Merits of self-destruction

Bangkok, 18 March 2014.

I am enveloped in silence, hard to believe if you have ever spend one night in Bangkok but then one night in Bangkok makes even the toughest men humble, but then being here in this Ha Roi THB room in my old haunt  Soi Ngam Dupli, in this massive room where the walls are adorned with my latest art endeavour, drawings in color pencils of Miss Endoo dressed only in her Eva's costume lingering lavishly on the mussed bed, abandoned now for a much needed shower leaving me utterly alone to ponder the company that never ever during our mutual time here in the Thai capital leaves me alone...apart of course for these incessant shower sorties, Ron Ron Mak Mak, summer is approaching and with it the inevitable heat. Luckily the Thais possess a lot of water and do they know how the use it...

The wall above the dresser full with crayon sketches of a naked Miss Endoo, looking down at me and reminding me somehow of the my self chosen life of solitary, a passport and airline ticket my only Grandes Amigos, persuading myself gradually that being alone is GREAT and SACRED, chosen to be alone but now seriously wondering if I could survive being alone again...

Standing in the centre of this empty room that breaths and smells of Miss Endoo, immaculately clean - the female touch you know - shoes regimentally straight lined under the bed, her female pharaphenalia carefully arranged on the dresser table, lip stick and nail polish, prickly heat powder and skin ointment, tiger balsem and her combs...

No family buffaloe in the hospital needing expensive vet care, no family crisis up north in the Isan but a fat pinkish colored lady's wallet that spews forth money like the Etna volcano eruption destroying Pompeii making me somehow wonder if all this, this Asian love affair I once again got into head over Farang heels will destroy me as well at some given point...

Maybe I should run out of this Sala Thai Guesthouse, run below a blue Thai sky containing a fat primary yellow white sun, hot like hell that will probably cause me to perspire as though I am about the face the firing squat in some Caudillo ruled south American parody of a democracy, feeling once again the pangs of guild and anger, the merits of self-destruction doing a serious numero uno demolition job on my already over-damaged Kharma...