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Fiery Jack

My Heavy Heart And The Open Arms Of The Night: Fiery Jack's March Trip Report

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Touchdown on Thursday afternoon. Nana Hotel please. Check in 5pm. Bag dumped. Key dropped.

 

Start the show slowly with five happy hour pints of stout in the Irish pub near Bus Stop on Soi Nana. Hanratty's? Hanrahans? Some murderous name. It's shit and expensive (100 sheets a pint even during guzzler's hour) but it's air conditioned thus not treacle-muggy, and you don't get hassled by slack old bangers who look like extras from the Addams Family and want 'to be your friend' (see under Morning Night/Stumble Inn as poetically rendered, with some poignancy, in that old six-triggered rogue Fiery Jack's second last brilliant Trip Report).

 

The birds that serve in Hanratty's/Hanrahan's are all tastier than the beer too (though no doubt much more expensive): I tip my trilby to the manager. The one that brought me a dull-looking platter of cardboard 'fish and chips' was full of fun and wouldn't have looked out of place at Rainbow (or on the end of my cock, come to think of it). Lovely tits and nipples like chapel hat pegs under a Liverpool (or was it Chelsea?) shirt that looked like it had been sprayed on by a particularly skilful pervert. Or maybe that's the manager's job as well as hiring? If so, I tip my titfer in his direction once more.

 

I thought about suing the menu writer, for in my fish-and-chip dish fish there was none. Plenty of batter, but scant piscatorial flesh to speak of. I had a sixth pint and staggered out into the treacherous arms of another sultry Thai March night.

 

Get as far as Golden Beer Bar where I hurtle into the leery intoxicated gaze thence wide-open arms of a not unattractive freelancer I do not know from Adam but who claims she 'have good boom boom' with me in January. Good news: the memory's gone but the pussy radar's still functioning, even under a fierce deluge of beer, it seems. Why not? I accompany her to my Nana Hotel room and have my first soberish (though not sobering) sex for some time. She is kind and attentive. I feel less than lonely awhile: this is okay. I will remember this hour, and some things I thought were frightening won't be so scary any more.

 

We part cordially in the Nana lobby after, my wallet 2000 baht lighter, cheap price to pay for the way I feel now. She heads 'home'; I enter Nana Plaza.

 

It's all a storm of tequila and Heineken thereafter, waking at 5am in my room with a chubby young bird, of who's provenance I am unaware (Rainbow 4? I remember being in there at some point, but she seems too rough-looking. Maybe a takeaway from Nana car park? That would seem to be more her league) pulling her pants up awkwardly beside my bed whilst trying to keep a towel on (a sort of poor persons' arse-backwards Houdini act) and three discarded condoms on the carpet (all empty). She trousers 3000 baht and bids me farewell. No idea whether I shagged her or not. If I were a gambling man, I'd bet on the latter (though the odds would not be good).

 

What was that I was saying about the FJ Pussy Radar still being reliable even under a gallon of wines and spirits? Maybe not.

 

(But I shagged the other one, and it was sublime. Swings and roundabouts, and the moral is, just keep moving.)

 

I rise at 11 with a heavy heart and a whore of a hangover. I write this. More will follow.

 

jack :help:

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That's the kind of first day that my memory just can't hold for more than an hour running these days - good of you to put it on the proverbial paper before it has slipped your mind, and this trip is just the usual blur under the heading "The Time I Had Shit Fish n Chips After Checking In And Can't Recall The Rest".

 

Enjoy -

 

YimSiam

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Soi 7 beer garden really is a pitiful beast, a living advert for euthanasia or at best suicidal alcoholic despair. The last time I saw such a shockingly motley bunch of miserably unattractive, deeply unnerving, palpably desperate and clearly mentally unwell females under the same roof was decades ago at the ouch drunk fight club known as Champers Nite Club in my UK hometown. and that's why I have not lived in Britain for the last 25 years.

 

Yes, you are a prostitute. Yes, you are desperate. Yes, it's a shit world. But stop staring/gesturing/shouting at me like a deranged harridan from across the fucking room. It draws attention to you and, more unforgivably, to me. I would, after some careful consideration, rather stick a red-hot steel poker up my arse than have any form of sexual contact or even be seen in public talking to you. No, I am not going to beckon you over, just as I wasn't two minutes ago, or on the other 23 times you've tried to engage my attention in the 30 minutes since I crossed the threshold to this hellhole.

 

Dignity is, of course, priceless. Which means it is free. These morons don't get that.

 

(Anyway, I probably shagged you 10 years ago, when you were young and pretty, and so was I. Let it go. Let it go.)

 

I have 4 bottles of beer and go home. My world is blurred and skewed and warped in ways it never used to be. And yet some parts are clearer.

 

jack :help:

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Jack....I just love your posts!

 

If I had "unlimited resources" I would fly you to Thailand on a regular basis with the only condition being that you post about it!

 

 

"Dignity is, of course, priceless. Which means it is free. These morons don't get that.

 

(Anyway, I probably shagged you 10 years ago, when you were young and pretty, and so was I. Let it go. Let it go.)"

 

...if there is ever a Thai360 Hall of Fame this will go in it.....

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The beautiful thing about Jack, he keeps it raw and real and isn't shy about shining the same critical lens he views the world in on himself. He brings it.

 

I've never met the guy or had a conversation with him, but I personally find it a relief to read someone with a little passion still coursing through their veins. Who... has the rare ability to articulate it.

 

Thank fucking god.

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I've never met the guy or had a conversation with him, but I personally find it a relief to read someone with a little passion still coursing through their veins.

 

I think you are mistaking Jim Beam for "passion" - though I prefer the former, in a pinch.

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I have previously suggested to include Jack´s works into the World Cultural Heritage and keep on doing so . He succeeds in transforming paid boomboom into something meaningful .

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I think you are mistaking Jim Beam for "passion" - though I prefer the former, in a pinch.

 

Dear sir, I would like to put forth the proposition that those two things are not necessarily mutually exclusive, depending.

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