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

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

Bachelor Pad

Students,

Although you may be only vaguely familiar with your teacher’s domestic life, I am delighted to report of my first permanent dwelling in Bangkok. After moving from The Pleasuredome, rooming with friends, and then a significant other (as previously blogged), I am now renting a spacious bachelor pad in a veritable gay community. My new one-bedroom apartment is within walking distance from the nightlife you know I am so fond of, and is also surrounded by a collection of happy homo-owners (sorry.)

It turns out that the ill-advised relationship of a few weeks prior allowed just enough time for a rental opportunity to come up in the building I previously stayed. Making an agreement with my friends and lodgers now means they’re my landlords, and we’ve embarked on doing up the pad with eclectic yet tasteful flair. So far I have a fully functional kitchen sporting a gas stove should I wish to (or have time to) cook. I also have a large fridge/freezer should I wish to chill anything other than water, wine, vodka, and ice (perfect dinner for one.)

In the bathroom I have a shower that fits two (already tested) and in the bedroom I have an Asian-style floor bed to accommodate myself and any Asian-styled guests (already tested.) The bedroom itself has some very bold apple-green walls and raspberry coloured decorative items. Of course the bed is black. From the bedroom one (or two) can access an outside balcony with enough floor space and privacy come any eventuality (already tested.) Two very important bedroom features are a Narnia-effect built-in closet (insert own joke here) and a stylish CD player for all those pre-club warm-ups… and post-club warm-ups…

The big decision now is whatever to do with the remainder of my main room. The kitchen and dining areas occupy some of its dimensions, but what is left offers tantalizing opportunities for private pleasures. Who could resist a cushioned dancefloor? Play room with accessories to bind and unwind? Ultimately this is an issue upon which I turn to you, devoted delinquent designers…

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Design for thine.

x Teacher

Sleeping on the job

Students,

You must forgive me today if I speak a little slower than usual, forget your name, or forget my own. I am sleepy. Actually not just sleepy, but in the midst of a constant battle with fatigue. I thought after a month of juggling daytime and evening work my body clock would have synched up and brought out the working professional in me. At least it could have given me something of a buzz in the mornings. Alas I was wrong. Instead I must now rely on fruit, coffee, and lightly slapping myself around the face just to get the brain ticking. But the worst thing is when I do actually make it back through my door at night I suddenly become wide awake and cannot for the life of me switch off and power down. I try to read but the words swim before my eyes. On occasion I head out into the night seeking solace in vodka and a spin with the regulars on the dance floor. But what if I were to meet a fellow insomniac? Right now the best he could hope for is some half-asleep gropage or, as with Saturday night, to wake up beside me on my kitchen floor, the bed being too far when finally my body gives up and zzzzzz.

Happily it seems employers aren’t noticing the bags under my eyes, the stifled yawning, or my staring off into space in a comatose manner. My day job is at a Christian girl’s boarding school. The English-speaking staff are beyond lovely, they chat and socialize, and can see I am trying. But I should be achieving more at this point and student marking is threatening to overwhelm my tired mind. Nevertheless classes are largely stress-free and the students are entertaining. They and I have fun together and the arctic temperature air conditioning keeps me chilly and alert.

On weekday evenings I rush across the city to the Grand Palace where my adult conversation classes require what amounts to a song and dance routine each time. For my new-age employers at the language school text books are out and FUN! FUN! FUN! is the idea. Do zombies feel fun? I can tell you from experience that no, they do not. My students genially play along but they, like me, are doubtless wishing they could be home with their slippers and a cup of tea…

So this is what I’ve turned into. A slave to work, a burned-out shell of my former self. And students, it’s you who do this to me. You whom I aim to please, titillate, and inform. You for whom I beat myself every day! Why did I choose this exhausting profession? Some days I close my eyes and search my ‘happy place’ for answers.

No comments? No questions? Good. Class you may be excused.

Homework: Go and get sick / burn down the school / cause a city-wide disaster that means everyone must stay in bed in the morning.

x Teacher

Love and Lunacy

Students,

I am a man who likes to try new things. Sometimes there are things that I like very much and wonder why I lived without them (banana bread, pilates, and jewellery for intimate places fall into this category.) And then there are those things that I try but that fail to grab me (liquorice, going to bed early, and doing drag fall into this category.) But I think it is good to push oneself and not always follow conventional / safe logic. Such was the case when I recently decided to halt my embargo on boyfriends and give it a try with a handsome 32 year old Thai gentleman and fellow clubgoer. I will point out right now that the relationship such as it was is now over, but it was an interesting experiment while it lasted. It certainly roused some previously forgotten sensations in me. Love? Who knows? Here goes with the analysis…

Let's say his name is Na. We had some fun at his place one holiday weekend and I enjoyed his confident manliness and the assertiveness with which he made the moves. As previously blogged I think there is nothing more attractive than the right kind of self-confidence, and I had seen him and been noticing that for some weeks prior to our meeting. His look is certainly striking and this makes him a successful ‘It Boy’ and business owner (he is a hairdresser.) What I had categorized as a one-time encounter then turned into more when, after not replying to his messages during the week, I saw him again on Saturday night. He looked at me in an intense way that immediately shook me. It was not normal, and as the music swelled in my ears I was drawn to his arms, body, lips. I think sometimes a mood or feeling just grips you. With me it is usually impatience, exuberance at work, or enjoyment of my friends. This time the feeling for Na was complete and consuming and it stayed there as we spent the next 24 hours together.

I’m not sure if it was him or me that first suggested dating, but it was definitely him that suggested I should move into his house. This he reasoned would ensure us being around each other to see if things worked as a relationship. In hindsight it was practically viable, but it meant the exciting dating part was lost. Had we lived apart and made time for dinners, seeing a film, or going for a walk in the park, then maybe we could have kept a lightness to the experience. As it was, co-habitation made things too domesticated, too serious, too quick.

Beginning a relationship is difficult for anyone at anytime. There had been a lot of time since my last ‘proper’ relationship and even then I remember feelings were less than strong. In the intervening year+ I focused on myself, getting better after illness, and getting better as a teacher. For the first time in years I was not one half of a pair and it suited me. I never felt alone or needy and I was not particularly resentful or bitter about those who had found ‘the one’. I had friends and opportunities for flings along the way. Then I was struck by Na, this great kind handsome sexy successful guy who invited me into his life. But, as it turned out, was reluctant to invite me into his heart.

Meanwhile my heart was wide open. And this is where the ‘lunacy’ of the title comes in. My new relationship unfortunately coincided with a set of problems concerning finances and a visa. It was necessary for me to borrow cash and take a 14 hour train journey to neighbouring Laos, stress about leaving/returning to Thailand, wait 4 hours for a return train in a nowheresville, then sit for 14 hours back to Bangkok. With little else to think of and little power on my I-Pod I started to obsess. Like I dunno… Ally McBeal. Yeah. Yeesh. Sadly all of this thinking manifested itself in an epic outburst the following Friday night. This is when I knew the relationship and I were not a good mix and, through no fault of his own, Na was not ready to commit with his emotions. In other words he was understating things and I was OVERstating dramatically. It is odd when your irrational Id explodes to the surface even as your rational Ego tries desperately to kick logic into the equation and stop the words spilling out. The upshot was he clearly (and at the time rightly) thought I was somewhat psychotic… I’m not sure what other Thais in the club audience felt as outbursts like that are often part of dating here…

The remaining time of what came to be a three-week relationship was spent avoiding everything but great sex which, of course, does not have to be an emotional act. At least between gay men. (My exasperated straight male colleagues and the new Sex and the City film inform me that girls are a different story.) Anyway it all came to an end quite peaceably and at my hand when I sat him down and explained why I didn’t thinking it was working for me or him. By a stroke of luck an apartment became vacant in the same building as my friends and this thankfully ensured homelessness was not a (big) issue.

As I moved out of his house a few days later we found upon reflection that we felt basically the same and had done all along. For various good reasons relationships had been, and should have continued to be, off the cards for us. But we tried and it wasn’t something I’d call a failure or a negative experience. We will not date now, but with emotions out of the way we may get on with what we are great at. And this could be something we share together because we still like each other a lot. I hope I’m not jaded, and the possibility of being with someone long-term might be a possibility in the future. I think a problem is that the relationship I have with myself is of paramount importance and still needs more time to grow. I enjoy my life as it is – so does Na with his life – and I feel the confidence and willingness to try new things is leading me in interesting personal directions. From 17 I found myself in long-term committed relationships and though these were wonderful, fulfilling times, I now feel I missed out on making it on my own and playing the field. I was also a lot shyer then and very much immersed in the mindset of social do’s and don’ts for relationships. It wasn’t necessarily oppressive, but had that kind of life situation continued it would have closed me off from the freedom and joy I feel living now.

So students, what did I learn? I learned that I am capable of feeling deeply and caring for another guy (I wasn’t sure.) I learned that dating a Thai guy means also dating his friends. I learned that I am somewhat selfish. I like my own space and schedule, and feel weird being publicly known as part of an ‘It’ couple. I need to learn how to be domesticated too. But most of all I learned that I still have a lot to learn. And that’s not a bad thing. After all I do have youth and looks on my side…

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: If at first you don’t succeed, try and try again.

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 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 0 - The Making of a Blog

Students,

Welcome to my xclassx blog. The first thing to say is it is damn hard to do a blog. I am one of those types to start these things then get bored at the sound of my own angst and give up. I’m sure any readers would do the same if they had to decipher the back-and-forth contradictions of my mind. Not only am I not straight, I am not straight-forward. So that is why until now I have not done much cyber-sharing. But here I am in Thailand, far from my native friends, and still with plenty to say for myself and situations (usually involving our gang of miscreant Lopburians and naughty monkeys) to describe.

As mentioned, I don’t want to give you update monologues about me and my life and ‘where I’m at’ for we already have such shows as Dawson’s Creek and such warblers as Celine Dion (sorry, I know I should have put a warning before THAT mention) to give us that brand of introversion should we need it. And if you DO need that – or use your free time to pursue enjoyment (shudder) of either of the above – may I recommend medication. Or a gun. But I digress. What I’m trying to say is there will be no anal probing in this blog (though I’m sure even before the end of this post my favourite ‘A’ word after ‘arse’ will be used once more.)

But you see, why would I use this opportunity to attempt to unlock the mysteries of my inner and outer worlds when there are MANY more important things to discuss e.g.:

WHO will I bump naughties with next?
WHAT in the name of holy Hell is happening with Britney?
WHERE on (God’s) earth are those pesky missionaries gonna pop up next?

WHEN will I ever taste decent lasagne again?
WHY does it (never) rain on me? (was it because I lied when I was 17?)
And…
HOW exactly do Thai males AND females think they can look good with a
m-u-l-l-e-t??!

After a recent ‘iffy’ (read: shit) class I gave to my university students on Sigmund Freud (!) I have decided that the sex-obsessed, and therefore relatable, old fool may have been onto something. So that we can get to the bottom of all my questions (so to speak) from now on some of each blog post will be divided into comments from each part of my mind: the id, the ego, and the superego. To top it all off (so to speak) I will also very occasionally probe the MINDS of others to see what makes them tick…

Firstly though, so you know what I am on about we need a quick bit of cod psychology. Here comes the science bit…

Id = Our basic “I want!” instincts (sex, food, sex, drink, sex, toilet, sex, bitch, sex.)
Ego = Our rational mind. Seeks answers to those elusive questions and tries to help the Ego get what it wants.
Superego = Our decider of right and wrong. The conscience. Or the devil / angel thing. (Some of us) feel guilt here (some of us.)

So you will hear from my two blokes of the head and one questioning lady…
…What? I have a feminine side you know even though to look at I am All-ManTM. Matter of fact I think the lady may be a bit… dyke-y… but we’re all lovers not haters, right?

There. That was a great lesson, wasn’t it? And not even a lick of inappropriate innuendo. Please come back next time for the first official blog post. No homework this blog.

x Teacher