Railay welcomed me with this time, just selfish snippets. (Yeeeess, Ma,) i know i don't quite belong there, not by a long shot. but having been there i'm wiggling to see the rest of the world in spurts now & end each travel with a Chang in hand, watching the sun set behind the boys playing soccer on Railay West.

just as soon as i work up the cash.

I haven't unpacked.

In Suk11, a Backpackers Hostel along Sukhumvit Rd.
Maneuvering around Sex Tourists and their willing prey was eye-opening and more humourous than you'd expect.

I'm back. My backpack is itching for more - dusty backlanes, salty breezes, curiously tame stray cats who walk into your bamboo bungalow and straight into the backpack's recesses to investigate, the sweat of climbing a cursed-tall hill - more of it all. But my wallet is not just empty, it owes people money. Oh miho no, you have to plan much better next time. Dream little Gobi, wait a little longer for money to be made. Before the year is out, i'd be out of here to somewhere: me, my 45L backpack with stressed-out seams and this time, my own camera to document everything with. I'm eying the same model Raf has, i've never taken such beautiful photos in my life.

In the meantime, money. Forget a career for now, it's not like I honestly ever cared. I've been irresponsible to my friends too, I'm going to fix that.