YimSiam

No, no, I'm sure it's the usual: "behave like a good boy, like a cop who learned some fucking basic lessons on the way up the food chain, and we promise you'll die - quickly, decently, no disruption to the flow of karmic energy and off you go to your next life. or, you keep running around screaming and shouting about how you didn't realize that there was actually a massive unaccountable power structure in place, and that sometimes it does bad things, and now you want to get off the little toy train ride and do whatever it is people do in Australia when they migrate there... in which case: the threat is life, dangerous, painful, uncertain - and without any of the grace of taking the quiet, decent way out...

They should at least give the slaves some of the better jobs in the outfit, as a kind of acknowledgement for the other drawbacks of the slave contractual status... It's certainly out there - sometimes a bit disguised, or semi-temporary, so it's not exactly black folks in the cotton fields (although it is Burmese in the cotton t-shirt factories on thai of the border, and Karen and Mon in the farms and plantations - bought and sold and put to work in groups, eventually sprung free by some ally or other - or not) Shocking to see it in a modern factory context, though - agriculture, fishing, somehow not as shocking, but assembly lines for garments and products we use ourselves, it was a surprise to me to hear credible stories about it - and almost all the people I've talked to take it as totally just another incidence of good or bad luck, no outraged, just glad it's over.

Anyone who's focused on Ms. Mumu in that picture needs to stop wasting his time lamenting the gentle waves of ladyboys lap, lap, lapping at all shores of the nightlife scene, and go and have a deep think about what it is he's really after in those wee hours of Sukhumvit, with the black-out drapes of the soul pulled tight against the light...

Christ, anyone in that position - their story and threats true or false - should just sit down and be quiet and SHUT THE FUCK UP! Bring all that shit on yourself, when you claim to be seeking protection? How is it that these folks don't realize that perhaps later would be the time to open their mouths to the press? Political stuff gets out of control of administrative decisions like asylum, very quickly... Not like he didn't know what he was engaged in, all serious stuff...

Next movie I am going to see: Silk 2007. Just because...

Halloween, Christmas, that crazy Hindu pierce-yourself holiday - if it'll sell hotel rooms, it's on the calendar with TAT!

For states largely created out of various forms of capture and coerced or voluntary retention of laborer populations, states who exist only in direct relation to the people they can retain as income producers on lucrative fields, it's going to be a long time before slavery or quasi-slavery practices are transformed into more palatable ways of retaining and controlling labor - and the high seas are a tricky place to do that, especially. Rice farmers, okay, free. Factory workers, pretty free. But ships? Who gives a fuck about ships? And human rights! Human rights are for people - the crew on those boats are Myanmar, so... Fuck Nestle, fuck Bumblebee. China and India getting hungry... Sell to China - and if there are a few insubordinate crew members on board the fleet, cut 'im, can 'im, and bon appetit to the Chinese masses.

It's a cryin' shame, what they're planning to do to the joint - go in their like Tyson Chicken and offer up bigger, whiter, more consistent flesh, with less respect or appreciation for subtleties of local flavor that is the natural result of farm-fresh, micro-operation chicken outfits - you won't find a single fun-and-crazy-as-hell, skin as dark as your own heart Buriram madwoman in there, I betcha. No Nakhon Sawan hard drinkers with laughter like medicine and a folding blade in her bra - no sir. What I'm thinking you'll see is first a set of Thai hostess types, two meters and fake tits and big dumb and boring... And that won't work really, I hope (because of my unshakeable faith in the true goodness and sense of discernment amongst my fellow man, I hope - I hope, fucking endlessly). First thing they do is turn a bit of blind eye and next thing you know, half the wait staff are kathoeys, just nobody knows which half - and yes, they're a little more geared for jokes and the camp style of hooters, so it buys them some time. But still not making money, not as much as say a hair salon or internet cafe/laundry that fronts for whatever. So they call up some birds from the Philippines, vets from their branches in PI. But they are not appropriate cognizant of long-standing arrangements between business, birds and bibs, so even though Hoots try to get the flips to set 'em straight, the cops get their visas pulled.. At that point, probably hooters calls it a day, hopefully, realizes that all their outfits in Thailand are not worth the trouble they have to go to to find the right staff and corner, and so they walk off - and some bloke changes a letter or two in the name, downgrades the staff to a healthy mix of lunatics, pros, outcasts and the odd LB from that Nana elite, Stops selling chicken wings, too. And we're back to where we started, mainly: a simple bar on the wrong side of the street, that knows its place in the world from simple experience. Like the girls who work it, and the punters who help hold down the barstools and track the temperature of the so-called Ice Cold Beer on offer. Life is Golden - shouldn't your beer bar be, too?

Agree - unsettling scent at the neck and "hom" areas, not quite right. Something about the width of the back and shoulders, too - Thai girl can have brilliant broad shoulders, but more like the females in Khmer art, somehow they are still right - better than right! - even though there are sharp and wide. Not the same on the LBs.

I'm surprised no one can be bothered so far to get out to those two points and get us a couple updated scenes? Or maybe just use a marker and draw in some heavy shades of cynicism, hostility and despair at the human condition - that's what I tend to notice mainly now, but that's probably just me... Fucking Nana. Fucking fuck. And yet I return and return, moth to flame.

RIP John Trudell, Native American voice. In a world like this, what can you fucking do but move on to the next, right?

Ah, so it seems you have also met Jane. Or Patty. Also, Kimberly. Quite a handful fit that description, I'd say. It's always useful to remember that the girls of Lower Suk are best considered part of a team, as a loose union of individuals pursuing a collective goal - the introduction of a good bit of daylight between farang men and their money. And every team has specialists - may not run so fast, but is natural leader, etc. The big girls outside the cosmetology laboraties down there, their role is an ugly one, comic even, hideous - but it's one that's crucial: the ever-present threat of any situation exploding into violence. They're pretty much the same as the enforcer or two that every hockey team needs to maintain credibility against the enemy. Someone's gotta take the punches, do the penalty minutes, and put some teeth on the pavement. Jane, Kimberley, Patti: there is no "I" in transgender...

Last night, in the end I couldn't even get a woman by paying, and I was in the heart of the post-paid pussy jungle in Bangkok! Sometimes things just don't line up right, and you can end up dragging yourself home alone... Shocked to find myself arriving back at the room in the morning, without anyone to help me shower and so forth. I even tried to summon a couple regulars by SMS as a last resort - and that didn't even work. Appalling state of affairs, truly. Shall not be repeated. Perhaps some have found themselves in a similar position - the wild night has passed, bars are closed and you're not about to scrape up some Suk freelancer, even if you could suss out a good looking one. But you want some company - who you gonna call?! Anyone call escorts... or massage... or? What's your advice on finding an urgent last-minute companion in the wee and morning hours?

Does this still apply to the same degree if she started taking hormone therapy at, say, 11 or 12 years old? Throw all those drugs into a pre-pubertal body, and things will grow in some very different directions!

Federica Mogherini - yeah, the EU Foreign Minister... What can I say, she does it for me. Zeinab Badawi, too. Just a thing I have for her. Yes, I would.

That's a useful starting point, at least - the pussy smell and taste! Real lady will be saltier and have the rich, complex blend of human herbs and spices. Ladyboys are bland - mucous and lube, without the subtle sub-bouquet. (It was - for a short but inspired period at least - my 'Get Rich Quick" scheme to produce some dank-n-earthy Real Pussy Smell spray-on scent and lube package - figured the ladyboy who has everything might not have that, a useful addition to their handbag that eliminates at least that element of possibly getting figured out by her john of the evening...) I'm going to go with some of the lesser-known tests: Is she from Central Thailand - Sukhothai-Phitsanulok-etc? Did she go to high school? Does she have just fucking amazing natural breasts, like out of a classy magazine, balanced marvels? If you kind of squint your eyes and imagine her with just her bone structure, and you switch out her female surface for a possible male surface, does the bone structure suddenly make sense as the frame that should support a man in usual circumstances? Does she have a picture of her baby on her mobile screen, that she made sure to show you the first time you met? If you answered yes to any of those questions, well, that hardly proves anything, does it?! You're still where you were in the beginning - not sure, but with growing suspicion... And while I'm at it - no mamasan worth her salt will tell you the girl is a ladyboy unless the girl is happy to have you know it - the secrets of the ladyboy sisterhood are fiercely guarded... The blow job myth - it's just a myth, is my conclusion. The worst bjs I've had have been either really inexperienced girls, where it's just a waste of time, and ladyboys who just don't seem to have what it takes for a very good bj. Warning: sample size on this one is not particularly large, and when I say 'very good bj' I mean Lolita/Star of Love, etc quality. Which is maybe too much to ask of almost any mortal - except the girls of the bj bars... YS

Pretty much a leap of faith, really.

Oh, let me count the ways!

T minus 1, motherf*ckers! I have a flight booked into Bangkok from Beirut... and then a flight booked back to Beirut from LAX three weeks later. What happens, and where, in that three weeks interlude is known only at this point to the mind of God...

After careful examination, I'm glad to find that I am not the blithering idiot in question. Not this time.

I don't think there's hardly anyone who simply CAN'T, except for the truly socially depraved (and many of them get lots, actually) and people with real problems interacting with others. If you can order at McDonald's, you can get a woman in this world. It's not the getting, I think - it's the capability of sustaining a relationship, of making the right tradeoffs to keep someone, of caring enough about anyone but oneself that is important. I lack one or more of the qualities or commitments that makes me desire being with someone for a longer time, or for pretending enough to get with women for a shorter time - emotionally damaged goods, I'm sure, but whatever it is, in the end, the rental arrangement helps me pass the time.

That's the thirteenth century Italian poet in me coming through... tangled up in....

As I've said elsewhere: please, don't denigrate me by calling me a sex tourist! I'm not a sex tourist - I'm a sex TRAVELER! (This will make little sense to some, but complete sense to those who have spent time on the backpacker roads of Asia, where a distinct social hierarchy places anyone remotely 'touristy' is on the bottom, and the 'travelers' ride the top of the backpacker pecking order... The more remote the locations visited, the longer time spent on the road, the shittier lodging, the less contact with home - all the better, you move up to Traveler status! Now, where the joke gets its laughs, is because - well shit, as also said elsewhere, if you have to explain a joke, it ain't funny, is it?) YimSiam

The Voices - Ryan Reynolds, Amy Adams. Jesus, what poor judgment this film was. Don't do it. Can't imagine how it saw what little light of day it did see.

Maybe my guilt response has been sublimated into something deeper and less immediately identifiable (we might guess, further motivation to drink away my sins), but these days when I pass through Thailand and manage to string together a few good STs in the classic tradition, I consider it a moral victory and great success... it has reached that point. I suppose it's not all doom and gloom - part of it is that I just am not so motivated to keep adding to my tally of beyond-meaningless transactional orgasms, and devaluation of that particular currency cannot be a bad thing, in terms of my prospects for getting to some sort of more normal life. What I find when I'm back - and I'll be back soon, so I find that I'll soon be seeking exactly this - is, that I'm looking to revive the memories, to relive the adventures, to bring back the mad spark that was struck and nourished until it became a really fun but insane bonfire - I'm looking for the same girls that were part of my explorations before, the ones that led, followed or stood by my side during some really fantastic times when all was still fresh and exciting, trolling the gutters and slum paths of Bangkok for months and years, a symbiotic team of dependents adrift in the morning hours. There was an intimacy there that I won't find again, I'm sure, but I'm still left with residuals - memories, habits, and the desire to somehow find that spark again, even if it means tracking down girls who were not young ten years ago, but who still give me the chance to relive those days. Shagging? Yeah, some of that too, in Thailand.