The Cyclone Began Early
*
The cyclone began early and ended late, held together by string; already muffled, these challenges were upon him now. He passed through the airport as if he traveled from Thailand to Cambodia every day of the week. Oh how distinct, how truly wonderful, were once furtive fumblings and ill conceived intent; fermenting acros years into a blatant, draping misery. So we weren't that beautiful anymore? So the warm afterglow of companionship - there aren't many frustrated western men in Thailand - then, too, dismal longings could only be kept at bay for so long before the chaos began again. He crossed into the heart of darkness and it began immediately. His daughter was in tears at the airport, when you are coming home, when are you coming home? I hate stinking Asia; I just want to be at home with you. It wasn't a time of my choosing; I nearly had a heart attack; he tried to explain. Whatever, she said, in that way only teenage girls can, and began the mantra all over again: when are you coming home? He didn't care if he never went home. Where else could you do the things he did? Where else in the world was there a place such as this; boom time in every sense.
Cambodia, of course, was an entirely different story. 10.36am in Chiang Mai and he is at the cafe of the murderess, and his friends are saying: you should get going. I haven't even packed, he responded. But made it anyway with time to spare. No have, no have, in a sing song voice. Despair was a driver, but so was this unique happiness. As if the fgrontier of everything had collapsed into warm fudge, and he was drowning in a love for everything; the warmth of the gathering morning air, the sound of the birds, the body sleeping in his room. They were so damned good looking; what was a lad to do. He couldn't be shattered so easily; not now. The world had done its worst. In evil times and bad; the prospect of good servants, good attitudes, life lived happily and to the full, all of this was the subject of regret and mental dismissal, a brief wave, a shrug, because nothing could bring back the past, the wasted years; and nothing could make any difference when the shadows hid in every wall; every corner offered an avenue to a greater dark; the flickering streets, the melancholy cries, the beggars lined up along the chaotic street, the simple pleasures wasted on a terrible life.
Self-imposed exile. And the muggy, scorching heat hit him the minute he stepped off the Air Asia flight. Oh shadows and longing; well enough of that. They crossed the car park and bundled into a tuk tuk; the driver, on $US20 a day, was foundering in the sweaty air. We couldn't be more precise. His pale face turned to the traffic. His daughters tears coming and going as he tried to joss her along. We are here, now, that's all that matters; very good to see you. They don't know what they want at that age, came the cautionary warning from older women. They think they want you there; and then when you change everything so you can spend more time with them, they feel crowded. They're teenagers. Nothing makes any sense. Passing from one thing to another. From child to adult. They sat in the Foreign Correspondents Club, which he knew already. This is the best place in Pnom Penh to watch the sunset, he declared, as if he had been coming there all his life, and she shrugged: it's better at Bondi. As in, one view is much like the next. When are you coming home? What was home now but dislocation and loneliness; a misery set apart; a person out of sync; no one in the club.
They stod at the door, when he knocked them, a kid on the hip, a kid on the belly, another at her feet, another behind, an indolent bloke lounging on the couch; pretending he wasn't there because Centrelink would cut their payments if they were cohabitating. It was a typical Western suburbs housing commission scene; that massive abuse of taxpayer funds, social housing in reality nothing but ghettos for the indolent; all at the expense of decent, working people. The government didn't believe a word it said; but these votes were guaranteed. No one on the public tit would ever vote for anything but yet ever greater welfare dependency. Why such images in a place where all order had collapsed. A policeman tried to stop the tuk tuk driver; who pointedly did not stop; not ready to be shaken down just because he had foreigners on board. They were crazy. There appeared to be no road rules. The policeman, almost run over, banged angrily on the back of the tuk tuk, but still it did not stop. The fire that burnt down several hundred homes and provoked only one main story: the five houses that survived had bribed the firemen. We are human too, they pleaded.
Only in Cmbodia, where the gold lexus picked through the chaotic traffic; and simple regard for social order was long gone, or after so many decades, had never been. For this world was a different world. He needed desperately to be someone else. Foreign climes and ancient spirits; oh lord, won't you buy me, a Mercedes Benz. John Bygates handsome face laughing in the late night clubs. Every time he returned to Australi John would poke fun at him, fully fledged international dissolute, international junkie, flying in flying out, smashed all over. Such was the way of youth. No one ever wanted to grow old. Never trust anyone over 30, said the lead singer of the Clash, and he thought, even then, you'll get there. We all get there. For already he was old inside; the ancient forces too beautiful to ignore; ancient souls that had imprinted themselves in the wall; calling, calling, and yet no one came with him, through the eye of a needle or the eye of a cyclone; no one came from the past to the present, the visitor never arrived, his companions left long ago, unable to make the perilous journey into the present; victims of themselves and false beliefs; of a hedonistic time and place; of a spot in time which had rippled out to swallow them all, or almost all.
http://images.google.com.au/imgres?imgurl=http://www.phoboslab.org/files/grid-solver/demo/images/Environment__POST_APOCALYPSE_by_I_NetGraFX.jpg&imgrefurl=http://personalitycafe.com/general-psychology/13142-zombie-apocalypse-other-post-apocalyptic-themes-why-so-popular.html&usg=__e4GWxoedMmYXY1n07_ceoDp16EM=&h=675&w=1200&sz=320&hl=en&start=8&itbs=1&tbnid=h9AY8YdRsqir2M:&tbnh=84&tbnw=150&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dpost%2Bapocalyptic%26hl%3Den%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:1
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/c1800c34-41dd-11df-865a-00144feabdc0.html
Thailand's anti-government protesters clashed with security forces yesterday after police and soldiers prevented them from leaving their demonstration site in Bangkok's commercial heart.
Demonstrators pushed back police lines as police and soldiers blocked a column of demonstrators from mounting a protest at a banned site. The clash was short-lived, however, and the police soon retreated.
The pace of the month-long demonstrations is quickening as the protesters increase pressure on the government to resign and call new elections.
The red-shirted demonstrators, who last Saturday moved the core of the protest from the old city to set up camp on one of the Thai capital's busiest intersections, have forced shopping malls to close and further clogged the city's traffic.
On Monday, about 100 demonstrators occupied the offices of Thailand's Electoral Commission , although protest leaders quickly persuaded them to leave.
The government has taken a low-key approach to the protests. It has declared the gathering at the intersection illegal but has not yet attempted to clear the area. The police reiterated on Monday that they had no intention to use force to disperse the crowds.
The demonstrators, many of whom are supporters of Thaksin Shinawatra, the former prime minister who was removed from power in a military coup in 2006, believe that the government of Abhisit Vejjajiva, the current prime minister, lacks legitimacy.
http://sify.com/news/thailand-protesters-reject-call-to-end-demonstrations-news-international-kefuObhahei.html
Anti-government protesters Monday rejected Thai authorities' demands to end their demonstration at a key shopping and tourism district in the heart of Bangkok.
The protesters, known as the red shirts for their favoured hue of clothing, tore up copies of an order to disperse, delivered by officers of the government's Peacekeeping Operations Command.
The red shirts were gathered at the city's Ratchaprasong intersection, home to some of the city's most luxurious shopping malls and hotels.
Their rally, although peaceful, has disrupted hundreds of businesses, snarled traffic and caused millions of dollars in lost revenues.
The demonstrators, including many rural poor bused in from the north-east of the country, have been camped on the streets and sidewalks in the ritzy shopping area since Saturday to try to pressure the government to step down and call fresh elections.
Most of the protesters profess loyalty to former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, who was ousted in a military coup in 2006. He jumped bail to go into self-imposed exile after he was convicted of corruption in 2008.
Government leaders filed for a court injunction to end the demonstration, but leaders of the pro-Thaksin United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship (UDD), which is leading the demonstrations, filed a counter-suit against the government, leading to a legal stalemate.
Chatuporn Phompan - a core leader of the UDD - said Monday that the demonstrators would reject any court order, just as they rejected the order from the Peacekeeping Operations Command.
http://images.google.com.au/imgres?imgurl=http://www.phoboslab.org/files/grid-solver/demo/images/Environment__POST_APOCALYPSE_by_I_NetGraFX.jpg&imgrefurl=http://personalitycafe.com/general-psychology/13142-zombie-apocalypse-other-post-apocalyptic-themes-why-so-popular.html&usg=__e4GWxoedMmYXY1n07_ceoDp16EM=&h=675&w=1200&sz=320&hl=en&start=8&itbs=1&tbnid=h9AY8YdRsqir2M:&tbnh=84&tbnw=150&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dpost%2Bapocalyptic%26hl%3Den%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:1
The cyclone began early and ended late, held together by string; already muffled, these challenges were upon him now. He passed through the airport as if he traveled from Thailand to Cambodia every day of the week. Oh how distinct, how truly wonderful, were once furtive fumblings and ill conceived intent; fermenting acros years into a blatant, draping misery. So we weren't that beautiful anymore? So the warm afterglow of companionship - there aren't many frustrated western men in Thailand - then, too, dismal longings could only be kept at bay for so long before the chaos began again. He crossed into the heart of darkness and it began immediately. His daughter was in tears at the airport, when you are coming home, when are you coming home? I hate stinking Asia; I just want to be at home with you. It wasn't a time of my choosing; I nearly had a heart attack; he tried to explain. Whatever, she said, in that way only teenage girls can, and began the mantra all over again: when are you coming home? He didn't care if he never went home. Where else could you do the things he did? Where else in the world was there a place such as this; boom time in every sense.
Cambodia, of course, was an entirely different story. 10.36am in Chiang Mai and he is at the cafe of the murderess, and his friends are saying: you should get going. I haven't even packed, he responded. But made it anyway with time to spare. No have, no have, in a sing song voice. Despair was a driver, but so was this unique happiness. As if the fgrontier of everything had collapsed into warm fudge, and he was drowning in a love for everything; the warmth of the gathering morning air, the sound of the birds, the body sleeping in his room. They were so damned good looking; what was a lad to do. He couldn't be shattered so easily; not now. The world had done its worst. In evil times and bad; the prospect of good servants, good attitudes, life lived happily and to the full, all of this was the subject of regret and mental dismissal, a brief wave, a shrug, because nothing could bring back the past, the wasted years; and nothing could make any difference when the shadows hid in every wall; every corner offered an avenue to a greater dark; the flickering streets, the melancholy cries, the beggars lined up along the chaotic street, the simple pleasures wasted on a terrible life.
Self-imposed exile. And the muggy, scorching heat hit him the minute he stepped off the Air Asia flight. Oh shadows and longing; well enough of that. They crossed the car park and bundled into a tuk tuk; the driver, on $US20 a day, was foundering in the sweaty air. We couldn't be more precise. His pale face turned to the traffic. His daughters tears coming and going as he tried to joss her along. We are here, now, that's all that matters; very good to see you. They don't know what they want at that age, came the cautionary warning from older women. They think they want you there; and then when you change everything so you can spend more time with them, they feel crowded. They're teenagers. Nothing makes any sense. Passing from one thing to another. From child to adult. They sat in the Foreign Correspondents Club, which he knew already. This is the best place in Pnom Penh to watch the sunset, he declared, as if he had been coming there all his life, and she shrugged: it's better at Bondi. As in, one view is much like the next. When are you coming home? What was home now but dislocation and loneliness; a misery set apart; a person out of sync; no one in the club.
They stod at the door, when he knocked them, a kid on the hip, a kid on the belly, another at her feet, another behind, an indolent bloke lounging on the couch; pretending he wasn't there because Centrelink would cut their payments if they were cohabitating. It was a typical Western suburbs housing commission scene; that massive abuse of taxpayer funds, social housing in reality nothing but ghettos for the indolent; all at the expense of decent, working people. The government didn't believe a word it said; but these votes were guaranteed. No one on the public tit would ever vote for anything but yet ever greater welfare dependency. Why such images in a place where all order had collapsed. A policeman tried to stop the tuk tuk driver; who pointedly did not stop; not ready to be shaken down just because he had foreigners on board. They were crazy. There appeared to be no road rules. The policeman, almost run over, banged angrily on the back of the tuk tuk, but still it did not stop. The fire that burnt down several hundred homes and provoked only one main story: the five houses that survived had bribed the firemen. We are human too, they pleaded.
Only in Cmbodia, where the gold lexus picked through the chaotic traffic; and simple regard for social order was long gone, or after so many decades, had never been. For this world was a different world. He needed desperately to be someone else. Foreign climes and ancient spirits; oh lord, won't you buy me, a Mercedes Benz. John Bygates handsome face laughing in the late night clubs. Every time he returned to Australi John would poke fun at him, fully fledged international dissolute, international junkie, flying in flying out, smashed all over. Such was the way of youth. No one ever wanted to grow old. Never trust anyone over 30, said the lead singer of the Clash, and he thought, even then, you'll get there. We all get there. For already he was old inside; the ancient forces too beautiful to ignore; ancient souls that had imprinted themselves in the wall; calling, calling, and yet no one came with him, through the eye of a needle or the eye of a cyclone; no one came from the past to the present, the visitor never arrived, his companions left long ago, unable to make the perilous journey into the present; victims of themselves and false beliefs; of a hedonistic time and place; of a spot in time which had rippled out to swallow them all, or almost all.
http://images.google.com.au/imgres?imgurl=http://www.phoboslab.org/files/grid-solver/demo/images/Environment__POST_APOCALYPSE_by_I_NetGraFX.jpg&imgrefurl=http://personalitycafe.com/general-psychology/13142-zombie-apocalypse-other-post-apocalyptic-themes-why-so-popular.html&usg=__e4GWxoedMmYXY1n07_ceoDp16EM=&h=675&w=1200&sz=320&hl=en&start=8&itbs=1&tbnid=h9AY8YdRsqir2M:&tbnh=84&tbnw=150&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dpost%2Bapocalyptic%26hl%3Den%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:1
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/c1800c34-41dd-11df-865a-00144feabdc0.html
Thailand's anti-government protesters clashed with security forces yesterday after police and soldiers prevented them from leaving their demonstration site in Bangkok's commercial heart.
Demonstrators pushed back police lines as police and soldiers blocked a column of demonstrators from mounting a protest at a banned site. The clash was short-lived, however, and the police soon retreated.
The pace of the month-long demonstrations is quickening as the protesters increase pressure on the government to resign and call new elections.
The red-shirted demonstrators, who last Saturday moved the core of the protest from the old city to set up camp on one of the Thai capital's busiest intersections, have forced shopping malls to close and further clogged the city's traffic.
On Monday, about 100 demonstrators occupied the offices of Thailand's Electoral Commission , although protest leaders quickly persuaded them to leave.
The government has taken a low-key approach to the protests. It has declared the gathering at the intersection illegal but has not yet attempted to clear the area. The police reiterated on Monday that they had no intention to use force to disperse the crowds.
The demonstrators, many of whom are supporters of Thaksin Shinawatra, the former prime minister who was removed from power in a military coup in 2006, believe that the government of Abhisit Vejjajiva, the current prime minister, lacks legitimacy.
http://sify.com/news/thailand-protesters-reject-call-to-end-demonstrations-news-international-kefuObhahei.html
Anti-government protesters Monday rejected Thai authorities' demands to end their demonstration at a key shopping and tourism district in the heart of Bangkok.
The protesters, known as the red shirts for their favoured hue of clothing, tore up copies of an order to disperse, delivered by officers of the government's Peacekeeping Operations Command.
The red shirts were gathered at the city's Ratchaprasong intersection, home to some of the city's most luxurious shopping malls and hotels.
Their rally, although peaceful, has disrupted hundreds of businesses, snarled traffic and caused millions of dollars in lost revenues.
The demonstrators, including many rural poor bused in from the north-east of the country, have been camped on the streets and sidewalks in the ritzy shopping area since Saturday to try to pressure the government to step down and call fresh elections.
Most of the protesters profess loyalty to former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, who was ousted in a military coup in 2006. He jumped bail to go into self-imposed exile after he was convicted of corruption in 2008.
Government leaders filed for a court injunction to end the demonstration, but leaders of the pro-Thaksin United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship (UDD), which is leading the demonstrations, filed a counter-suit against the government, leading to a legal stalemate.
Chatuporn Phompan - a core leader of the UDD - said Monday that the demonstrators would reject any court order, just as they rejected the order from the Peacekeeping Operations Command.
http://images.google.com.au/imgres?imgurl=http://www.phoboslab.org/files/grid-solver/demo/images/Environment__POST_APOCALYPSE_by_I_NetGraFX.jpg&imgrefurl=http://personalitycafe.com/general-psychology/13142-zombie-apocalypse-other-post-apocalyptic-themes-why-so-popular.html&usg=__e4GWxoedMmYXY1n07_ceoDp16EM=&h=675&w=1200&sz=320&hl=en&start=8&itbs=1&tbnid=h9AY8YdRsqir2M:&tbnh=84&tbnw=150&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dpost%2Bapocalyptic%26hl%3Den%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:1
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