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Fiery Jack

Fairy Tales For Tired Men: Fiery Jack's Real-Time September 2014 Trip Report

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So here I come. So here I am. While I still can. Here again. My friends. It's that sad and fattened alcoholic old tosspot Fiery Jack. Remember he? :help:


Some persons here have been my friends, through good good times and shit times. I love that. So I write this, hoping they still listen, still remember, still return. I'm a humble man. From whence I came, to where I am. :hug:


It's been a long time. I arrive at 8pm. I write this on an iphone I will later lose, but not before I've mailed this to myself...


9pm. Nana Hotel. Hello hello. Same same. Check in. Shit. Shave. Shower. Out. :devil:


My first foray: Bar 4. Get the motor running. Beer in the quiet. But bonkers woman pushing 45 with a face like a Motörhead B-side :yikes: , rolls up to ruin it. :doah: Clearly on speed and a bipolar high wire, this asian Susan Boyle lookalike makes my life (which was going great guns) an immediate magical misery tour. I thought this was meant to be good. Suddenly, it is not. :(


Moments ago I was happy. Now I only wish she'd go away. That is the biggest thought in my little mind. I wish this tedious bore would go away. I try to be as unpleasant as I can, without being rude. Water off a duck's back to her. I say, 'Please go away.' She stays. I wish she'd go away. :cussing:


I go away instead. 2 beers and a ruined repose: 160 baht.


Up the road. Stumble Inn: anything now for a quiet life. But the horror show continues. 3 old bangers who look like the mothers of the toilet cleaners (who, yes, I know, are better looking than the barstool gals) in Soi 7 Beergarden approach me with the subtlety and speed of Joey Barton in for a career-ending tackle. 'Mistah, you want a friend?' Yes, but what's that got to do with you, you 3 hideous witches? No thanks. They disappear. Like magic, not like magi. 3 beers: 320 baht. :shakehead


Nana Plaza then. Cut to the chase. Spanky's! Yes, Spanky's! Spanky's never lets you down! :chili:


Spanky's lets me down. :crazy: Didn't this place used to be good? Hmmm. Bob Dylan was right. Overweight pot-bellied mediocre girls thumping the floor aimlessly with rolled up black plastic tubes that look like they might contain college diplomas but, here and now, they clearly do not. Sad, in a way. Not sexy, in any way. I'm outta here. I request the bill. The DJ, a disgruntled stocky Thai gentleman who looks as world wearily bored as I am, brings it to me.


Okay Rainbow 4. You can't go wrong there. :applause: Past the scrum of katoeys trying to block my way to anywhere apart from having my wallet stolen, and I'm in. Rainbow 4. Ha! 90% Japs. :grinyes: :grinyes: :grinyes: As expected. And Japs equal money. So... Most gals passable, 7/10. 3/10 for their scattershot English; more for their focused Japanese.


Stage packed. Shufflers. Doing the stub-a-cigarette-out two step. A couple of them have their small tits out, maybe one in ten. Others keep bikinied and on-the-spot shuffling like they're waiting for a bus and busting for a pee, still stubbing out that pesky invisible Marlboro butt. :sleeping:


This is my Rainbow now. Very Japanese punters doing that very Japanese thing: solo seated, studiously studying the bit between the dancers' thighs as if it's a Petri dish specimen. No one speaks. From where I lurch I can see two other white guys. No blacks. And about 50 japs. :grinyes: :grinyes: :grinyes:


But things change here. First good looking bird of the night accosts me, and we have a few jars. beer: Feisty M from Isaan. Been here for 3 weeks she says, as liars do. One kid. Husband a wife-beating gambling alkie. The usual story.


Tequila then. And again. I'm getting pissed/interested. She has to dance. On stage, I realise she's fatter than I'd hoped. Big tits and spacehopper hips. She's here again. Harro hansum man. And I fall from this Edenic height like an old pack of blistered ripped-up drink-stained cards. I am lost luggage, but I'm on the carousel. Bill!


Bill paid, all honest, I almost sidle out of the door like a shoplifting thief. I am scared of this. I am scared of my life. I am not drunk enough. I am never drunk enough. I should be sober. I should be better. But I'm not. I am definitely not. Tequila goggles keep me where I am. And this is okay. We stay.


Tequila! Four more tequilas later, it's all good. Of course it is. I knock a beer all over a Japanese guy, but he's red round the gills and gravitating fast toward the floor: he deserves it, complains little. Viewed through the warm tequila haze, M is now an oil painting. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman I have seen if not ever then at least tonight. :wub:


Bar fine. Back to mine.


Nana Hotel. The chilly room and the awkward shower. She's a big girl, and she's a good girl. She's had one baby but she's firm. She lays me down, not that I need much persuading. She could suck a wine gum through a keyhole and, minutes later, she's a shouter. The usual clumsy gymnastics. :relieved:


I awaken five hours later. Three condoms strewn on the carpet round the bed. All of them empty. She is gone. Wallet still here. Good. Good. :up:


All is calm. I am here. I walk to the window and watch the moon through smudgy glass. It's beautiful. Stunning and super.


It's always a super moon. You just have to be there. And, in this moment, this time, there is where I am.


It reminds me. I knew someone once who used to just stop, wherever we were, if we were outdoors or there was a window nearby: walking home blootered, running for an angry morning bus, late for an evening train, standing in the pissing rain, even crossing a busy street or whatnot. She'd stand still. She'd say, 'Look. Look at the sky. Look how beautiful it is. Why doesn't everyone always just look at the sky?' :spin:


And she was right. I look at the sky whenever I can. It is always beautiful. It is always new. I think about her and I look at the sky. :shhh:


jack :help:

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Outstanding FJ :applause: Laughed my arse off. Be careful or you may get accused of being me :biggrin:

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as all of the above, same here, write some more......


as far as NP is concerned, the place that really rocks today is Spellbound, groundfloor on the left, managed by Dave Guru and he does a good job !



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