Crash and Burn
*
If every weakness, every fault, was splayed across the sky, every aching bone, every spluttering cough, every stupid decision, to drink again, party again, pursue things through to the gates of insanity and death; then he would never have survived. Show kindness. Let the derelicts renew. Let tears flow. This is not fun drinking, he said to his friend, wriggling in the messy room, sweaty, unconscious, the brandy bottle almost empty, the vodka tipped sideways. Please help me, please help me, he said, but what help could be offered, in this life, in any life? Just a rescuer, give it away, said another voice, there's nothing to be done. Let them drink themselves to death. Let them go out and have a bit more experience. Except there was no sensible decision making here, nothing to be gained, nothing to be said. I've made a mistake, you've made a mistake, carry on.
Carry on into oblivion and death, not a soul to care, not in this massive city, not in this indifferent world, not in a place not ours, as if we had ever belonged anywhere. There's nothing to be done but to show some kindness, to help him clean his room, tip the maid, let him sleep it off in the air conditioned comfort of his own room. And so, plastered and derelict, looking on at his friend in such appalling condition, knowing only a few days ago he was a completely different person, happy, kind of, articulate, intelligent, most certainly perceptive; and now it had all gone to mud, in a single swan dive. I just felt like getting laid. Join the crowd. Pussy fest, the guys call it, here in Bangkok where the girls seem to outnumber the men in astonishing numbers and the bars are filled with working girls. Walk in. Pick one. Walk out. Just have a coke. It doesn't have to be the whole divide, the whole slide, the whole tricky denouement.
But that was not the way Alex chose to go; if there was ever any real choice in the matter. What, do it sober? he asked at Coffee World, where an odd little gang of westerners would sometimes gather, where the French woman smoked her cigarettes and barely moved for hours. Where his attempts at friendliness were met with indifference. Where he could watch the men picking up the girls, or going down for their "massages", their happy endings. What you want mister, boom boom, mouth? It made no difference to him. He was beyond it all; had transcended into some weird king of monkhood. While every one else came undone on the butt of a pretty girl. Where the bars were full of fools. Where there were no real happy endings. Where he watched deranged westerners weave their way through the crowded streets, their arms in slings, their faces puffy from the previous night, putting out one cigarette and lighting another, the victims of themselves, their own livestyles, their own worse inclinations.
So it was, compared to the madness in others, the deep antisocial despair, the terrible conflict that came upon others when they fell off the wagon and into the soup, that he appeared almost sane; well saner than them. The man sobbed on the bed. All he could do was listen, but there was nothing to listen to but despair. I've f.....d up; oh really? Where criminal gangs roamed a barely lucid earth; where his own fear of movement left him comfortable in a working class Thai neighbourhood; where he sacrificed his own room for the consideration of others; and all was lost, lost, to a powerful force. Except he didn't feel that anymore. She has enormous power my son, said Anthony Hopkins in the Wolfman, gazing at the moon, she has enormous power. Well that's true. But it's a power self invoked. He was, apart from Gary, the only one there. Where was his so-called sponsor? Where was the help supposedly so freely given. Why did it fall to him. Well, he knew the answer to that already. It would be forever thus.
Yes, the city teemed. Swishy girls and high pitched boys; cruel abstinence, time spent afresh and anew, woken, woken, from a long sleep, if not at the end of his life then older, much older than he had ever expected. Richard never wanted to grow old, couldn't think of anything worse; and so they chose these sad fates, with disconsolate, bewildered families looking on. They chose to take themselves out in what was subjectively perceived as a noble journey, the only right thing to do. It wasn't the right thing to do. It was simply a sad and terrible waste, another meteor on the path to crash and burn. How was it possible to rescue someone from this torment? How was it possible to beg them to stay sober? Nothing worked. They came and they went. The young, the good looking, they were welcomed, covetted, feited. But not him. And yet who was here? Who held his hand? And so it was, when all was loss, the descent complete, chaos and despair and personal ignominy, messy hotel rooms and litters of bottles, lost hope, lost competency, lost decency, that the hand of friendship was there. Even here; at the end of everything; in a future he could never imagined; in a place where he had always struggled for sanity; even here, there were right and wrong things to do, simple decency, acts of kindness. He could smile across decades; whispy intent, forged beliefs, hope and abandonment from another era; all of it meant nothing and everything. Help me, help me, his friend said, curling once more into a weeping ball. This is not fun drinking, he repeated, almost kindly, with something resembling compassion. There has to be some way out.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://news.xinhuanet.com/english2010/world/2010-03/20/c_13218350.htm
BANGKOK, March 20 (Xinhua) -- Thailand's anti-government red- shirts began their motorcade procession around Bangkok at about 9: 45 a.m. on Saturday, claiming they want to send smile, love and happiness to Bangkok residents.
The head of the motorcade, leading about 500 motorcycles, started to move at Yommarat Intersection, more than 1 km away from the red-shirts' main rally site Phan Fah Bridge, where the tail of procession was.
Before they started, the co-leaders reminded the red-clad supporters that they should stick to "Three No" principles during the procession: No Anger, No Violence, No Reaction (to any provocation), in order to keep it a peaceful march throughout the capital city.
Weng Tochirakarn, one of the red-shirts' core leaders, insisted the march is aimed at sending three things to Bangkokians: smile, love and happiness. He also invited the public to participate the red-shirts movement.
The motorcade procession by red-shirts took place as the anti- government movement, led by the United Front of Democracy against Dictatorship (UDD), staged a massive rally in Bangkok since March 12, aiming to pressure the government to dissolve the parliament and to call a snap election.
After the Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva on March 15 rejected an 24-hour ultimatum issued by the red-shirts, demanding an House dissolution, the red-shirts poured altogether more than 300 liter blood in the front of the Government House, the Democrat Party headquarters and Abhisit's house to mount pressure on the government. The blood came from a massive blood donation by red- shirts and their supporters.
Thousands of red-clad Thai protesters began to snake across Bangkok on Saturday in a festive travelling rally aimed at winning over the city's residents to their flagging anti-government campaign.
http://news.smh.com.au/breaking-news-world/red-shirts-take-to-streets-to-win-over-thai-capital-20100320-qmyi.html
Police said around 20,000 "Red Shirts" joined the convoy across the capital in pick-up trucks, buses, cars and on motorcycles after they rejected a conditional offer of talks by Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva a day earlier.
The group planned to zig-zag along 45 kilometres (28 miles) of Bangkok's main roads bearing flags, smiles and music, in an attempt to recuit residents to their waning rally calling for elections, now into its seventh day.
Backers of ousted premier Thaksin Shinawatra, the Reds -- mainly from poor rural areas -- say they are fighting Thailand's elites in bureaucratic, military and palace circles, whom they accuse of ousting elected governments.
The protesters say Abhisit's government is illegitimate because it came to power with army backing via a December 2008 parliamentary vote, after a controversial court ruling removed Thaksin's allies.
"We will travel to find love from the people of Bangkok and to unite them with us, the poor peasants, to overthrow the elite-backed government," protest leader Veera Musikapong told the crowds before their convoy set off.
Protest numbers peaked at more than 100,000 last Sunday and have so far been peaceful, but army spokesman Colonel Sunsern Kaewkumnerd said he worried "there could be some clashes" Saturday.
If every weakness, every fault, was splayed across the sky, every aching bone, every spluttering cough, every stupid decision, to drink again, party again, pursue things through to the gates of insanity and death; then he would never have survived. Show kindness. Let the derelicts renew. Let tears flow. This is not fun drinking, he said to his friend, wriggling in the messy room, sweaty, unconscious, the brandy bottle almost empty, the vodka tipped sideways. Please help me, please help me, he said, but what help could be offered, in this life, in any life? Just a rescuer, give it away, said another voice, there's nothing to be done. Let them drink themselves to death. Let them go out and have a bit more experience. Except there was no sensible decision making here, nothing to be gained, nothing to be said. I've made a mistake, you've made a mistake, carry on.
Carry on into oblivion and death, not a soul to care, not in this massive city, not in this indifferent world, not in a place not ours, as if we had ever belonged anywhere. There's nothing to be done but to show some kindness, to help him clean his room, tip the maid, let him sleep it off in the air conditioned comfort of his own room. And so, plastered and derelict, looking on at his friend in such appalling condition, knowing only a few days ago he was a completely different person, happy, kind of, articulate, intelligent, most certainly perceptive; and now it had all gone to mud, in a single swan dive. I just felt like getting laid. Join the crowd. Pussy fest, the guys call it, here in Bangkok where the girls seem to outnumber the men in astonishing numbers and the bars are filled with working girls. Walk in. Pick one. Walk out. Just have a coke. It doesn't have to be the whole divide, the whole slide, the whole tricky denouement.
But that was not the way Alex chose to go; if there was ever any real choice in the matter. What, do it sober? he asked at Coffee World, where an odd little gang of westerners would sometimes gather, where the French woman smoked her cigarettes and barely moved for hours. Where his attempts at friendliness were met with indifference. Where he could watch the men picking up the girls, or going down for their "massages", their happy endings. What you want mister, boom boom, mouth? It made no difference to him. He was beyond it all; had transcended into some weird king of monkhood. While every one else came undone on the butt of a pretty girl. Where the bars were full of fools. Where there were no real happy endings. Where he watched deranged westerners weave their way through the crowded streets, their arms in slings, their faces puffy from the previous night, putting out one cigarette and lighting another, the victims of themselves, their own livestyles, their own worse inclinations.
So it was, compared to the madness in others, the deep antisocial despair, the terrible conflict that came upon others when they fell off the wagon and into the soup, that he appeared almost sane; well saner than them. The man sobbed on the bed. All he could do was listen, but there was nothing to listen to but despair. I've f.....d up; oh really? Where criminal gangs roamed a barely lucid earth; where his own fear of movement left him comfortable in a working class Thai neighbourhood; where he sacrificed his own room for the consideration of others; and all was lost, lost, to a powerful force. Except he didn't feel that anymore. She has enormous power my son, said Anthony Hopkins in the Wolfman, gazing at the moon, she has enormous power. Well that's true. But it's a power self invoked. He was, apart from Gary, the only one there. Where was his so-called sponsor? Where was the help supposedly so freely given. Why did it fall to him. Well, he knew the answer to that already. It would be forever thus.
Yes, the city teemed. Swishy girls and high pitched boys; cruel abstinence, time spent afresh and anew, woken, woken, from a long sleep, if not at the end of his life then older, much older than he had ever expected. Richard never wanted to grow old, couldn't think of anything worse; and so they chose these sad fates, with disconsolate, bewildered families looking on. They chose to take themselves out in what was subjectively perceived as a noble journey, the only right thing to do. It wasn't the right thing to do. It was simply a sad and terrible waste, another meteor on the path to crash and burn. How was it possible to rescue someone from this torment? How was it possible to beg them to stay sober? Nothing worked. They came and they went. The young, the good looking, they were welcomed, covetted, feited. But not him. And yet who was here? Who held his hand? And so it was, when all was loss, the descent complete, chaos and despair and personal ignominy, messy hotel rooms and litters of bottles, lost hope, lost competency, lost decency, that the hand of friendship was there. Even here; at the end of everything; in a future he could never imagined; in a place where he had always struggled for sanity; even here, there were right and wrong things to do, simple decency, acts of kindness. He could smile across decades; whispy intent, forged beliefs, hope and abandonment from another era; all of it meant nothing and everything. Help me, help me, his friend said, curling once more into a weeping ball. This is not fun drinking, he repeated, almost kindly, with something resembling compassion. There has to be some way out.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://news.xinhuanet.com/english2010/world/2010-03/20/c_13218350.htm
BANGKOK, March 20 (Xinhua) -- Thailand's anti-government red- shirts began their motorcade procession around Bangkok at about 9: 45 a.m. on Saturday, claiming they want to send smile, love and happiness to Bangkok residents.
The head of the motorcade, leading about 500 motorcycles, started to move at Yommarat Intersection, more than 1 km away from the red-shirts' main rally site Phan Fah Bridge, where the tail of procession was.
Before they started, the co-leaders reminded the red-clad supporters that they should stick to "Three No" principles during the procession: No Anger, No Violence, No Reaction (to any provocation), in order to keep it a peaceful march throughout the capital city.
Weng Tochirakarn, one of the red-shirts' core leaders, insisted the march is aimed at sending three things to Bangkokians: smile, love and happiness. He also invited the public to participate the red-shirts movement.
The motorcade procession by red-shirts took place as the anti- government movement, led by the United Front of Democracy against Dictatorship (UDD), staged a massive rally in Bangkok since March 12, aiming to pressure the government to dissolve the parliament and to call a snap election.
After the Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva on March 15 rejected an 24-hour ultimatum issued by the red-shirts, demanding an House dissolution, the red-shirts poured altogether more than 300 liter blood in the front of the Government House, the Democrat Party headquarters and Abhisit's house to mount pressure on the government. The blood came from a massive blood donation by red- shirts and their supporters.
Thousands of red-clad Thai protesters began to snake across Bangkok on Saturday in a festive travelling rally aimed at winning over the city's residents to their flagging anti-government campaign.
http://news.smh.com.au/breaking-news-world/red-shirts-take-to-streets-to-win-over-thai-capital-20100320-qmyi.html
Police said around 20,000 "Red Shirts" joined the convoy across the capital in pick-up trucks, buses, cars and on motorcycles after they rejected a conditional offer of talks by Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva a day earlier.
The group planned to zig-zag along 45 kilometres (28 miles) of Bangkok's main roads bearing flags, smiles and music, in an attempt to recuit residents to their waning rally calling for elections, now into its seventh day.
Backers of ousted premier Thaksin Shinawatra, the Reds -- mainly from poor rural areas -- say they are fighting Thailand's elites in bureaucratic, military and palace circles, whom they accuse of ousting elected governments.
The protesters say Abhisit's government is illegitimate because it came to power with army backing via a December 2008 parliamentary vote, after a controversial court ruling removed Thaksin's allies.
"We will travel to find love from the people of Bangkok and to unite them with us, the poor peasants, to overthrow the elite-backed government," protest leader Veera Musikapong told the crowds before their convoy set off.
Protest numbers peaked at more than 100,000 last Sunday and have so far been peaceful, but army spokesman Colonel Sunsern Kaewkumnerd said he worried "there could be some clashes" Saturday.
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