Lotus.

The Lotus our Mee Baan (maid), Noi, grew. Housed in a bowl of slimy mud, in our front courtyard (if you could call it that). My Ma would be proud... probably prouder if I kept it alive myself.

Let Them Eat Cake

Personally, I think they should teach more history here. As we are doomed to repeat... yadda yadda. Although it didn't seem to work for the last credit card economic downturn, I know. Please note the financial crisis of 1929... etc. We haven't seem to have learnt a thing.

This was taken in a makeshift mall, set up across from what I like to think of as 'White Man's Stake' on Sukhumvit, The Emporium. It's rumored to be stock that has been saved from the malls which no longer exist, or suffered from a case of the fires.

You get the drift...

Things we do while living in Asia.

Yell… a lot. Preferably in your own company so you don't 'lose face'.

Drive like shit, and not apologize to anyone, because everyone drives like shit.

After about 3 months stop haggling over 30 cents… it's 30 fucking cents people, give it to them, the little people make like 6 bucks a day.

Listen to drunk people talk shit. It's probably the most decent conversation you will get in your native English language.

Love the maid. She is awesome. Luckily she is naturally acclimatized and can cook in shit hot heat. Try not to make funny faces when she cooks what smells like steaming dog turd for herself. It's probably a local delicacy in her country.

Cry… inside. Again, preferably in your own company. Asians don't deal well with the waterworks of emotions.

Avoid the heat by running the aircon day in day out, over what they call the 'summer' period. There is really only two seasons here: Hot, and Fucking Hotter. With a bit of wet chucked in. Freak out on a monthly basis when you get the unreasonably expensive electricity bill.

Lower your standard of people who you would call 'friends', otherwise you won't have any.

When a mini civil war occurs, stay inside and keep running that aircon, praying to 'the big man of your choice', that the warring parties don't burn down the local power exchange. Because you will have no cool air or webbertudes. They won't be serving food over the internet if a curfew occurs, therefore, previous flood experience is good for survivalists who can get through long periods of time being housebound. Stock up before the Asians start 'panic buying' all the 2 minute noodles, and pushing each other out of the way for cabbages. Remember to buy candles.

Get used to the fact that doing anything simple… SIMPLE, will take a day of your time.

Get more used to the fact that doing anything bureaucratic, or something a bit harder than simple, will take up to 3 days of your time, and there will be a lot of kicking and screaming involved (at home, in your own company).

Get used to being fucked over and extorted by the lawyer that your company chooses to use. Expect to pay 10 times the amount that you normally would have to, if you could speak and read the fucking language.

After trying to accomplish something simple, and kicking and screaming in frustration (in your own company), then complaining to your husband, realize that him saying 'welcome to my world', becomes an everyday occurrence. Laugh at the absurdity of the situation when something is actually accomplished.

Glow in schadenfreaude on the rare occasions you can share the frustration around.

Realise that globalisation has occurred. Buying something here in a mall will be on par with buying it in any other country worldwide. Acknowledge that there are a shit load of high end shops that you will never be able to afford to shop in, let alone the little people who make 6 dollars a day. Display wonderment at the fact that people in Asia can afford, and do shop in these places.

Get disgusted with the 'Hiso' attitude of 'Let them eat cake'. Try to avoid these people at all costs, they will make you feel like slashing your wrists, up the tracks not across. Especially avoid the vapid, vacuous, vain younger generation. They are, quite plainly, oxygen thieves.

Get disgusted with the little people holding a capital city, the main business and travel hub, hostage for over 2 and a half months. Ruining all business and taking up the amount of real estate, which is comparable if you lived in Sydney to: Lower Darlinghurst, Hyde Park, Pitt St Mall all the way down to RPA hospital. Feel slightly terrorized by their ongoing erratic behavior.

Quietly celebrate the protesters burning down the banks and stock exchange - sticking it to the man. Feel sorry for the small businesses, their brothers and sisters, who initially supported their protesting, that the people of a particular colored shirt persuasion, then burnt to the ground.

Come to terms with every bar being a business opportunity for a poor Asian chick. Embrace it, these women are quite good at english conversation, they are nice, protective of loyal customers, and rack up your pool balls for you. NB: you will never beat them at pool or Connect Four.

As a white chick, get used to the fact that if you are over 22 you will be seen as: mature, overly opinionated, mouthy, too expensive an investment with no return, and therefore not worth the effort. Relinquish any idea that you have any hope of 'getting some' in this country. Especially when it's being handed out by 18 year old Asian chicks for next to nothing, with a lot less hassle. On the odd occasion, appreciate that some dude who you are talking to, taking notice of you. Yeah... you probably won't be getting laid.

*EDIT* my husband would like me to point out here, how lucky I am to be married, and that I'm the recipient of as much 'great' sex as I desire. Which means, to me, young 18+ year old girls could come in handy for 'headache duty'.

Drink lots of water everyday. You sweat like a mother fucker in this relentless muggy, hot climate.

Enjoy the many house guests which will come through to stay, they provide light relief and entertainment. Avoid, at all costs, going shopping with them.

Get used to power cuts, brown outs, the airconditioner failing on a regular basis, no house phone because it just won't work, even when the phone company tells you it works, things taking a really long time, people always being late, bad traffic, everyone using bad traffic as an excuse for being late, computers cutting out because of the heat. Mostly get used to the fact that you probably won't be achieving much on a day to day basis. And come to terms with it. And be able to fucking laugh over it. Otherwise you will have a heart attack, stroke out, strain some muscle by kicking something, or just feel generally frustrated all the time.

Ironically, get used to the white man complaining... because they do that shit A LOT.

Again…love the maid because she is AWESOME.

Anatomically Incorrect Barbie Does a Bad Bad Thing.

An Ode To Mother on Mothers Day: Or Why I Don't Camp.

Hi Mum, Happy mother's day. Remember this one – our first castle? How's the serenity?

Remember when the tornado came, and hurled the house away, and I ran off with that dingo and found some weird arse friends who were looking for courage, heart, and braaaaains? There was a whole bunch of little people jumping up and down, squeaking weirdly and telling us to follow some gilt road to a green city where we would meet some odd dude with superhuman powers, that could get us home. Then I returned home really sick with a horrible fever... oh wait, no, shit, that was the Wizard of Oz.

Or a really strong mushroom trip.

Funnily enough, I do remember watching that movie in our first castle, on our old black and white TV, tucked up in your bed (the view was better from the loft), a bit sickly and feeling sorry for myself. And you were there, (looks around) and you were there, (looks around) - and you ... nope, that was it.

On the upside, our castle was a total upgrade from the army tent we were living in. Which probably wouldn't have weathered too many more of those nasty tornados.

This mother, is unfortunately why I wont camp - EVER. That and the shovel being the toilet hole digger with tobacco leaves used as toilet paper.

But what a sweet, and innocent and weird ass time huh? Those were the days. The bits I remember started forming me as the person I am today (for better or worse). These are good memories that we can laugh about.

We did have that pet snake for a bit of course, and that crazy fucking neighbour with his shotgun, weimaraner dog, and the bitch of a wife who peed into jars. Could have done without them, she was nasty... *looks around* and he was pretty fucking crazy.

But look at me in that photo, how proud am I looking out our new castle? I love you mum, you're brazilliant. Happy mothers day, and no I wont go camping probably ever again. I like hot running water, and flushing toilets. Fridges and mod cons. Internet and media sharing. Aircons and shops close enough to walk to to buy cigarettes at. What a ponsie wuppie I have become.

You, how ever, much braver than me. Fuckin onya mumsy. *Applauds*

Glorious Blood

Weird photo shoot that I have been wanting to do for ages. The total anti glamour shit, being disgusting and rolling around in 5 liters of pigs blood, with entrails, and miscarrying squid, chopped up fishy bits, and pork ribs, or ribs of some dead thing and watermelon, and yoghurt, and milk and baby oil... it all came strangely together.

I think I have been watching way to many Dargento and Romero films, with WAAAAAAAAAAAAAY too much horror blood and guts.

After about 5 washes and 3 shampoos I was still finding bits of fish gizzards in my hair.

Dao was the best though. What other crazy arse chic would go down to the

thai food market a day before hand and start pre ordering pigs blood "5 Litre please".

Her line was consistently "I think we need more Blood Andy".

Slaughterhouse Romance

Look Into My Eyes.

Therapy Doesn't Work.

The Wire's Modern Babylon.

Recently, in a period of darkness, I retired to my cave and watched a few series of different programs… I like to call it "research", but lets face it, really I am covering up the severe depression and a self induced case of agoraphobia I encounter occasionally. "Outside" with the "bright light" is just not a viable option in times like these.

On this occasion I had the delightfulness of being introduced to The Wire (again - but this time the full series), I seem to have arrived unfashionably late to the party though. Watching this masterpiece not only caused me to think about the state of things i.e America in its microcosm, and by extension - the world in macro form, but I was also incredibly inspired by and could appreciate the great amount of craftsmanship that went into making such a program as this. Probably not inspired enough to get off my fat ass and do something entirely productive just quite yet though.

I watched it like a fucking junky: greedy, obsessively, with little self restraint, which seemed fitting enough considering the content, devouring 60 odd hours of television within about four days all up. It was such a chronic addiction that 20 consecutive hours of TV staring in one day brought on a self inflicted and well deserved migraine, most probably from eyestrain. Like any crack ho, I was undeterred though.

It totally inspired me cerebrally, even though for the week after I had the weirdest and most violent dreams. Woven tales of killing people, being in gangs, blood shed, and detective stories. These slumber narratives were engagingly descriptive and riveting to be in, but relatively disturbing too.

A few days after the final episode, I woke up having some kind of epiphany… as watching this program stimulates it's audience to THINK with their BRAINS (alien concept I know). It felt like I was having an epiphany, but really, I don't think I am smart enough to epiphanise about anything anymore - television killed that part of my brain which imagines stuff, the internet killed my memory, and I don't do drugs anymore so the pituitary gland isn't giving me any Mandalbrot fractals - shit out of luck there too.

In waking, I ruminated about what David Simon was trying to achieve, and in which I think he did spectacularly. His back ground in investigative journalism ushered him into the world of creating, producing, and writing The Wire - a serialized novel format created into a television program, which he had total creative control over. Whose characters are spectacular in embracing their human frailties, the dialogue they speak savvy, colloquial, poetic and true. The actors playing them... totally believable, you embrace and love them whole heartedly, or are absolutely horrified by them, and relish in the hatred they incite, either way they are all real.

It reminded me of something I studied in University, in my 'Sex and Scandal' unit for history so many years ago (the salacious shit are the only details I can remember from any courses I studied). I decided The Wire drew parallels to what W.T. Stead did in the late 1800's with his Newspaper - The Pall Mall Gazette, and the serialized articles he wrote: 'The Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon'. Also a first for its time.

Both set about to illustrate the human condition in their day and age, although 130 odd years apart (you do the math, I am way too lazy).

Reflectively speaking, David Simon was not trying to be salacious in the detail of his program even though the content seems that way. Really, he was just trying to recreate the realities of the declining, modern, shitty American city - which could have been any American city, in this case Baltimore (such a shockingly different Baltimore compared to John Waters' overtly camp, musical, transvestite Baltimore with Divine, Debbie Harry, Iggy Pop, or Ricky Lake before she thinned out).

It was argued that W.T Stead was in it for the sensationalism, as sensationalism, scandalous detail, and sex, well, it sold papers (not much has changed, but he did pioneer the technique). Whilst investigating the selling and devirginising of underage girls, he too opened up the eyes of people in Victorian times about how totally degenerative Victorian society was. The 'Tribute of Modern Babylon' was an impetus for changing the laws at the time, i.e. the consensual age of sex being raised to 15 (or something) instead of the age of 9 or 11, or whatever it was… (again, you can google for the correct age, fuck me if I am going through all my boxed up uni readings to cite something properly… yes I'm a fat lazy cow - without the fat)

What was amazing - or even more so appalling about the tenets of thought in Victorian times was: fucking a virgin would cure syphilis. Hence the large amount of numbers of pubescent and pre pubescent children in hospitals dying of an incurable disease, given to them by filthy, diseased, middle and upper class men, and being sold off to these fuckers by pandering old wenches for trifling amounts of money. But I digress, this paragraph really is just a side note, as the topic always astounded me. I think some people still believe and practice this same shit in Africa today. But now, instead of syphilis, they spread aids.

One of the many things that I love about The Wire is: at this moment in time, after all it's critical acclaim, yet small audience numbers when originally aired, it's starting to be taught in university courses across the United States - ironically Ivy League universities. Courses highlighting the social and cultural decline of America (a shit hole which they are so patriotically proud of), and courses which are screaming about the poverty and senseless violence which prevails throughout that 'civilised' country, and which will continue to prevail until something drasticly changes.

People are finally discovering the wonderment that is The Wire, and because of this, hopefully it will change the average TV viewing experience for mediocre chumps in the decades to come, as was David Simon's grand design. Fuck me, hopefully people will start reflexively thinking about issues when presented with decent product, instead of the gamut of reality shit which pours out of the bottomless pit of cheap television hell.

David Simon is still alive, and creating another series for HBO set in New Orleans, revolving around Jazz musicians in the aftermath of hurricane Katrina, it's called Treme, I eagerly await its arrival (like a true TV junky).

W.T. Stead was one of the poor bastards that died on the Titanic's maiden voyage, because they didn't supply enough life boats, nor filled them properly when the 'unsinkable' boat sank.

If you are autodidactic and want to self educate… follow the links.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Maiden_Tribute_of_Modern_Babylon

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wire

I would just like to point out, this is neither a finely nuanced, well structured, nor aptly thought out blog. I always came up with the best lines when far away from the computer, on returning to write it, I could never remember any of the "clever" things I thought... Meh. I did want it to be much more smartly, but fuck it.

We know it's kind of fucked when there are more universities in china, than there are university graduates in America. I think this is one of David Simon's points... there is little redemption or hope for a country which revels in its own Hubris.

This piece of technological shit hasn't embedded properly. Click on

it to watch the wide screen version on youtube. It's worth it.