Retribution
*
Consternation, a flood of tears, anguish in the making, nothing would make me happier my dear, the sequence of blustering comments. If all else fails, smile in the face of fear, they say, across cracked porcelain ribs, across aching hearts, across a fetid, overheated atmosphere, with nothing but unresolved issues and contemporaneous pain, a thousand rich Bangkok gay boys squeezed into a single venue, an appalling drag show which they all applauded enthusiastically, as if nothing could be better than a poor version of Mariah Carey, thumped out loud so the speakers vibrated in unison with his ear drums, and over-moisturised, perfect young men crammed together, all eyes, all saying I belong here, this is our place. It wasn't his place. He felt more comfortable with the rent boys down at Hot Male Station. Everyone knew where they stood. They all welcomed him as part of the crew. He watched the other foreigners being stitched up, or hitched up, as you see it; now you don't. The fast and the furious, no doubt. Get it over with, get it done, take the baht and depart. But in the DJ's tunnel the lady boys in their uniforms swept up and down the alley, the high rent bars spilled off on either side, and in the multi-floored disco itself, well, you needed to be drinking. He downed his two free drinks for the price of entry, two bottles of water, in rapid succession, surrendered to a cigarette outside; and thought, oh bugger it, I'll sleep alone, for once. Hey, won't do you any harm. For once. It just seems wrong, man, this rare opportunity; but no, he went home alone.
The boy was off on a university science expedition; and it was a dangerous sign that he immediately felt out of sorts, as if things weren't right, without his loyal soldier and his constant companion; there, looking after him, taking care. He missed him and that was all there was to it. Simple things. He spent an hour talking to his daughter on Skype, this time with video connection; and he noticed the repeated attempts at contact the previous day; when the computer had been away. Oh soldier, come here, nestle with me. Their young frames caught in slow motion on the Sky Train. The girls, delicious, pert, like cartoon characters, some of them were so gorgeous, and gorgeously made up, with large black eyes and perfect make up. Oh come hither, come with me. There were times, ill at ease, when drawn to frightful queens for the fact of the theatre, he went to lunch with Jack the Washington lawyer, who called everyone dear in a pronounced, camp way, as if there was any doubt, and suddenly the boys in the street were thrusting gay porn at him as if there was no doubt, and when he said in the massage parlour "massage, boy", pointing to the best looking one there, Jack exclaimed: "Oh I wanted that one dear." The girls giggled and the boys grinned at him knowingly and all was managed in fine, short style. Oh, such a perfect day, they just keep me hanging on. Thank you Lou Reed.
We were easily surrounded. Australia seemed a long way away. Caught between consonants, laughing in the gaps, the streets were as shadows; the beggars with their plastic legs; the beggars with their well cared for children, looking too good to be genuinely poor. He took account. He didn't give them any money. He wasn't that desperate to earn merit. Enough had been done to help the strangest of creatures. He looked forward to change and he looked forward to things staying the same. He sat in the gangster's lair, probably for the last time, talking to the lawyer who was drawing up a contract for him; there by the pool. The pool had not been cleaned, nothing had been cleaned, that was obvious; and the drifts of browning frangapeni flowers and the dying leaves from the overhanging trees spoke to the fact that nothing had been done; Paul had stayed in his room. He stayed in his room this time around, too; as the lawyer told him of all the complexities of the case. They were winding up the house. There would be nowhere to go. Evil spirits get their comeuppance. Evil spirits cast adrift, if not on the high seas well then on to difficult streets, difficult places. They had looked after him well, too well, and now all of that was coming to an end. He was shadowed by former loves; haunted by strange beasts, by flashes of former lives, by unresolved injustices, not from this era, not from this century, but from thousands of years before. So when he saw the drift of dying leaves, the dying flowers by the pool, he knew retribution was at hand.
That in some strange way justice would out, that all that was fair and right would come to the fore. All those people the gangster had bashed. All those scams he had pulled. Now was the time to pay the piper; and the piper would be paid. Oh how it broke his heart to see the bastard suffer. Well he didn't even know that, but presumed, because the entire time he was there the gangster never emerged from his cell, his room which might as well have been a cell, so rarely did he come out of it. It's because he's depressed, the lawyer ventured, but whether or not that was the case he did not know. All he knew was that the air of decay that had settled over everything, not just in the untidy piles of browning flowers and dying leaves around the pool, but in the garbage that had begun to accumulate in every corner, the state of the house, the air of a bleak English gangster, the scales from his skin, impregnated in the walls, all that room, all that money, wasted, because no one went there, it was barely used. They could have seen this coming, they should have seen this coming. But instead they let the gangster take over their real estate, and destroy it for everyone else. So when he saw the damage done, those browning frangipani flowers, he knew that the day of retribution had come, that by staying faithful to the good, by maintaining a wholesome heart, he had avoided the evil that stalked the world, that swept through upmarket villas just like this one, and destroyed the most arrogant, most self centred, most assured criminals just like that, leaving them not just bereft, separated from their former lives, but destroyed, evicting them from luxury and leaving them as nothing but poisonous slugs feeding on mean streets, darkened asphalt and choking fumes.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.smh.com.au/federal-election/gillard-needs-to-put-abbott-in-the-frame-20100731-110ps.html
THERESE Rein is one sensible and savvy woman. Yesterday she seemed to be suggesting a way to get the ''Rudd factor'' under control in the campaign.
Speaking to journalists, she indicated she'd like to see Kevin confined for a while to get properly better after his gall bladder operation. So would most of those running the ALP's campaign. The idea of Rudd on the loose around Queensland and further afield, even if ostensibly for Julia Gillard, fills most (admittedly not all) with fear.
Rudd's wife pointed to the escape hatch. ''I am encouraging him to take the time that is clinically advised to recover.'' She was sure he'd be ''up on his feet within the next couple of weeks''. He'd be following ''clinical medical advice'' on when to leave hospital and when ''he's allowed to resume normal activities''. Her emphasis was different from Rudd's, who on Friday anticipated hitting the campaign trail this week.
Whether Therese will be able to keep Kevin on the leash we'll have to see. But an enforced rest could be a saver all round, including for him. And the beauty is that it can be put down to ''medical advice''.
Rein's comments came on a day when Gillard performed quite well. It had opened badly, with an Age/Nielsen poll showing Labor facing defeat and The Australian reporting Gillard had sent a ''former bodyguard'' to attend cabinet's national security committee when she couldn't. But this ''leak'' lacked the potency of earlier ones. Gillard said staffer Andrew Stark, a former policeman, didn't represent her but took notes for her. This doesn't seem unreasonable: she was deputy PM and didn't hold a security-related portfolio.
As she wound up campaigning in Perth, bad poll notwithstanding, she looked more in charge than on Friday, when she'd been hounded by Rudd questions. She also seemed more herself: neither regally confected nor over-contrived.
''I'm in the fight of my life,'' she declared. ''I am a fighter.'' She set about highlighting the choice facing Australians on the economy, industrial relations and the like. ''Do you keep the economy strong … Or do you run the risk with Mr Abbott?''
In the next few days, Gillard has to get the focus onto the Opposition Leader. While it stays on her, she'll remain in deep trouble.
Not only is Labor divided but the policy fixes Gillard has put in have unravelled: the smaller miners are continuing the tax war; her plan for East Timor to have a processing centre for asylum seekers remains problematic; and the poll found more than half the voters oppose her citizens' assembly on climate.
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/08/01/2970011.htm?section=justin
Heavy flooding has killed at least 800 people and affected one million others in Pakistan.
Officials in Pakistan say they death toll from the flooding in the past week has risen to 800, while 150 others are still listed as missing.
Flash flooding and land slides have destroyed thousands of houses in north-western Pakistan.
The city of Peshawar has been cut off and roads have been washed away.
The United Nations estimates up to one million people have been affected by the floods.
Thirty thousand troops and dozens of helicopters have been deployed, but many districts are yet to receive any help.
Footage shot from helicopters has shown people clinging to walls and rooftops as water gushes through inundated villages.
Rescue teams are struggling to reach many areas where transport and communication have been cut off.
Further rain is expected in south-eastern Pakistan in the next few days.
Flooding has already been reported in the provinces of Sindh and Punjab.
UN Office for Humanitarian Affairs spokesman Manuel Bessler says they are struggling to access some of the worst affected areas.
"The needs are first of all still search and rescue. Secondly, shelter, to have emergency [shelter] for these affected people, then food," he said.
"There is a major need for health services and then of course drinking water. We have to bring drinking water to these affected people."
Thousands of people have also lost their homes across the border in Afghanistan.
Picture: Peter Newman.
Consternation, a flood of tears, anguish in the making, nothing would make me happier my dear, the sequence of blustering comments. If all else fails, smile in the face of fear, they say, across cracked porcelain ribs, across aching hearts, across a fetid, overheated atmosphere, with nothing but unresolved issues and contemporaneous pain, a thousand rich Bangkok gay boys squeezed into a single venue, an appalling drag show which they all applauded enthusiastically, as if nothing could be better than a poor version of Mariah Carey, thumped out loud so the speakers vibrated in unison with his ear drums, and over-moisturised, perfect young men crammed together, all eyes, all saying I belong here, this is our place. It wasn't his place. He felt more comfortable with the rent boys down at Hot Male Station. Everyone knew where they stood. They all welcomed him as part of the crew. He watched the other foreigners being stitched up, or hitched up, as you see it; now you don't. The fast and the furious, no doubt. Get it over with, get it done, take the baht and depart. But in the DJ's tunnel the lady boys in their uniforms swept up and down the alley, the high rent bars spilled off on either side, and in the multi-floored disco itself, well, you needed to be drinking. He downed his two free drinks for the price of entry, two bottles of water, in rapid succession, surrendered to a cigarette outside; and thought, oh bugger it, I'll sleep alone, for once. Hey, won't do you any harm. For once. It just seems wrong, man, this rare opportunity; but no, he went home alone.
The boy was off on a university science expedition; and it was a dangerous sign that he immediately felt out of sorts, as if things weren't right, without his loyal soldier and his constant companion; there, looking after him, taking care. He missed him and that was all there was to it. Simple things. He spent an hour talking to his daughter on Skype, this time with video connection; and he noticed the repeated attempts at contact the previous day; when the computer had been away. Oh soldier, come here, nestle with me. Their young frames caught in slow motion on the Sky Train. The girls, delicious, pert, like cartoon characters, some of them were so gorgeous, and gorgeously made up, with large black eyes and perfect make up. Oh come hither, come with me. There were times, ill at ease, when drawn to frightful queens for the fact of the theatre, he went to lunch with Jack the Washington lawyer, who called everyone dear in a pronounced, camp way, as if there was any doubt, and suddenly the boys in the street were thrusting gay porn at him as if there was no doubt, and when he said in the massage parlour "massage, boy", pointing to the best looking one there, Jack exclaimed: "Oh I wanted that one dear." The girls giggled and the boys grinned at him knowingly and all was managed in fine, short style. Oh, such a perfect day, they just keep me hanging on. Thank you Lou Reed.
We were easily surrounded. Australia seemed a long way away. Caught between consonants, laughing in the gaps, the streets were as shadows; the beggars with their plastic legs; the beggars with their well cared for children, looking too good to be genuinely poor. He took account. He didn't give them any money. He wasn't that desperate to earn merit. Enough had been done to help the strangest of creatures. He looked forward to change and he looked forward to things staying the same. He sat in the gangster's lair, probably for the last time, talking to the lawyer who was drawing up a contract for him; there by the pool. The pool had not been cleaned, nothing had been cleaned, that was obvious; and the drifts of browning frangapeni flowers and the dying leaves from the overhanging trees spoke to the fact that nothing had been done; Paul had stayed in his room. He stayed in his room this time around, too; as the lawyer told him of all the complexities of the case. They were winding up the house. There would be nowhere to go. Evil spirits get their comeuppance. Evil spirits cast adrift, if not on the high seas well then on to difficult streets, difficult places. They had looked after him well, too well, and now all of that was coming to an end. He was shadowed by former loves; haunted by strange beasts, by flashes of former lives, by unresolved injustices, not from this era, not from this century, but from thousands of years before. So when he saw the drift of dying leaves, the dying flowers by the pool, he knew retribution was at hand.
That in some strange way justice would out, that all that was fair and right would come to the fore. All those people the gangster had bashed. All those scams he had pulled. Now was the time to pay the piper; and the piper would be paid. Oh how it broke his heart to see the bastard suffer. Well he didn't even know that, but presumed, because the entire time he was there the gangster never emerged from his cell, his room which might as well have been a cell, so rarely did he come out of it. It's because he's depressed, the lawyer ventured, but whether or not that was the case he did not know. All he knew was that the air of decay that had settled over everything, not just in the untidy piles of browning flowers and dying leaves around the pool, but in the garbage that had begun to accumulate in every corner, the state of the house, the air of a bleak English gangster, the scales from his skin, impregnated in the walls, all that room, all that money, wasted, because no one went there, it was barely used. They could have seen this coming, they should have seen this coming. But instead they let the gangster take over their real estate, and destroy it for everyone else. So when he saw the damage done, those browning frangipani flowers, he knew that the day of retribution had come, that by staying faithful to the good, by maintaining a wholesome heart, he had avoided the evil that stalked the world, that swept through upmarket villas just like this one, and destroyed the most arrogant, most self centred, most assured criminals just like that, leaving them not just bereft, separated from their former lives, but destroyed, evicting them from luxury and leaving them as nothing but poisonous slugs feeding on mean streets, darkened asphalt and choking fumes.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.smh.com.au/federal-election/gillard-needs-to-put-abbott-in-the-frame-20100731-110ps.html
THERESE Rein is one sensible and savvy woman. Yesterday she seemed to be suggesting a way to get the ''Rudd factor'' under control in the campaign.
Speaking to journalists, she indicated she'd like to see Kevin confined for a while to get properly better after his gall bladder operation. So would most of those running the ALP's campaign. The idea of Rudd on the loose around Queensland and further afield, even if ostensibly for Julia Gillard, fills most (admittedly not all) with fear.
Rudd's wife pointed to the escape hatch. ''I am encouraging him to take the time that is clinically advised to recover.'' She was sure he'd be ''up on his feet within the next couple of weeks''. He'd be following ''clinical medical advice'' on when to leave hospital and when ''he's allowed to resume normal activities''. Her emphasis was different from Rudd's, who on Friday anticipated hitting the campaign trail this week.
Whether Therese will be able to keep Kevin on the leash we'll have to see. But an enforced rest could be a saver all round, including for him. And the beauty is that it can be put down to ''medical advice''.
Rein's comments came on a day when Gillard performed quite well. It had opened badly, with an Age/Nielsen poll showing Labor facing defeat and The Australian reporting Gillard had sent a ''former bodyguard'' to attend cabinet's national security committee when she couldn't. But this ''leak'' lacked the potency of earlier ones. Gillard said staffer Andrew Stark, a former policeman, didn't represent her but took notes for her. This doesn't seem unreasonable: she was deputy PM and didn't hold a security-related portfolio.
As she wound up campaigning in Perth, bad poll notwithstanding, she looked more in charge than on Friday, when she'd been hounded by Rudd questions. She also seemed more herself: neither regally confected nor over-contrived.
''I'm in the fight of my life,'' she declared. ''I am a fighter.'' She set about highlighting the choice facing Australians on the economy, industrial relations and the like. ''Do you keep the economy strong … Or do you run the risk with Mr Abbott?''
In the next few days, Gillard has to get the focus onto the Opposition Leader. While it stays on her, she'll remain in deep trouble.
Not only is Labor divided but the policy fixes Gillard has put in have unravelled: the smaller miners are continuing the tax war; her plan for East Timor to have a processing centre for asylum seekers remains problematic; and the poll found more than half the voters oppose her citizens' assembly on climate.
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/08/01/2970011.htm?section=justin
Heavy flooding has killed at least 800 people and affected one million others in Pakistan.
Officials in Pakistan say they death toll from the flooding in the past week has risen to 800, while 150 others are still listed as missing.
Flash flooding and land slides have destroyed thousands of houses in north-western Pakistan.
The city of Peshawar has been cut off and roads have been washed away.
The United Nations estimates up to one million people have been affected by the floods.
Thirty thousand troops and dozens of helicopters have been deployed, but many districts are yet to receive any help.
Footage shot from helicopters has shown people clinging to walls and rooftops as water gushes through inundated villages.
Rescue teams are struggling to reach many areas where transport and communication have been cut off.
Further rain is expected in south-eastern Pakistan in the next few days.
Flooding has already been reported in the provinces of Sindh and Punjab.
UN Office for Humanitarian Affairs spokesman Manuel Bessler says they are struggling to access some of the worst affected areas.
"The needs are first of all still search and rescue. Secondly, shelter, to have emergency [shelter] for these affected people, then food," he said.
"There is a major need for health services and then of course drinking water. We have to bring drinking water to these affected people."
Thousands of people have also lost their homes across the border in Afghanistan.
Picture: Peter Newman.
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