Family and Fate

Students,

Some of you may know that the reason for my absence here is a family emergency that led to my leaving Thailand and returning to the UK. It's very hard to put into words how I feel about my father battling leukemia and that's why I haven't tried to, even though I've wanted to. I'm actually afraid I've shied away from confronting my true feelings and going through it in my head. My family have told me I should do this as, to them, talking is a way of coming to terms with what's happened/is happening. Unfortunately though I can't. To be honest I see it all as cruel fate and after cursing the universe repeatedly for this terrible senseless thing I find what's left is too painful to talk about. So far I've chosen to keep my mind as uncomplicated - trivial if you like - as possible. But then that becomes a problem in itself and, as I read back over my 40 (!) previous blogs one thing that hits home is that maybe I'd created myself a world focused on me alone. Everything was intentionally trivial, on my own terms, and nothing touched me because I was too busy. Now that has gone (even temporarily) and I've got to adapt to a situation that's beyond my control. I've got to find the means to cope with doing what I came back to do: support my mother and sister at this time. I've also got to let go of my feelings - however incomprehensible and contradictory they are - and I may as well do that here...

I realise now that being away from home for so long had an impact on my family relationships. I was feeling this year like I had found both my path and myself after a painful few years of self-doubt. I was finally doing things my way. The only thing was that my family didn't fit into this picture and, even though my parents visited my new home, I failed to act as they wanted me to. Yet, isn't this a similar picture for any non-conformist mid-20s man who has left in search of something that better suits their needs? Is a feeling of alienness so uncommon in a family? (Especially one that is geographically separated.)

The fact is that different lives work for different people and I don't think my enthusiastic recounting of an all-night party in Bangkok's gay clubs would go down too well with my folks even though it's of gripping interest to myself and my friendship group! In another way discussing life after leukemia is not really something I wish to contribute to. I choose to be a listener and though I don't mind this role it does tend to make me go internally crazy. In my regular conversation I am realistic, brief, and to the point; I wonder is there a point when trying to make sense of the future? Do you get my frustration?

When my parents began to find themselves frustrated with me around their house (it never takes long as we have opposite views on the best way to use free time - I like the daily routine of free time to lack 'routine' tasks as much as possible) they began to call me "selfish." They still can't understand why I long for silence and peace on my own or that I want to be away from my home country. They also can't understand why I'm unable to be satisfied in my teaching job here or else put my feelings on hold for the sake of my father and the more-important situation. After a couple of months with them I've failed to cry openly, pour my heart out, or want to be there as they did these things. Does that make me a bad son? A closed-off person divorced from matters of family? Am I inherently selfish?

After mulling the above questions I think that my personality such as it is doesn't easily lend itself to huge affection or being the backbone of a family. I'd never want to start and raise a family myself; I prefer instead to show kindness in my work with young people. Don't get me wrong I do care but I'm fiercely private by nature and my identity is largely defined by my friendships. My friends don't matter more than my family (obviously they don't or I wouldn't be in the UK right now), but they allow me a freedom and joy that is entirely me. I've known my family all my life and there are fundamental differences in how we see and respond to the world. Their lives, their world, has always been here and it probably always will be. There's nothing wrong with that but I've known the 'real me' for only a short time and I love it. It is tied to Thailand and right now in England it seems so foreign. I am apart from my community, my lover, my life, my world.

Having said all of the above you have to ask if it really amounts to much when faced with such a serious situation that hits so close to home? This is the paradox I wrestle with and feel guilt over as I lie awake at night. It's a paradox because they say that something as serious as a life or death situation makes you take stock, recognise what is important, and focus on that. My Dad is of upmost importance to me. His body cannot let him down and I won't even consider that possibility even as my mother and sister question "What if?" It's too upsetting. He has given me so much and now I find it hard to give back. But I try and I try again and my actions or seeming inactions, my stunted expressions of how I feel don't seem to give what is required of me in the situation. I love deeply and truely however, what I say and what I do is misconstrued because in my mind I'll admit I cannot help feeling resentful and I cannot deny the importance of all I have that is not here. I can only repress these feelings for so long before they explode to the surface, usually ruining a dinner and making me look like a petulant child.

I wish I could eloquently explain to my parents how the life I found is so important. It comforts me, inspires me, makes me feel in step with everything. It is everything. Then again can't you say the same of the people who gave birth to you, guided you, taught you, invested time and money in you over and over and over again? After all, any contradictions of personality, instances of fierce temper, stubbornness, and self-conflict, all of this alienness was inherited or founded in my formative years. Sometimes when I teach and have to chastise a student I surprise myself by spouting out some expression belonging to my mother. It's scary and epic how much is shared and how much I owe my family; it's in my head and my blood. Nobody makes me feel as they do.

What I found overseas and claimed as mine is something I won't share and I need it back soon. When I get the chance I will take it back with both hands, but I think I will do so with a greater sense of purpose and humility because that's what my family - and my brave father - is giving me now however much I try to resist. The life that they had made for themselves has been torn apart suddenly and devastatingly and as I struggle to cope, feel out of control, and take it all out on them I am still humbled by their love and commitment and their positive belief. That's why I know in the end everything will be ok, fate will right itself and we can all go back to normal. In the meantime I will cope by taking control where I can. I will be true to my work and my personal life by doing good things for and with my students, and staying in touch with my boyfriend and my friends. Lastly I will show solidarity, tolerance, and love to my family by just being here. That's all I can do.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Make sure to come back again soon for nice pictures and less 'heavy' issues. See you next time!

x Teacher

Shoot-to-Kill

Students,

I choose not to be around persons whom annoy and/or irritate me but sometimes I have no choice in the matter when such folk refuse to extricate themselves from my personal world. Now I know it shouldn’t bother me so much when I encounter Thai men openly hunting for treasure in their nasal passages while I’m on my morning commute. Maybe it also shouldn’t distress me when I hop hurriedly from the subway carriage only to face a line of Thai ladies dripping elegance in their high-heeled shoes but refusing to consider walking up the escalator so we can reach daylight through moving rather than standing still. However by far the worst offenses to my sensibilities are committed by fellow foreign guys who bring their pals into confined spaces with me only to a) raise the temperature with their sweaty bodies and b) raise my blood pressure with continued loud referencing of their sex lives. To them I posit yes, you are with a similarly grubby friend whose mid-life crisis no doubt has him eager to discuss these issues and yes, the majority of the public cannot understand what you’re harping on about… BUT I CAN! It wouldn’t be so bad if this was a rare occurrence but sadly for me it is a frighteningly frequent one. Investing in a new I-Pod has never seemed like such a good idea even though the last one brought annoyance through its continual malfunction (like every piece of technology I own) and also once led me to knock a motorcyclist over since I was so distracted by it... Maybe I was de-stressing with Metallica...

What is the answer? As you’d expect I have one. Last night I went to see the film Wanted with Angelina Jolie and new hot Scot James McAvoy. Leaving aside the storyline (which it seemed was written by a 15 year-old computer gamer) I was somewhat turned on by the idea of international assassinations. In fact by the end I was thoroughly convinced of the social benefits of hiring a mercenary to take out the few who cause me such consternation. Now let me emphasize that I am a devout pacifist; by way of example I can tell you that I can’t even bring myself to exterminate a large cockroach I sighted patrolling my kitchen floor over the last few mornings. My solution has simply been to make a loud (not at all girlish) noise and hope it’s gone when I open my eyes. But I have been tempted to inform my boyfriend of the pest because I know he’d be all for exacting a death sentence. Going back to the point of our topic though, as I sat in the cinema last night my mind settled itself on two definite targets – this time a pair I am acquainted with and really wish I weren’t – whom I would put in range for head shots without hesitation.

Teacher’s Death List

Kill 1. Saying you hate someone is kind-of strong, right? Well I hate a South-African guy we’ll call Farem. He lives with Na and has consistently proved himself to be one of the most repulsive creatures I’ve ever encountered. Allow me to explain. Farem is of large build and with a hairy belly which he plumps out for effect. He has the manner of certain bitchy self-promoting gays but turned up to about 11. He struts around invading the space of others with little care and with an odd sneer across his ugly face. While living alongside him he repeatedly remarked that he knew I’d like to sleep with him (I’d rather sleep with a rotting animal carcass actually) and even went so far as to barge in on me in the shower. He also has a fondness for playing mind games such as openly gossiping about me with my former partner; this is perhaps the main reason I despise the man. Trouble is even though we now don’t live in the same place I still can’t seem to be rid of him. I see him everywhere – out clubbing, on the street, on public transport, etc. The fact that he has followed (or perhaps encouraged) Na’s odd example to look/dress a little ‘draggish’ only adds to his toxicity. The final solution can only be a shoot-to-kill order.

Kill 2. This candidate is another whose presence I feel everywhere. There are certain individuals whom I would adore to feel everywhere but not this one. Let’s call him Xanzibar. The pock-faced irk is a couple of years younger than me and a foreigner of Eastern European origin. I feel the world – or the gay world at any rate – would be much happier if he were not part of it. Live and let live can change to die and let die in his case. My reasons: Similarly to Farem he constantly wears an affected smug expression that suggests you are not worthy of his greatness. Nothing could be further from the truth. Xanzibar is so white he is practically transparent and even though he is a man of few words all of them are dumb and filled with misguided self-importance. He is BORING. He also tries to look cool with a lollipop stick in his mouth whenever strolling around the club. Worst crime though – he’s joined the same gym and seems to be there whenever I am. Yeeech! The gym should be a place for me to release endorphins and admire beautiful people, not toads like he! Shoot-to-kill needed.

In both of these cases self-delusion and seeming arrogance could mask insecurities but I think the simpler answer is the correct one: they are just unpleasant. And maybe I am too for suggesting they should be wiped out. However my blog is about my world and in my world I call the shots. So… Bang and bang!

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Leave the marking to me and get on with the rubbing out.

.

x Teacher

Picture Post - Out & About

Students,

I’ve been talking a lot about the social mores of Bangkok, but often words cannot do justice to the exciting times your devoted Teacher enjoys when not in class. Therefore I will stop talking and let you once more nosily peruse some snaps from my photo album. Below you will see another saucy image from my recent drama collaboration as well as assorted friends, lovers, and crazy colleagues.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Hit the town.

x Teacher

Brotherly Love

Students,

I have been putting off telling you about a secret pain afflicting my very core, but there comes a time to talk about such things so here goes. I wish to speak of a fine Californian gentleman whom has now left the party in Bangkok and, in doing so, left behind a broken-up soul brother in myself. Not only that but I reckon if I were to venture out alone sans partner in crime, the clubs we once frequented would be filled with the many he loved (for one night only) and has now callously moved 5000 miles away from. And for what? J.W. always RSVP’d and was never one to go home early. Even when his brother bowed out from a night of sweat and glitter, he kept on going in a manner not dissimilar to those pink Duracell bunnies. Of course that was not the only quality he shared with the rabbit family…

I mourn his departure for our time together was so very brief. We bonded over a shared passion for dancing and di… disco. In fact I believe our first meeting was the result of the classic dance-off situation where two gentlemen meet under a hail of neon lights and must decide whether they are bed partners or life partners. We were the latter. But not in the tedious ‘let’s meet up and discuss love and interior design’ sense. Our shared interest was for playing hard and living fast. Yes, we’d teach during the day and tick all the boxes required of us but come the cover of darkness we took it to the clubs and we gave it good…

Too emphatic? Maybe. But the level of fun with J.W. was always several notches above normal. On a particularly memorable Saturday he decided to add a little bleach to his hair. After losing track of time while chatting he suddenly realized his blonde locks should have been rinsed out already so he rushed to the sink and was gone for some minutes. On returning, all present were interested to discover that J.W.’s hair had turned blue. But being him he didn’t worry, didn’t despair, he just laughed, worked the look, and danced his cares away later. As blogged previously, the right kind of confidence and the right kind of attitude was enough to get this smart guy exactly what and where he wanted that night.

Another night J.W. really made me smile was when he expressed his interest in moving from the dancefloor of late club G.O.D. (Guys On Display) to what can only be described as a ‘bird cage’ hanging next to it. Alright, it was bigger than a bird cage but it served the same purpose – get inside and you’d be prodded and poked by all around and at the least, be gawped at and talked about. In the spirit of play I got us inside and there we climbed, shirtless and hysterical, laughing at the absurdity of our situation. We let go and lived life. We were together at 4am in a crowded gay dance club. There were hot ‘up for it’ guys everywhere and as we moved to the beat we knew that if gay men deserved a place of worship, then G.O.D. was their church.

I mentioned missing J.W. today and as the friend I was talking to glanced my way he noted that I looked as if I could cry. Being British and none too emotional it surprised me to find he was right, I could cry at my brother’s absence. No longer does he call me every lunchtime mocking himself and a scene that had been caused by another of his over-eager Thai suitors. We can’t meet for dinner only to get drunk on sake instead. And he isn’t there to listen patiently to my musing about Na before snapping me out of it to make sure I’m laughing too.

In short although the man says he has plans to return, he must return. Soon. I demand nothing less. Because until he does the world will seem just a little less well… blue.

J.W. – One-of-a-kind. A legend. Gone but not forgotten, as I adapt to party time without you by my side, I’ll try to ensure your (dis)honour lives on through me. Until you come back. Soon, dammit.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Don’t feel blue. That’s for me not you.

x Teacher

Drama at the Disco

Students,

Some of you may have heard the rumours and the whispers in the streets of my return to the bosom of theatre. Yes sweetie darlings, the Drama Type is returned. Last Saturday night I trod the boards (or the dancefloor at least) in a piece I described as ‘expressive movement’ and some less-inclined teacher friends described as ‘a lot of posing and arm-waving…’ It is always a joy when colleagues heap platitudes on that which you are secretly rather proud of. Sigh. Sarcasm aside, the experience was most enjoyable. I had a great time, and a creative burst now and again is always welcome.

The venue was Luminous Bar, a three-floor club space in central gay town, Bangkok. The company was New City Collective, an assortment of artistes (no sniggering) from our native English-speaking community and led by a Mr. Jesuino. The party was organized by Trasher, a hippyish Thai troupe with whom I’d experienced an earlier night of colourful disco. And the piece itself was a devised work based around the party’s theme of Alice in Wonderland. It was non-speaking, lasted five minutes, and was set to a mash-up of trippy music.

Our group of five actors / ‘expressive movers’ began rehearsing over the few weekday evenings prior to the show. The drama ideas came thick and fast: larger-than-life physicality! Alice as a goth! Puppetry! …Yes, the dreaded ‘P’ word. Along with the dreaded ‘D’ word (dissertation) this did not make for whoops of joy from Teacher whom some of you may recall had to be coerced off a window ledge after choosing this topic for a university paper. My panic subsided however when, after one pained evening spent clutching a craft knife amid a mountain of polystyrene (‘styrofoam’ as I learned Canadians choose to call it), the looming ‘Queen of Hearts’ puppet was assembled and painted without my assistance. Mercifully I was also spared the operating of the thing save for helping to manouvere Mr. Jesuino who found himself groping around in the dark with his head up its skirt and his hands on its control rod.

My role turned out to be one of three hench persons trying to catch Goth Alice. We hunted her with a large white sheet hung from a bamboo rod. By dramatically rolling and unrolling the sheet we trapped her, spun her, and otherwise dazzled our club audience in a feast of fluorescent fancy! But the section of the piece that I found the most ‘real’ was when we hench persons began a choreographed routine with builders hard hats. This section was ostensibly to allow Goth Alice to hide under the Queen of Hearts’ skirt and change her outfit from black to white, but I think it was a remarkable coordination of efforts that channeled the best in YMCA glamour.

Witness the glorious pictures below and roll on the next show. The Drama Type is back... Sweetie darlings!!

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Dig out your spandex for a class routine.

x Teacher

Return of the 'It Boy'

Students,

I welcome you back. I did not retire or run away, much less abandon you, but chose instead to give up blogging for a bit and, given the chance, live a little. I hope you will forgive me. Being permanently based in Bangkok I’ve found an entirely different lifestyle to the previous one. Natalie has affectionately coined this the lifestyle of an ‘It Boy’. There was nothing bad about Lopburi life of course but options were severely limited to teaching, computer work, swimming/sunbathing, and watching TV with friends, grass, and a cool beverage. I was afforded much time to procrastinate with you, but was longing for something more. At the start of the year fellow teachers began to evacuate town and as teaching hours reduced I realized the job I was doing lacked purpose. So I decided to defect to the big city.

Bangkok is a wild and crazy place to call home. What struck me (and Natalie and Tara after they also came here) are the unlimited options before you. It truly is possible to do anything at any time. Making friends is easy and I am glad to say I have been spending time with many more Thai guys and girls. Of course my important relationships are still with old friends (the girls and Brad) and I try to keep our lives in synch as much as possible. It is curious to me how the people in your daily life can really make such a difference to its quality and how you feel as a person. I am endlessly grateful to Randall, Joe, Calvin, and soul brother J.W. for making the move so easy. It was a life changing action for positive reasons but, as with the whole fleeing to Thailand in the first place, it was done with little money, resources, or logical sense. I am happy to continue being near such caring people. They do not even realize that their simple acts of being around gives me so much and I like to channel the options in my free time towards them.

So what of the lifestyle? The work? The play? The boys? The ladyboys?! Upon arriving I knew that I had to take care of myself and hit on the whole healthy mind healthy body thing. I enrolled at a California Wow gym little knowing that this was to be one of the single gayest places visited in my life so far. I mean I’ve been to my share of gay bars and clubs, hell I’ve even been to sex shows, saunas (a naked party!), and an underground dungeon (purely for research purposes), but none of these quite compare to the weight room at Wow. There is rarely a woman to be seen, instead you see row after row of gods with glorious virile bods. There are young guys, old guys, tall guys, small guys, guys who are ripped and guys who are lean, guys who are beefy and guys who are cute. They all flex and lunge and cruise and peruse and when they’re done improving themselves they head out to shower and steam. Wow indeed. I of course follow and, not being known for modesty, occasionally partake in peek-a-boo antics with the horny few. But why so gay? Even before you step in from the street you can hear the thumpa thumpa of the dance music that we all know so well. Along with a personal trainer whom seems determined to hook me up with other clients, I think I may have discovered one of my queer nirvanas…

…The other one being the local club. In addition to aiming for physical perfection and continued mental balance it was also my desire as an explorer to break the enforced celibacy of former dwellings. It is an understatement to say that Lopburi did not offer much in the way of male attention. When it did, our group tended to find said males were… shall we say... not too mentally ‘together’ (further details in previous posts.) In Bangkok it’s pleasingly clear that my blonde-haired blue-eyed look is more in fashion.

I have often looked in the mirror and despaired as it seems to me that constant upkeep and repair are needed to keep the foundations from crumbling. Some lucky buggers have the fortune to roll out of bed each morning and be naturally pristine. This is not the case with me. I unfortunately am naturally lazy and having a cabinet filled with products is really not my thing. However, I can tell you that my modus operandi has always been to walk into aforementioned guy bars with an ‘I look a million pounds’ attitude. Now this should not be confused with arrogance. Plenty of gays put on their labels and strut around affectedly among the poor peasants they see without their own custom Prada. What I mean is if you have confidence that you are you and that ‘you’ is pretty bloody good then you will automatically emanate an attractiveness that can’t be bought; you will be 'It'. You know? I know that attitude is what ensures attention among the crowd and that is no different here than it was in England.

.

It must be said that the number one reason (ok number two reason) I go out is to dance. I love following the music and letting loose. When I dance I do so with abandon. At its best this means that I am totally present in the now, following the beat with a big grin across my face. When I have my friends around me it is even better. If I could highlight an experience from my new life here it would be the dancing. I do it often and a lot and it regularly leads to 'A' number one favourite thing… For the ‘It Boy’ in me it all starts and ends with the dancing.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Bang cock (That one was too easy, right?!)

x Teacher

Post XII - Listen up! Speak up!

Students,

It is my intention in this post to stay well away from any negative thinking or the type of ranting that I can sometimes be guilty of. Actually I am going to make a concerted effort in all areas of my life to see the best side of everything and stay calm and awake to what comes my way. The best way I can think to do this is to continue taking opportunities for stillness and quiet time and in doing so turn off the soundtrack of that voice in my head when it’s not needed. There shall be no judging or blaming or avoidance. In addition I am going to read as much literature as possible on human spirituality and the psychology of our relationships. Often the messages in these books are obvious, but right now I am finding it helpful to draw from them and apply the techniques for myself.

One point that I have become very aware of and that is bothering me is a general state I can see in a lot of people. In fact it’s really a problem but as it’s so ingrained I think you might describe it better as a state. This is not listening. Being a teacher I always saw myself as quite a good listener but recently I began to think have I been guilty of this as well?

Last week I discovered that a very good friend had feelings of more than friendship for me and had done for some time. As I did not and do not feel the same way my first reaction was to feel awful about this and to think back over the months we had spent together. Why had I not picked up on this before? Had I hurt them by not listening to them and realizing how they felt? Had I hurt them by any blunt things I’d said at the time I didn’t realize? These questions bothered me. Until that is they continued to harbour resentment for what I believe they saw as my abandonment of them for a better life. That’s when I realized that I was not entirely guilty, and they should have listened to me as I’d spoken of my feelings on relationships, how committed relationships were not for me right now, how I’d enjoyed casual experiences with guys and longed to do so again. I’d also spoken often of my desire to live somewhere new, have money for once, and teach the way I wanted. In short I had spoken my truth over and over and they had not listened.

…However that is in the past and if it needs to be forgiven it is. After all if he was truly in love with me I can understand that he may have read into my actions rather than my words or else heard only what he wanted to hear. But, what is now becoming unforgivable is that after talking to this person openly in a bid to resolve tensions, they continue to not want to hold conversations with me and so not listen. Specifically I can tell that they refuse to ask any questions about my life possibly for fear that my vast Ego will shower them with details of sex and guys they dislike. It bothers me that though I know they’d like a friendship with me they still judge and feel resentful and don’t trust that I can talk to them in a sensitive way that considers their feelings. If they do not want to listen and talk and the best they can do is send text messages after drinking then it seems to me the friendship is over. That’s harsh because I’d love nothing more than for us to return to the type of closeness and support we had for each other, and I know they are a good person, but I am not a bad person and I certainly won’t be made to feel that I am for the choices that are mine to make. At least I know I tried and I know that he should have tried from the start to speak not from his mind but with his feelings. Nevertheless we all learn in one way or another, and it’s just unfortunate that it is usually through experiencing pain.

It happens that away from drama in Lopburi I’ve attended a few interviews in Bangkok this week and in all but one case I found that the interviewer began by not listening to me. Now this is nowhere near the level of rudeness I experienced at a previous interview I told you about, and it doesn’t cause me to feel I should rant and rave (more), but why bother inviting someone to meet you if you are going to dominate the conversation? In all cases I had to wait patiently before finally getting the chance to put forward some of my ideas and teaching philosophies and in all cases the interview ended with me being offered work.* Why was this? I think because I listened. I looked the interviewer in the eyes and I followed what they were saying. I was present in the moment and when I got to speak I did so with feeling. This was different to what they were blabbing about which in all but one case was a lot of facts and figures I already knew through reading their web page and so really had no further need to be told. I think I surprised the people I was talking to with what I did know, what I thought, and the questions I had for them. If only they’d began by allowing for a 50-50 approach and given me a minute at the start to speak while they listened then maybe they could have spared themselves a lengthy and redundant monologue!!

To me the ability to listen is a great gift to another person. It shows you care and respect who they are. To listen well is to clear your head of schedules, lists, and preconceived judgments of that person, stop what you’re doing, and so be with them. It is insulting to have dinner with someone who is attached to their mobile phone or is simply waiting until you stop speaking to then play their part of nodding in agreement before changing the subject or talking about themselves. EVERYONE knows this and EVERYONE is bothered by it.

“Listen up! Speak up!” That’s what my parents say to me and that’s what I say to them. It means that we hear each other even when far away and on the phone. I do not choose to have people as my friends who are ‘absent’ when I talk to them or who (deep breath)… Cause me to speak very QUICKLY so I get my point across so they hear me before they lose interest and I can see they have drifted off into their headspace and their own problems. More people need to tune in to those around them and remain vigilant with themselves that they are always doing this. In addition we should all listen to what our feelings – our true nature – have to say as opposed to the nagging and destructive problem-maker of our thinking minds or, God forbid, those who tell us what to do because they think they know better… With regard to governing people who in their work really should be listening to those they represent and in doing so look past their own narrow mindedness, I believe they have the most to fear from eventual self-destruction.

* Further information about which job I chose will follow… When I choose.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Listen to the sound of silence.

x Teacher

Social Update - Awakening

Students,

· A time to change. Quite a lot has happened in the last couple of weeks since my hiatus from full-time teaching. I had been so entrenched in the mindset of teaching in Lopburi that I'd come to forget that here I was in a country so diverse, full of character, and with a wealth of new experiences on offer and waiting to be lived. Instead my worldview had narrowed to a series of daily inconveniences that became my life – Why was the humidity so stifling? Why were Thai people watching my every move? What could I do with my time now it was the holidays? And how could I fight the flab I was putting on from a stationery lifestyle spent watching TV and drinking? What helped me through these inconveniences were the friends I had come to count on and the jokes we shared together. But things change. People change and they move on and now it’s time for me to do that. I want to have choice, I want to put myself into situations that are not risk-free and require me to be present in the moment and learn through doing. Most of all I want to teach the way I want because when work is good I love to work.

I came to fully realize the things that I wanted in life with my first holiday from Lopburi in some months. I went to Bangkok and immediately began to feel the kind of life that comes in a city, the movement, energy, possibilities. Without considering it I stopped the endless thinking and analyzing that had become my natural anxious state and I just embraced it. I had time and I had space. There were no appointments for me to dash to and I had a few hours before meeting friends. I decided to wander, to explore, and most importantly I decided that smiling and saying “Yes” to the world was not so difficult after all. I followed my instincts and I heard myself in a very true sense.

My instincts (and my belly) ended up leading me to sit, eat some food and drink some saki in a Japanese restaurant. I sat quietly and watched the awkward social dance between an aging foreigner and a good-natured Thai lady he was romancing… I saw two friends laughing as they fed each other California rolls… I observed a young gay couple so comfortable with each other they forgot to speak as they sat together and ate… Where before that day my mind would probably have supplied me with twinges of loneliness, right there and then I thought ‘I’m 25 and can do anything with my life. Enjoy yourself and enjoy this moment.’ And I did. In fact I walked away feeling positive and less tensed up than I’ve been in a long long while. The weekend opened up before me and has since turned into a fantastic couple of weeks that continues to be full of interesting new people, places, and memories. I put these results down to acceptance and open-mindedness. They have given me a relaxed happiness and optimism. My time to change crept up on me and now seems so obvious, but simply letting things be is how I will operate when I move to live in Bangkok next week.

· Laughing with ladyboys. A most wonderful new set of friendships came to me during my time in Bangkok. It happened quite by happy accident but I’m very grateful. After spending a lazy Sunday with my long-term foreigner mate Lee whereupon we caught up doing some of our favourite things – visiting the cinema, people-watching over ice-cream, and eating each other’s McDonald’s meals, I realized I was far too late to catch the bus back to Lopburi. I decided to ‘live in the moment’ so took off to the Silom gay district and booked into a very swanky hotel. As yet-another election alcohol curfew was ending that night I decided to celebrate with two of my favourite things – Jack Daniels and dancing at DJ Station (helpfully located next door to the hotel.) I had partied there with Thai friends – and without the aid of liquor – perfectly well the night before but as I was flying solo that Sunday I drank down some Dutch courage. I’m glad I did for I ended up meeting Mac, an interesting and very sexy Thai guy who lives between London and Bangkok and works as a fashion stylist. We spent a great couple of days together before I had to leave, but he invited me back to spend more time with his friends and to go dancing again…

When I excitedly returned for our night out (beginning with drinks at a rooftop beach bar) I got to spend a lot more time talking with Mac’s friends Kitty and Rita. They are post-op ladyboys (now technically ladies) and they are quite fabulously unlike other friends I’ve had before. In the following days I spent with them around the city and in their apartment I began to appreciate their self-assurance, kindness and generosity, and ability to laugh at themselves and the world around them.

To come to the realization that you were born as female in a male body and then go against society (even in Thailand) to be truthful to yourself and your family and live as who you are I think is fantastically brave. I highly respect Kitty and Rita and am bowled over by the forcefulness of their personalities. They are both very successful in their fashion careers and this is evidenced as they strut past queuing customers waiting in line for the most expensive clubs and are handed drink vouchers at the bar. But I am most thankful for how they welcomed me into their lives and have made me laugh time and time again (one day I laughed so uncontrollably on the sky train that other passengers looked at me worriedly as if I might be having a seizure.) When I move to Bangkok as planned (and as they helped me to decide I should do) I have arranged to live in the same apartment complex as the ladies. While interesting and sexy guys may come and go (pun intended), it is not often that you feel that some friendships are too important to lose... Very Carrie Bradshaw, right?

· Catty. I have mentioned here before the cat pe(s)t that it came to pass I should live with in Lopburi. I realize that I was somewhat disparaging in my assessment of her. The reason is that I am not a ‘cat person.’ Or I did not think I was. However on my return from Bangkok I found that a new addition to the Pleasuredome household had arrived with Brad’s second pet cat whom had been presumed lost. Having heard some bad things about the animal I cannot say I was enamoured with him from the start but now that seems to have changed and I like this one (named Paul) a whole lot more than the other. Let me explain why. Paul is a carefree soul who enjoys exploring his area and remaining on the move. Paul is very affectionate and always interested in where you are and what you are doing. He is happy to lie for a long time on your bed and keep you company. Paul always speaks his mind. If he follows you into the bathroom and you lock the door he will sit and loudly purr his displeasure at this. Similarly if he wants to come into your room and you close the door behind you he will remain unimpressed. However if you allow Paul inside yet leave the door open so he has the choice to leave, he will happily purr his appreciation of your thoughtfulness and then rub himself against your leg.

All of this has made me put aside my prior judgment of the feline species and instead observe the lessons they can teach. A cat can be blissfully happy doing almost nothing. If it is wronged it will not harbour a grudge for very long and will try to make amends by showing physical affection. It does not appear to be in a cat’s nature to feel sad or bemoan their lot in life, and it’s my theory that if they should show signs of this it is most likely to be caused by the negative energy of the humans around them. I am privileged to have been given some lessons in life by a cat. I just could never be in a committed relationship with one.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Chase your tail.

x Teacher

Post X - Superego and the Superhero

Students,

A wise man once said that it’s sometimes beneficial to look back in order to go forward. That wise man was me. Unlocking the mysteries of Teacher’s mind is not what this blog is about, but skimming the surface and pricking one’s Ego is. As you now know, I used to be a Drama Type. During this eclectic period I came across many versatile techniques to get to the bottom of top-heavy questions. Such troubling questions included How come my body reacts orgasmically to the taste of a pitted olive? and Why must the show go on? The techniques for answering included downing a quart of r*m, poking a lot of b*m, and smoking some p*t for fun. Another proven (by Ms. Tabbayabbadingdoo) method was ‘Emotion Memory.’ Simply put, this involved using one’s Superego to feel your way around your past. For certain Drama Types this resulted in a bit of staring into the middle distance while whispering about a beloved pet hamster that passed on while also forcing a single tear to roll down the cheek. For others, the Superego produced some decidedly juicy gems. It just depended on the question…

As example of the above, I asked Superego a question earlier (leaving the other two headspace-occupiers out for this blog) and was surprised by an answer that may have far-reaching consequences for the future. May. The question: Whom was your first schoolboy crush? Students, in order for you to picture me in those student days I may tell you that I was the dog’s bollocks (English: pretty nifty) at dressing. I also moved with the times when it came to my looks. I moved from shellsuit --> repressed Christian --> hippy --> club boy --> goth (briefly) --> hollow-cheeked ‘artist’ --> Mulder from X-Files --> James Dean ‘rebel’ --> scarf-wearing Drama Type. Now I had thought the answer to this first crush question was very simple: Captain Kirk. But no, ‘Emotion Memory’ has finally revealed more. I would like Superego to explain in his usually insightful way:

Superego: As you know I do not swing both ways on the wills of men, “I will, I will, I will” is usually my answer (especially if Id is involved.) You might say I am as firm as the hand of God. But there are some who cause a stumble in my step. These types often have that special something, and as an impressionable pre-pubescent there was always one superhero whom I thought had it all. Step aside Captain Kirk for I would like to introduce another 60s icon, Captain Scarlet. As you can see from his picture, Scarlet is everything you could wish for in a man. He is a full 20 inches in length, is hard like wood, and blank of stare. His strings can be pulled any way you want, and he will never have a pissed off expression. Because he only has one expression. In addition Scarlet has a faux Cary Grant British monotone and his first name is Paul. He can be manipulated into operating any kind of heavy machinery, and he retains a stiff upper lip in a crisis. There is a reason for this however. The thing separating him from all other superheroes is that he is indestructible… You could turn a machine gun on him or blast him into space but he’d still come back, perfectly sanded-down and head screwed on. What a guy!

I’m not sure if what I wanted was to do Scarlet or be Scarlet. Doing Scarlet would mean I’d first have to sever his ties with Destiny Angel (hair of copper wire and voice of French polish) and his boy toy Captain Blue (all chiseled features though a bit of a plank.) I’d also have to hammer into shape his arch-enemies The Mysterons (think Stephen Hawking meets malevolent flashlight.) But it would all be worth it. Even the risk of splinters. To hold in my (one) hand that moral compass. On the (other) hand, being Scarlet would insure me against all manner of mishaps… I could race into compromising situations with spunk and vigour, most de rigeur in the knowledge of my phoenix-like triumph... To muse on these notions is good for the soul and Superego is happy using ‘then’ to find the answers to how in the ‘now.’ Though this Drama Type does not have a ‘Type’, that same Scarlet Type was found… One beloved ex was noticeably short, had jet black hair, heavy eyelids, could come off as plastic, and always came back no matter what… Ouch!* Be a man, Myster(on) man.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Show me a gay superhero, geek!

* Seems after my catty comments above, the beloved ex in question is having the last laugh and is engaged. Congratulations! ...Gays getting married, whatever next?

x Teacher

Post-It Note - Social Update

Students,

As January ends and the long cold winter months continue (or hot and sticky and sweat-inducing months as my case may be) I feel it apt to briefly detail my comings and goings in/around the year so far with a mini(ish!) post. You will see I am labeling these as ‘Post-It Note’s’. They should hopefully go some way to satisfy your urges for Teacher’s (pillow) talk in-between usual posts and also satisfy (read: ward-off) potential psycho-stalkers. Because we don’t need anymore of them, do we? Seems I already find myself unwittingly placed in the crosshairs whenever I venture into Lopburi with my irresistible foreign companions… but that’s another matter for another blog. What I’m really saying is come here often dear students for you will find regular stimulation on this page.

· Working 9 to 5 (what a way to make a living.) All’s (s)well with my university teaching as the semester rushes to its end. No sooner had Christmas and New Year been and gone than Chinese New Year and the final exams are almost upon us. I teach six English major subjects at the local university in Reading, Writing, Creative Writing, Speaking, Hotel English, and Human Behaviour and Self-Development (read: psychology.) I enjoy the teaching immensely and the students are excellent at English (two girls are even attempting to teach me Thai!) but there is an odd paradigm when compared with my previous work teaching younger kids. Where with that I was doing conversational English to classes of 40+ five times a day and so leaving exhausted after using A LOT of energy for classroom teaching, at the university I have smaller classes but the lessons must be more involved and carefully structured in order to work. I spend A LOT of time in preparation for each two and a half hour class of the six majors. Then I have to mark homework. The teaching is the easy bit. There was an opportunity on the horizon for next semester beginning June that could have taken me back to my former school. If they decide on an agreeable salary for me I may be back there with the kids and old cronies again. If the money is right. Some might call this selling out; I call it working one’s way up to be the top. And that’s always my preferred position. As ever I will keep you posted.
· Settling down. It is almost official: Brad and I are moving in together along with Natalie. We haven’t named the date yet but house-hunting is beginning this Saturday. My (unofficial) husband and I have been living in sin for a little while now and sinners do need to stick together. Sadly in Thailand we cannot leaf through the housing pages to find the perfect shack to shack up in so we must accompany a Thai teacher around the town in search of our manse… We plan to do this while decorated in white khakis/leather trousers, pink berets, and pullovers draped over the shoulders or tied loosely around the waist. To this end we have also been practicing our flouncing and over-enthusiastic hand gesturing. It has already been decided that ‘The Pleasuredome’ (as Natalie calls it) will require a garden/yard/balcony, a guest room/sauna room/back room, a collection of kitsch dog statues, and adequate security (intercom/moat/razor wire) to deter the increasingly ardent psycho-stalkers that, as mentioned earlier, our group tends to inspire (“I love pig.”)
· The case of the ‘Single White Female.’ Unfortunately I find it my duty to make a public service announcement. The bizarrely aggressive behaviour of several Thai males appears to have rubbed off on one of ‘us.’ Said lady has taken to attempts to hoard to herself any gay men (well, let’s face it any men) that she comes into contact with. ‘Single White Female’ will attack with questions on the whereabouts of her prey and demand to know why they did not first think to call and inform her if they were I dunno, venturing to the loo or some such activity… The slightly shall we say ‘unimpressed’ undercurrent of tone to this note is owing to her perpetrating a quite unforgivable transgression on your innocent Teacher: only marginally worse than ‘cock-teasing’ is ‘cock-blocking.’ Allow me to explain. On a recent visit to her workplace Teacher was struck by an attractive Thai gent of similar persuasion to he. In accordance, flirty banter was exchanged before ‘SWF’ unceremoniously (and quite deliberately) lodged her butt and her breasts in the way so that the pretty gay men would be kept safely as her own. It is in the interests of local health and wellbeing that – like a volatile chemical – ‘SWF’ be handled very carefully and preferably held at a safe distance lest she spontaneously combust (or miraculously mutate and develop a more likeable personality.)
· Out and about. In the aforementioned Human Behaviour and Self-Development (read: psychology) class this week our topic was ‘Sexuality.’ I had been delaying coverage of this particular topic for some time and had even brought forward the class on ‘Christianity’ as avoidance (!). However it could be avoided no longer. So as to initiate a less academic and more personal discussion, I thought it best to ‘out’ myself to the ten girls of the class and then they could get answers on any gay-related questions they had ‘from the horse’s mouth’ so to speak. This ‘outing’ was my first in some time and I think was largely successful, though it must be said that exclamations of “A lie wa?” (English: “What the f*ck?”) were heard from most of the girls for some minutes after my announcement. Among the (invited) questions they asked me were “Teacher, because of God are you going to Hell?”, “Have you ever sexed a ladyboy?”, and “What is a gay king and queen?” This latter question, which I suspect was posed to make me squirm (more) I found could only be answered by pointing the index finger of my right hand, forming a ‘hole’ shape with the thumb and forefinger of my left, and stabbing the ‘king’ into the hole of the ‘queen’. Sometimes I think that for a youth that enjoys so much sex, young Thais seem not to know all that much. For example who didn’t know that Ricky Martin was gay??!! Next week I will be accompanying a group including that same class of students on a field trip to a town in Northern Thailand. I can’t seem to pronounce the name of this town to the Thais approval, much less write it, but I would guess it’s spelling to be something like Loei. Thankfully I have been granted a single hotel room separate from the two gay teachers who seemed so oddly eager to bunk with me, and perhaps the trip will allow my students to properly carry-out the homework from their ‘Sexuality’ class: find Teacher a boyfriend. Kidding… (Half kidding.)
· Hello? Is anybody there? Friends are like bats. Sometimes you see them flying at you and can choose whether to continue and deal with them or duck for cover and hide. Sometimes you only notice them when they smack right into you, attach themselves with their sticky wings, and then have to be forcibly extricated from your person. They also have a tendency to only come out at night, hang upside down, and occasionally, turn nasty and try to suck blood from your jugular. In most cases though they are still around but you don’t hear from them for ages until an outbreak seems to occur and you can’t even go to 7/11 without being plagued by them. Students, the point is that one’s faithful friends appear to have gone into hiding somewhere and it is time to raise my voice to a few notables in order that their sensory hearing might pick me up and get back to me:

Steve – Thank you for your e-mail but tell me more about your theatre world in the ‘burgh.
Rosie – I miss your Grace Adler stylings and long for another night in Soho partying with Matt’s sticky dildo.
Zoé – Sorry I was basically asleep when you called. Nevertheless I find the Supernatural date tremendously exciting and demand to be the first person called on your return from LA.
Ria – I hope you are enjoying London. I hear it's pretty Welsh?
Tamsin – I hope you are not having any ‘mental episode’s’ without your teaching partner at your side. And what are you ‘expecting’?

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket... Supoib.

x Teacher

Picture Post - 'Gaylienation.'

Students,

Today your esteemed teacher invented a new word: 'gaylienation.' This word combines several others, namely: gay, lie, alien, nation, and alienation. It is coined to describe one's outsider feelings in the world given the propensity for seeing sex all around yet receiving no 'A' for oneself, thus you would be 'gaylienated.'

Please see below some pictures from the world around me (and in my head) that may better explain this delightful new bit of terminology. You will note among these representations: fruit, an underground passage from former employment when goods were more 'plentiful', the 'big bang' of fireworks, a Thai cave entrance, and an image depicting the desperation felt when balloons (read: hope) floats away...

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Embrace the queer.

x Teacher

Post VI - 10 Things I (Love) about (Me)

Students,

As I recline on the couch today I would like to share some things about myself you may not already know. Perhaps doing so will give valuable insight into the quick and brilliant mind of your beloved teacher. I have somewhat of a penchant for lists, in fact I make them all the time, and so this blog will follow that format. It may also take some time so you might want to grab a snack…

· The greatness of Great Britain or ‘Lie back and think of England’. I am very proud to be British, and more specifically English. While my home nation is actually quite irritating should you have a home there, it is wonderful in many many ways and as a Brit abroad any mention of it inspires warm feelings and the need to wax lyrical for a bit. I suppose what I particularly enjoy and yearn for is the ‘classic’ Britain with all the trappings of ‘proper’ society. I do not mind a bit if dumb Americans think we all live in castles or talk in faux Hugh Grant-esque sloane accents as long as they also notice such joys as tennis at Wimbledon, the ritual of afternoon tea, HRH the Queen, our fine theatre actors, history and beautiful architecture everywhere, clipped vowels, and our cutting sense of humour. I plan to remain an English gentleman to the core because I put to you the world is a better and more civilized place because of us. This means that I will never be heard telling unnecessarily dirty jokes or (shudder) discussing bodily functions, specifically pooh. I remember times after sharing this information where irritating friends have began describing the messiest do-dos they have ever done done. My simple solution in these situations is to share back with some explicit descriptions of gay sex. Be warned!!!!
· Phobia of old persons. This all started a little while ago in Edinburgh with an unfortunate incident on a bus. One crisp dewy morning I was on the way to the theatre to partake in a tone meeting for a play I was directing. I was running late and Id/Ego/Superego were all bellowing in annoyance at people getting in my way. I had only been seated for a few moments when from behind me I heard some unhealthy wheezes then a loud sneeze. What followed was a sensation that still haunts me. A jet of cold sticky mucus hit the back of my neck with sickening force. I had the germs of an old person on my person. Ever since I have taken more note of the aged population and they continue to alarm me… Why do they wear heavy coats in summer?? Why oh why do they use the doctor’s surgery as a place to congregate and socialize?? Although the phobia – as my friend Rosie told me it was – has slightly abated, I still inform employers if any event arises that requires me to interact with someone who is 60+ I am not the right man for the job and this was made painfully clear when, also in Edinburgh, I gave a historical underground tour to a group from the WI (Womens Institute – another quaint British tradition of old biddies meeting weekly to bake and gossip). As we were underground and in the dark, several of the ladies required me to hold their hands (!) and talk to them IN A VERY LOUD VOICE so they could hear. Students I will just say that I can’t quite do justice to the violent thoughts of Id/Ego/Superego that day. Strange that (similarly to cats) even though I put out that I don’t like them, old people do like me… Let me be clear: old people (apart from my delightful grandparents) are unacceptable to me, they are not as dumb as they like to suggest, and they should not be in my personal space. Which leads to…
· Issues of personal space. It is a sad truth that people violate my personal space on a regular basis. These people are the type not to read my face or body gestures and so they must be stopped. The latest example of personal space violation was last night, and actually the incident not only combined this issue but also my aforementioned phobia. Let me explain. I was with some dear Lopburi friends and a not-so-dear old ‘exception’ / ‘penguin’ at a music gig when said old ‘exception’ informed me I was wearing a serious look on my face. Not realizing said look is reserved specifically for social interaction with him, the ‘exception’ then proceeded to enter my ‘intimacy’ zone. This zone is usually only reserved for occasional familial affection, affection from likeable dogs, and affection from agreeable members of the same sex. What happened next was shocking to say the least and I can only suggest was karmic revenge for my laughing at a Thai man who thought it ok to pick up and lift Brad so he could have more space to sit down. Anyway, the ‘exception’ took his chubby little shrunken hand and rubbed it across my face, pulling my features into a smile… My reaction to this is probably best summed up by the following smiley, since I have yet to find words to capture my true feelings: O_o Please now click on the diagram above for a handy guide but note that the distances displayed must be x3 for me. Easy. Now there are no excuses. However please also note for future reference that if you are someone who enjoys physical closeness with casual acquaintances and you try that shit on me then I am likely to use the same loud command I do on Thai dogs: “Back. It. Up.” That I did not use this command on the ‘exception’ or else connect my hand with his face (using a lot more force than he) is surprising. In the end all I was heard to mutter was “But I’m English…”
· Pointed shit pointing at me. As revealed to close associates earlier last night I am not fond of inanimate objects pointing at right angles to me. If you are lucky enough to lie with me on my bed you will note that nothing in the room is angled directly at me. I know this suggests OCD or addiction but it is not quite as bad as my teenage troubles with plug sockets. When I used to enter rooms and see them switched ‘on’ but have no plugs in them believe me it used to send me over the edge. Now my only addictions involve excessive consumption of water, excessive consumption of BBC World News, and (since ending the happy pills) excessive compulsion for ‘A’.
· Doodle dandy. Another bit of compulsion is my fondness for doodling triangles and stars at every opportunity (usually in my office when you’re talking and I’m not listening.) As the committed teacher I am I have referred back to Sigmund, co-founder of ‘doodleology’ and can tell you that my doodles are very masculine (hardly surprising, right?) as men tend to doodle geometric shapes. If you doodle human figures and faces you are a girl. Apparently my triangles suggest a logical, analytical mind (WTF??!!) while stars suggest I was emotionally deprived as a child (haha). So there, now you can never say you don’t learn things from my blog. Oh and Brad if you are reading this, there is only one interpretation of your doodles and that is that you sir are sick and wrong.
· Syllable satisfaction. One final bit of obsessive compulsion I will share (for if we go into issues of my competitiveness, inability to walk along the street with someone else without walking diagonally into them, and crazy driving rituals then I won’t have any readership) is my compulsion to count syllables when listening to others speak. If you are talking to me and you notice my thumb tapping the fingers of my right hand you can be sure I am counting the vocal syllables in your every word. This crazy shit has taken over my life on many important occasions especially back in the dark past when I was a student and really should have been listening in class. My syllable hell pales however when compared to the weird compulsions of many of my favourite students in England…
· Toxic teens. As Brad already knows I am possessed of a cloying soft spot for maladjusted teenage tearaways and would happily adopt any filthy street kid who came my way (as long as they are not a chav.) Now now students don’t worry, I am no paed. What I mean is that where some folk coo over babies and kittens I cannot help but be charmed by snarky back-chatting kids with behavioural issues. As a teacher I find that the students whom others call “a bad egg”, “nuts”, and just plain “satanic” are the ones I identify with and enjoy to work with most. This may be because I still remember my time at school and the cool stuff me and my gang (secretly) did as opposed to the squares that did such stuff as Young Enterprise – yawn! Never mind the bookish swots (American: nerds) bring on the hoodlums!!
· Sweetcorn. Even saying the word sends shivers down my spine. It is simply evil, my arch enemy, and a foodstuff straight from the bowels of hell. What is to like? It smells AWFUL, has a weird taste and consistency, cannot be properly digested, and not even fish want to eat it when you chuck it in the water (not using your bare hands of course) because you’ve run out of maggots as bait. What concerns me most is how it seems to turn up everywhere. As you may know I regard tuna as the food of the gods so finding those heinous yellow things mixed in does not make me happy. In addition when first coming to Thailand I particularly enjoyed coconut milk for dessert. But one lunchtime at school I was heard to let out a horrified “WHAT??!!” upon noticing that also occupying the bowl were (yet again) those heinous yellow things. Now I know some Thai food does not make a lick of sense but I ask you whoever thought that sweetcorn be used for dessert??? As I said earlier sick and wrong.
· Shy bladder. Yes it is what it is. I admit my bladder is shy. I must say also I have no hang-ups about my body or social nudity so there are no problems with standing at urinals for that reason. But I have had countless incidents of social awkwardness while trying to go in company and being unable to produce the goods and the sound of piss hitting the porcelain that they expect. The worst was the pain I felt after attending an Edinburgh Hogmanay street party night. Facilities there were troughs populated by a mass of men standing so close as to be physically intimate – problem! It was an impossibility for my bladder to withstand it and the result was a severe guttural pain felt until I could get home and piss like a Russian racehorse so offloading the several boxes of wine I had downed. The whole business is especially tricky if my fellow man commits the cardinal sin of talking to me while I’m straining to go or (as Thai men do) check out the cock to ascertain size. Nowadays I find it safer to pop to the stalls and have a (hopefully) eyes-free experience in there.
· I LOVE the swinging 60s. I find that a lot of what I especially like in life (and what Id wants) actually comes from the 1960s. This has always been the case. As a young kid I had an obsession with 60s technicolour TV including Thunderbirds, Star Trek, Lost In Space (yes I am a sci-fi gay) and the Hanna Barbera cartoons. In addition the 60s gave us flower power, the moon landing, Carnaby Street fashion, (cool) hippies, and Elvis. It also produced such British notaries as The Beatles, Sean Connery and Roger Moore (James Bond’s), Lulu and Cilla (!), Julie Andrews, Twiggy, and Diana Rigg. I simply adore the colours, fashions, absurdist movement in theatre, and any collectable knick knacks from that era. I happen to slightly resent my parents for growing up at that time and have told them as much. Although I haven’t ever gone so far as to dress totally 60s (though I did do 50s with my James Dean phase) be warned it may still happen. You bet if I had a time machine, you wouldn’t see me for dust.

So there students. How privileged you are. Now you can step back a bit.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Do a little dance. Make a little love. Get down tonight.


X Teacher

Post V –

Id(iot) likes planting Seed

Students,

It has come to my attention that some of you may have observed myself and ‘good time’ girls Lady Tara and Lady Jasmine getting what the Thai locals call “mow” and what you may call pissed. Lady, I’d like to tell you you’re wrong, but that could lead to sticky situations and more than my story coming undone. In short, such lies would necessitate spankies. Our dear friend Sigmund may have been wrong about some issues (I have personally never thought of my mother in that way) but on matters of the greedy id when he is right he is right, right? And so for our blog today I wish to detail the (some say) wicked temptations in this monkey-sex town of Lopburi. One in particular comes to mind and that one is Seed Pub, a late-night establishment that students should - not ever – care to attend (but annoyingly, do.) At this point, a word or 160 from Ego, mistress (or Mr.) of ceremonies:

Ego: As the rational lez in this mind (f*ck) sandwich, may I beseech you to remember the high moral character I embody between the ‘anything goes’ Id(eas) and the yes sir/no sir top -> bottom imbalance of (NOT SO) Superego. Teachers have a duty to be everything to their students while fresh of face, young of spirit, and strict in action… (That’s action not in-action.) What must be kept frontal lobe is the oft-quoted “Work hard, play hard(er.)” Which, it is certain, is what this dili-gent teacher enjoys. “Youth is wasted on the young” is another of those academic sayings that drifts into my mind space from time to (closing) time. The point(s): “Learn it before live it.” “Work before play and play before work.” But separate the two. Always. Cooking in Hell’s fires is the result if you don’t… There that’s all the flogged-to-death analogies from me for now. Don’t have nightmares.

Now. To Seed. I would describe this Lopburian lounge as a place (It’s) Britney (bitch) would call home. As you see from her photo above, students she is an example of an individual of upmost class. Much like Seed. And, like Id, she would no doubt savour the crush of sweaty young bodies, appropriately inappropriate gropage while en route to the water closet, the series of catwalks populated by nudish nymphs bopping to stimulating (read: erotical) beats, and the hot (in the dark) waiters responsible for much of aforementioned gropage…

Saturday P.M./Sunday A.M. with my Ladies was tame compared to previous visits. You see I would never have came across this special devil’s playground were it not for my keeping company with some naughty (but nice) Thai associates. This gaggle of gays spirited me off there once, and I’m proud to say before we had the mainstream (as evidenced by my students) blocking the dance floor (read: dance square.) Back in the golden days of yore (not quite when all was still in black and white but not yesterday anyhow) it offered even more. It was simply Seedier. One could rub shoulders (and other body parts) with pimps and their prostitutes, various gender benders, and very many model-esque young upstarts in very little attire…

Possibly my favourite Seed-y night can be seen amid the photos of my earlier Picture Post, though sadly this does not quite do justice to an experience that saw Natalie mowed with the mo’s, Brad re-applying his clothes, and myself declaring “Anything goes!” Well actually I had a little (or big) bit more to declare but that’s best left as memory for the poor sober ladies of 7/11… At this midway point the gag will be removed from Id’s mouth so he can spew some muck:

Id: I’m a go-er that’s for damn sure. What goes on (with) the head is why I’m in this race. And the Thais they loves that honey, too. You gotta keep awake in this heat, see? Gotta be active not passive else you’ll be sleeping on the job. I am cock-sure about one thing though and that’s the education those students will get if they keep on going. No, I won’t be the provider. Nor will the TV… Unless of course it’s a different kind of TV…

Insightful. But students, what this really comes down to is the ‘A’ grade fun one can have as part of the after-dark crowd. While I cannot guarantee vampirism will provide you a tonsil-tickling social circle, what I will say is that the Thais do know how to party. And I will play Peter Pan on the club scene as long as I can. The Lost Boys would expect nothing less. Given my recent unfortunate (read: ‘A’aaaaaaaaaaa(h)!) ‘A’ge change, my only concession is rule #1: 'not on school nights.’ At this (jumping off a bridge) point the final thought is with the alter-ego, Superego:

Superego: (As you know) I swing both ways. But I dress just one way. To the left. Debauchery is all good and proper, but will somebody please think of the children?? Oh good. Job done then. Be a man, agreed? Go Seed!

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Just say “No!”

Further reading: Today Teacher believed that the id of Student Chen could not possibly be heard from on a Creative Writing exam paper. How wrong. In answer to a question on using verbs to explain what you do at different times of day, under his ‘Evening’ heading he wrote ‘Having sex in bed.’ But it didn’t end there… In answer to a question on using 3 adjectives to describe Beyoncé, Chen chose ‘beautiful’, ‘sexy’, and ‘fucking hot.’ I of course expect him to achieve his usual high marks.

x Teacher