The Breaking Storm
*
The storm broke, finally; and he resumed his old life. There was a bit of shame, guilt, regret, remorse, a clarified image, a run at darkness, a ridiculous old man trying to keep up with someone more than 30 years younger, the ridiculous bars at all hours, the girls who don't want to do threesomes with two men, the moment of departure, time standing still in an agony of chaos, darkness, oh lord, that got me through, the girl sitting there as if she had been asked to suck off two diseased monsters, exiting the room, a disappointed boy, quiet, sulky through the night, these things, always, drove him into new paroxysms of self abnegation; so it was good one morning when he woke up and he was himself again. He wouldn't spend the entire day in the room; just to be there. He couldn't make sure. This was no way out. Time stood still; and yet there was so much to repair. He was on the edge of danger; and even greater darkness. And yet now the sky dusted poinks and the pigeons took their first morning flights; and nothing and everything, we came, we went; little spirits out of the forest, shadows of other souls, selves, and where once he had become an automatum, he came back to life.
These crying days, crying shame; he dealt in fractured spirits, he dealt in the art of lost, the symphony of chaos with which he had flirted so long, at much detriment to his health; and then, shame on shame, a 6,000 baht karaoke bill, the best times; laughing at dawn, time out of mind, savage games, warning signs, new boys, old loves, fractured; Hotshots tacky to the core; Spicey, which does not open until 2am, equally tacky, as they danced; and yet everyone took in the situation and no one said everything. Everybody knows why you are with that old foreigner; everyone can see. He pays for you. How else would a boy like you be drinking Black Label. Why can't we make for the future. Why cannot things work. We make the break; into the light, into the clearing; away from every entanglement. Let go of all attachment; the voice said clearly in the muffled sunset, the sound of a guitar and the melodic Thai voices singing songs they all knew; sabai sabai, relaxing, relaxing. Let go. Don't for God's sake Let God. There were too many strangers. I miss my friends, many friends Bangkok, here, there, he said, indicating he knew everybody. He had no doubt. All the same. All in shame.
All the same he felt the shame. It had felt like there was no way back. Happiness, sobriety, good times between the ears, these things were nothing but an island off a distant shore; water lapping at the river's edge, another picnic he was not a part of, another good time he had missed; other lives he could never live. He reached out but these voices broke his heart. He could see the young men in the canoe; good looking as so many Asian men were; and while the workers held their hands at inflated prices and another bottle of whiskey disappeared with expensive mixers; music blared. It was all such fun. As if there was no tomorrow. But unfortunately tomorrow always came; and with it the stabbing pains of misconduct. How could you have done it all again? Picking up a rent boy who thought nothing of drinking a bottle of whiskey every day would do it. That was their mask, their curse, but in a way their secret; how good it was between them; that in a sense they were sometimes genuine lovers; behind the doors; their secrets. Let in the light. Become a normal man. Start again; again.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/may/15/redshirts-warn-civil-war-thai-troops
As Bangkok suffers its worst political unrest for two decades, the Thai army has declared parts of the city "live-fire zones", warning that anyone found entering certain roads in the capital will be shot on sight.
The move came as one of the leaders of the redshirt protesters said that there would be "civil war" if the army did not pull back and declare a ceasefire.
After two days of conflict, the army stepped up efforts to cut off the redshirts from the rest of the world, sealing off swaths of the city.
Troops have erected signs at Ratchaprarop Road, on the northern edge of the redshirts' camp, warning, in Thai and English: "No Entry, Restricted Area. Live Firing Zone". Protesters still risked their lives to harass troops, drawing fire as they ran across the deserted streets to hurl rocks and bottles. Others, including residents caught out by the army's sudden move, were seen fleeing the area with their hands above their heads.
Since violence re-erupted in Bangkok on Thursday with the shooting of renegade army general Seh Daeng, 24 people have been killed, bringing to 54 the death toll since 12 March. More than 1,100 have been injured, including more than 150 during the past three days.
International bodies called for calm as the UN secretary general, Ban Ki-moon, urged both sides to do everything in their power to avoid further loss of life. British ambassador Quinton Quayle and former US ambassador William Itoh have also called for the two sides to restart talks.
http://www.iphonefondos.com/img/medias/791.jpg
The storm broke, finally; and he resumed his old life. There was a bit of shame, guilt, regret, remorse, a clarified image, a run at darkness, a ridiculous old man trying to keep up with someone more than 30 years younger, the ridiculous bars at all hours, the girls who don't want to do threesomes with two men, the moment of departure, time standing still in an agony of chaos, darkness, oh lord, that got me through, the girl sitting there as if she had been asked to suck off two diseased monsters, exiting the room, a disappointed boy, quiet, sulky through the night, these things, always, drove him into new paroxysms of self abnegation; so it was good one morning when he woke up and he was himself again. He wouldn't spend the entire day in the room; just to be there. He couldn't make sure. This was no way out. Time stood still; and yet there was so much to repair. He was on the edge of danger; and even greater darkness. And yet now the sky dusted poinks and the pigeons took their first morning flights; and nothing and everything, we came, we went; little spirits out of the forest, shadows of other souls, selves, and where once he had become an automatum, he came back to life.
These crying days, crying shame; he dealt in fractured spirits, he dealt in the art of lost, the symphony of chaos with which he had flirted so long, at much detriment to his health; and then, shame on shame, a 6,000 baht karaoke bill, the best times; laughing at dawn, time out of mind, savage games, warning signs, new boys, old loves, fractured; Hotshots tacky to the core; Spicey, which does not open until 2am, equally tacky, as they danced; and yet everyone took in the situation and no one said everything. Everybody knows why you are with that old foreigner; everyone can see. He pays for you. How else would a boy like you be drinking Black Label. Why can't we make for the future. Why cannot things work. We make the break; into the light, into the clearing; away from every entanglement. Let go of all attachment; the voice said clearly in the muffled sunset, the sound of a guitar and the melodic Thai voices singing songs they all knew; sabai sabai, relaxing, relaxing. Let go. Don't for God's sake Let God. There were too many strangers. I miss my friends, many friends Bangkok, here, there, he said, indicating he knew everybody. He had no doubt. All the same. All in shame.
All the same he felt the shame. It had felt like there was no way back. Happiness, sobriety, good times between the ears, these things were nothing but an island off a distant shore; water lapping at the river's edge, another picnic he was not a part of, another good time he had missed; other lives he could never live. He reached out but these voices broke his heart. He could see the young men in the canoe; good looking as so many Asian men were; and while the workers held their hands at inflated prices and another bottle of whiskey disappeared with expensive mixers; music blared. It was all such fun. As if there was no tomorrow. But unfortunately tomorrow always came; and with it the stabbing pains of misconduct. How could you have done it all again? Picking up a rent boy who thought nothing of drinking a bottle of whiskey every day would do it. That was their mask, their curse, but in a way their secret; how good it was between them; that in a sense they were sometimes genuine lovers; behind the doors; their secrets. Let in the light. Become a normal man. Start again; again.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/may/15/redshirts-warn-civil-war-thai-troops
As Bangkok suffers its worst political unrest for two decades, the Thai army has declared parts of the city "live-fire zones", warning that anyone found entering certain roads in the capital will be shot on sight.
The move came as one of the leaders of the redshirt protesters said that there would be "civil war" if the army did not pull back and declare a ceasefire.
After two days of conflict, the army stepped up efforts to cut off the redshirts from the rest of the world, sealing off swaths of the city.
Troops have erected signs at Ratchaprarop Road, on the northern edge of the redshirts' camp, warning, in Thai and English: "No Entry, Restricted Area. Live Firing Zone". Protesters still risked their lives to harass troops, drawing fire as they ran across the deserted streets to hurl rocks and bottles. Others, including residents caught out by the army's sudden move, were seen fleeing the area with their hands above their heads.
Since violence re-erupted in Bangkok on Thursday with the shooting of renegade army general Seh Daeng, 24 people have been killed, bringing to 54 the death toll since 12 March. More than 1,100 have been injured, including more than 150 during the past three days.
International bodies called for calm as the UN secretary general, Ban Ki-moon, urged both sides to do everything in their power to avoid further loss of life. British ambassador Quinton Quayle and former US ambassador William Itoh have also called for the two sides to restart talks.
http://www.iphonefondos.com/img/medias/791.jpg
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