Post XI - Leap of Faith

Students,

Did you know that February 29th represents a ‘Leap day?’ Leap Years were added to the modern calendar to keep it in alignment with the earth’s revolutions around the sun. 2008 has 366 days which means that today is one extra day given back... Sucks for people who were born on a ‘Leap day’ as their birthday only rolls around once in a while. But what it means for the rest of us is that we are gifted a day. Makes me think something special is needed.

So far today I have not achieved very much. I was up late last night marking exam papers and this distracted me so much that for the first time since I entered The Pleasuredome a couple of weeks ago I was left to face the prospect of sleeping on THAT BED without the aid of alcoholic intoxication. The only remedy I could find to knock myself out (and also knock one out in the process) was to reach for some Sangsom and relive the raunch of the Mexican film Y tu mamá también with the delightful Gael García Bernal. When I awoke (and after clicking my spine back into place) I left and have made it so far as blogging with you. Plan was to head to Bangkok today for some r‘n’r but at some point I MUST sit down and complete my student grades. Teaching is thrilling sometimes, y’know? Thanks kids.

So now that I will be off to BKK tomorrow that leaves me in Lopburi with time on my hands and superstition on my mind. What can be done here that hasn’t be done before? Instead of making a major commitment to doing something, I am going to make a minor commitment to doing pretty much nothing. Pretty much. Rather than look at the big picture I will go small and have faith that I can fill my day with random notions requiring little effort and that make even littler sense…

…One thing I am often told is that I should smile more. Of course I live in ‘the land of smiles’ but actually smiling is quite a tricky thing to maintain when there isn’t necessarily anything to smile about. Not smiling here is frowned upon, yet lately my daily duties have been filled with tedious end-of-semester paperwork so I have not been as inclined to giggle along with the gays in my office. That will change this ‘Leap day.’ I will commit to walking home with a grin plastered across my face. I’m sure this will interest passers-by and the sellers on their food carts. Thus I will find out if smiling really does make a difference.

Another matter raising my attention lately is that I am unable to say “No.” That’s right students, as you know I am a giver but sometimes I find myself in compromising positions (read: sticky situations) because I cannot bring myself to refuse. I tell you “Yes! Yes! Yes!” is sometimes not the best answer. It can lead to terrible incidents such as detainment on long bus journeys, being forced into singing If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands to a packed auditorium of Thai students, or even (more concerningly) being videoed grinding one’s hips with a female student after being coerced into a dance routine… Yeech! Memories of Loei be gone. (BTW it is a mystery why these videos of farang never seem to turn-up even after repeated questioning… There is still one somewhere showing me in drag and on-stage shaking it as Beyoncé at a school English camp.) ANYWAY today I intend to remain non-committal, but given the ‘Leap’ I will change my response to any questions that come my way. “Maybe (baby)” is to be the final answer.

And now to Id / Ego / Superego for suggestions on how Teacher’s (precious) time woulda coulda shoulda be occupied…

Id: Honey it’s so sunny let’s do somethin’ funny. Stare up at the sun for a mo, blink wildly for a mo, and then close eyes tight to witness a variety of (exciting) blobs, stars, and flashes. ‘Leap’ time of approximately 2 minutes can then be spent making out shapes and wondering is mo’s Subconscious speaking?? Or is it just that lezzie Ego again….

Ego: As a lady of certain persuasion I can do irrational on occasion. It’s all about the mind, and the powers of the Psychosis could do with a work-out. My ‘Leap’ suggestion is to use that secret power of yours. Let’s focus on someone near – say the cute Thai guy giving his right hand a work-out over video games – and silently mind probe him into doing your bidding. Start small, maybe willing him to bend over… Where there’s a will there’s a way, right? Then it can be taken further with another kind of probing to satisfy Id. The law of averages dictates that sooner or later a mind command will come true (even if it is only that said guy turns to see a farang staring intensely and with cross-eyes) so keep faith and stay with the cause! ‘Leap’ time of approximately 5 minutes on offer here.

Superego: As you know I swing both ways so I offer a different perspective that requires a second helper. Think about it: you are a tall guy and this gives rise to much opportunity. Some are less fortunate. Be a giver this ‘Leap day.’ How about returning to The Pleasuredome, locating the cat pe(s)t and allowing It to see things from your point of view. Instead of Its usual 2' high sight, pick It up and give It a look at the world from your angle. Then reverse and take a look down there with It. Be a man, follow the pussy. ‘Leap’ time of approx. 10 minutes means I’m the winner!

So students, I have offered a whole heap of Leap possibilities for myself. How will you pleasure yourself today?

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Sleep for ‘Leap.’

x Teacher

Picture Post - 'Bloomin' lovely.'

Students,

I bring you another exciting Picture Post, this one of a delightfully gay Sunday. Lady T and I accompanied some Thai friends into the local wilderness and the Lopburi sunflower fields. We communed with nature for a while and even found a giant sunflower to stick our heads through! We then took off and spent the evening at a Japanese fair. As you can see a super day was had by all.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Lie down in your (flower) bed.

x Teacher

Picture Post - 'Teacher rocks the party!'

"Zommmmmmbbbbbbiiiiieeee!!!!!"

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 IX - I Have Never

Students,

I find myself at the semi-regular (for me) junction in life where one wonders what to do next. There are of course many many opportunities for a semi-employable chap such as myself, but like Julia Roberts discovered in My Best Friend’s Wedding, reaching the 25+ wilderness of life requires one to take action and take back what you want. Unlike Julia Roberts (and her crazy nest of hair) I prefer to take action in matters of career not heart, and I find this leaves me devoid of psychotic bitch tendencies and/or the likelihood of making Cameron Diaz cry. Besides, why would anyone stalk that pouty ex of hers (and fiancé of Cameron) when she already has Rupert Everett on speed dial??? Priorities Julia. But I digress. In pondering what path to travel next I really have two options: stay in Lopburi and in the Pleasuredome (see previous post) or take my chances – and try again for another job – in Bangkok (see previous post.) I’m not sure at this point if I quite have the strength to return to the city and face more rudeness, so instead of being pro-active I will spend some time talking out of my navel with you dear students.

As mentioned I regrettably have reached the quarter century mark and this may (or may not) have launched me into my current series of existential episodes. One wonders what dreams are meant to be followed in the short time left…How one’s words and deeds can be assured of living on as time approaches one’s eventual extinction (especially as in my case no little junior’s will be left behind…) It seems apt then to save for posterity what has gone before. So I would like to introduce a psychoanalytical technique known colloquially as ‘I Have Never.’ Simply put all that is required is that the speaker (in this case Teacher) detail past deeds they have survived and then the captive audience (in this case Students) down a short of liquor if they have ever done the deed. At this point I authorize you to pull out your hip flask and pull out your moves. Work that drinking arm and exercise that trick jaw.

20 ‘I Have Never’s (in no particular order):

♂ Dated a millionaire. ♂ Trashed a hotel room like a rock star. Then bolted. ♂ Got the Romantic notion to run away from home on the back of a horse. ♂ Been stalked. ♂ Been a stalker. ♂ Done the kamikaze slide at a water park. ♂ Got a tattoo. ♂ Cooked and eaten haggis. ♂ Worked as PA to magician Paul Daniels (the glamour!) ♂ Been very naked in a very public place. ♂ Been robbed by a monkey. ♂ Drunkenly informed a (former) friend’s concerned mother that I had ‘A’ in her house. ♂ Been told off by police for ‘lewd’ behaviour. ♂ Ran for my city and swam for my county. ♂ Walked (almost) every trail and fell in the English Lake District. ♂ Survived a high(ish)-speed car crash (not my fault, either.) ♂ Caused a foreign tourist in my care to vomit out of terror. ♂ Broken someone’s heart x2. ♂ Stripped on-stage. ♂ Been so starved of money I starved myself and ate nothing but jam and pickles for two days.

Now all I have to do is pass some more time by thinking of things to do before I die... Students, I think I should confiscate that alcohol. It’s for the best.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Sober up.

x Teacher

Post-It Note - Some words to accompany the job that you can stick up your arse

Students,

I would never endorse the action known as ‘selling out.’ If I wanted to do a job just for the money I can think of some much nobler pursuits to put my body and mind to work on than teaching. But lately the lure of more money has joined the lure of moving on, traveling somewhere new, and/or living in a more metropolitan locale as debating points of Id / Ego / Superego. Of course in most ways and for most of the time I am perfectly happy and settled where I am. I intend to change my job for next semester as the university has proven rather demanding of my time and reserves of patience, especially after what I would conservatively call a ‘challenging’ trip to Loei the other week (even though I did get to do some theatre directing amid my duller duties.) I could remain here in Lopburi and build on what I’ve got. Or I could take a chance and explore somewhere new. These are the types of questions that vex Teacher daily when without more intimate ways to pass the time, and in a bid to avoid the heat stroke. Life is tough y’all...

ANYWAY I applied for several jobs last week before ruling out most of them as impractical. But one job based in Bangkok made me begin to wonder. The salary was good, it sounded central so the sky train could be a travel possibility, it was a language school so I could teach the same students regularly, and the weekday hours began from mid-afternoon so the famed Bangkok nightlife could be appreciated (only on occasion of course.) And living in the city might be a break from the limitations found living in the (almost) countryside. Could this all be too good to be true? The short answer is yes. Before knowing this however I accepted the invitation to visit for interview…

At this point I must tell you that though in this blog I occasionally seem… narked (English: as irritating as celibacy) in polite company I am usually a joy and a delight. Never do I moan or complain; always I choose perfect politeness, diction, and chivalry to camouflage any fleeting annoyances. Well. Almost always. But the two things that threaten to send this picture of calm into meltdown are impoliteness and others being disrespectful. It is not because I consider myself better or more worthy of respect than others, but I seriously think it is a basic human right of all to enjoy being spoken to with thought and a following of proper social codes. When this (infrequently) does not happen for me (particularly when I am obeying the rules myself) is when I have to make sure that person is ‘told.’

I’m sad to say that this whole problem arose with the interviewer I had the displeasure of meeting in Bangkok – sorry Bangna – an area of the city that could at best be described as an industrial park miles from anywhere and at worst as a littered concrete jungle. That I had been required to wake up and travel at some ungodly time (with a hangover) possibly played into my perception of events, but really there was no excuse for the rudeness I encountered during questioning for a job I quickly discovered I had no interest in. Students you might see the following e-mail that I sent post-interview as a little ‘sharp’ and believe me that is the intention. Take this either as a warning or as a call to arms on the war against w*nkers who think they know better. They never do.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Pick up your poison pen and get scribbling.

x Teacher

Garry,

Following my interview today I would like to withdraw from your consideration for a teaching post with English For All. I got the impression that I am not the type of teacher you are looking for anyway, but I must say I found your approach both presumptuous and rude. I would expect the type of pointed closed questioning you used in an interview for a job in recruitment or some other high-powered role, but for what I could see as a modest language school I just found it totally unnecessary.

Maybe being in the 'land of smiles' has made me forget that employers can be so unreasonable. I don't mean to be insulting but you no doubt saw how I very quickly lost all interest in putting myself across favourably or asking any questions. Believe me, I am a committed teacher - I consider teaching as my career and am keen to develop my skills. But I was a bit affronted when you insinuated that I had little experience - I would not call training in two English comprehensives, being the first foreigner to teach staff and students in a rural Thai middle school, or lecturing to EFL students in majors covering reading and writing structures, communicative English, and psychology as little experience. That is not to mention my commitment to evening classes in the local language school, leading workshops for tourist police, and managing extra-curricular drama classes.

I very much enjoy teaching work and am comfortable in what I do. I like to work hard and am rigorous in my planning and preparation. Unfortunately it seemed to me you were more concerned about picking holes in my experience than asking me questions about my teaching philosophy or classroom manner. I had a file of resources, lesson plans, and student work I would have been happy to show you if you had. I hope that you find the right candidate for the role, but I would seriously suggest you reconsider your managerial style.

P.

Social Update - The Pleasuredome

Students,

It is with deep joy that I am to inform you of my new home. The sprawling manse now occupied by Brad, Natalie, and myself was previously occupied by Christians (shudder) but enough sinful acts have no doubt been performed within its walls since we took up residence a couple of weeks ago that it can now be officially confirmed as ours.

How to describe our Pleasuredome? As you enter it has a pleasant open space with chairs and a table that resemble those usually found in a waiting area. Until we can furnish this area with a sofa or the owner supplies us with a TV we will doubtless continue to sit here with the nagging feeling that something akin to a gastro check-up is awaiting us. However after expressing her desires for good mood lighting (a desire born from a childhood bedroom in eighteen tickety-boo fashioned with operating theatre strip lighting), Natalie has installed a string of illuminated balls that makes things altogether more bearable. For my part I have brought the ‘OCD lamp’ (it is covered in wicker triangles) gifted to me on my birthday by the gay teachers club. Both items enhance the area as does the raised gold cardboard impression of His Majesty on our patriotic calendar. We have a kitchen area which has already seen the effects of a bubbling pot of bolognese sauce. It also has a tiled work surface which our resident cat pe(s)t is partial to.

In our Pleasuredome we each have a bedroom all our own and a bed we each wish was not our own. Seriously, if I ever meet the sadist that made what could loosely be described as a bed and more accurately as a device designed to inflict muscular pain then they had better beware. I’d happily strap their sorry back to it and have myself some fun with them (and the painful part would be felt along their un-exposed spinal chord.) On the bright side the house enjoys plenty of sunlight and (occasionally) the odd cooling breeze. Brad has taken to scheduling waking-up so he is in synch with our neighbour taking a shower. As houses are so close together he tells me that many perving opportunities are afforded us, and I reply telling him that it is just a pity there are no hotties in this community worth having stake outs by the window for. Oh, and stop being a perv.

Along with the aforementioned cat pe(s)t there are a couple of other species which are a matter of concern and, fittingly, they only come out at night... Unfortunately the canines around us react to the slightest pin drop and when one of them begins to howl we get a chorus. At first seismic activity was suspected as the cause and we were momentarily worried, but now this has been ruled out and the temptation is to embark on some midnight poisoning. An altogether more sinister problem is that of the bat population. Far be it from me to be nervous of something smaller than I (in fact problems usually only occur when attempting to facilitate something bigger than I), but I do not enjoy these winged beasts f*cking with my head as they dive-bomb for it. Something must be done!

The last thing I will say about our Pleasuredome is that it is a great pleasure to be roomies with such Delightful Types. The relaxation factor is always very high and makes one yearn for the simple life devoid of work or material concerns. Natalie and I are primarily concerned with obtaining oral pleasure (putting things in our mouths as much as possible) while Brad and I have taken to late-night viewing of some choice material on the DVD player. Divine friendships!!!

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Shack-up student-style.

x Teacher

Post-It Note - My Bloody Valentines

Students,

It is a fact that I am not a fan of St. Valentines Day. I think it is utterly unnatural that for one day out of 365 much of the population believes it acceptable to forget all past crimes of the heart in exchange for a fluffy red teddy bear or some obscenely saccharine love note. Students, believe me when I tell you it actually is all just a ploy by the marketing industry to extort cash from every poor sap who wants to follow the crowd and prove to themselves and others that they are not unlucky in matters of the heart. Sounds far-fetched? Well unfortunately it's true.

I may also tell you that a quite nasty and infamous incident occured on February 14th 1929 and this is quite conveniently forgotten amid all the hearts and flowers. It involved the Capone gang of Chicago. In an effort to 'off' seven of his rivals in the North Side gang, Al arranged for them to rendezvous at a local garage. They were lured by way of the promise of some bootleg whisky, and upon entering were lined up by gang members dressed as police officers. Thompson sub-machine guns were then produced and quite a mess was apparently left following the slaughter of the North Side gang whom were all dressed in their best suits. In actuality there were found to be seventy machine gun bullets and two shell casings left from shotgun blasts. You may also remember how the incident caused Joe and Jerry to head off on the run, don some (rather convincing) drag and fall for the charms of 'Sugar Kane' Kowalczyk / Marilyn Monroe. My point is for some February 14th can sometimes not be all that peachy.

ANYWAY I can only assume that this year my postal delivery has been delayed en route to Thailand, but in its absence I was treated to a card passed on from one of friend Brad's students. I can tell you that this card neatly sums up two things: firstly this is the type of card I'd prefer to receive as opposed to poetry or cute fluffy things, and secondly as an insight into the Thai mentality when it comes to romance this is particularly accurate. Above is the front cover and below the inside. Thank you to Tharatorn Nimitmuenwai of 5/19...

...I have also added a Thai song that I always enjoy and think is probably saying something romantic. I asked my students for the meaning behind the song but they said it was difficult to explain - this may mean they do not want to explain to me. Nevertheless I am certain that in their song Mai Roo Jak Chun Mai Roo Tak Tur the vocalists Da and Pop are in love for all of the right reasons. And if not, at least they have sweet voices to express their pain.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Eat some heart for dinner.

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

Story Post - Second Part 'The Stranger and I'

His touch made me smile knowingly in spite of myself; he saw in me what I saw in him. It would only be a matter of time – and a ride in the lift – before both hands could be everywhere. I breathed out, preparing whatever nonchalant words were going to be the first he’d hear. But…wait. Before I’d finished exhaling I felt something else. An odd shiver was surging through my body. I stared forward into space knowing that something was very wrong. I’d felt this hand before, the same tightening grip and cold palm. I stood up and turned, now knowing what was to come.

Tuk stood before me with an expression that was halfway between friendly and hateful. We had known each other no longer than a month and he still baffled me with his persistence and forthrightness. Why was he here ruining what may have been such a perfect moment? Who was I kidding. As the stranger joined the counter girls to look on with interest, the dream of meeting someone gorgeous and sane had clearly been too much to hope for. Tuk continued to regard me and I knew I’d better speak. “What are you doing?” I ventured quietly. “Go to room.” The statement was not only loud but also clear. All present knew that this boyishly good-looking Thai guy wanted me all to himself. He was wearing the same clothes I’d first seen him in at a bar some time ago. The oversized t-shirt, hanging jeans, and torn trainers had proved to suit him much better off than on for under them was the perfect slim body of a twenty-something Asian. This, along with his preference to forego speaking broken English and let his actions speak for him had once been such a turn-on. Now, his declarations of love and inability to understand that a relationship was out of the question had made him decidedly creepy. He motioned his head that we should go. He meant business.

I couldn’t help but look back at what I’d stupidly thought was a possibility. There was so much more I wanted to know about the stranger, so comfortable in his own skin as he now leant back on the counter. I met his eyes this time feeling no embarrassment; as I’d been so obviously ‘outed’ it hardly mattered. He smiled amusedly to himself then gave a quick wink before he disappeared from view as we rounded the corner and stepped out into the evening heat. Was that meant as the rebuke of a straight man against the girlish melodrama of a couple of ‘fairies’? Was that a knowing wink? I didn’t have anymore time to wonder as Tuk made another grab for my shoulder. This time I angrily shrugged him off, knowing that right now I had to be assertive and definitively end things. I walked him around into a corner of a small garden where I knew we’d be out of sight and away from curious ears.

I wanted to make this as easy as possible. After a minute of stumbling through the little Thai words I knew, and a lot of gesturing to assure him things were over, I believed all was sorted. I was wrong. Tuk looked at first contemplative and then lowered his head as I made to finish speaking. I took a step back ready to leave him and as I did several things seemed to happen at once. Firstly Tuk lunged forward and threw his weight against me. Unprepared, I fell hard onto the grass behind me. In a second he was standing above me and I felt a sharp kick hit my lower back. There was another to my ribs. Another to my elbow. I saw his face contort with rage though he remained quite silent. Where were the hotel security men? When would he stop so I could stand up and defend myself? I didn’t need to answer either question. As quickly as it had started, the beating was over. Tuk had gone. From my position on the ground I turned painfully to see him dash away in the direction of his motorbike. What happened? My body jolted as I felt another hand on my shoulder. My heart racing I squinted to look up towards the moonlight. A newly familiar face was looking down at me, concern showing in the brown eyes that peered through hanging curls of hair.

I hated being so out of control and lying vulnerably in the grass was hardly how I wanted this most masculine of men to see me. I moved to break free of his grasp, pull myself up, and thank him. But instead of releasing his hold or helping, the stranger moved his bulk further over me until I realized his body was coming to rest on top of mine. Did he think I was seriously hurt and he needed to support my back as he rescued me? Was he going to teach the queer a lesson? Somehow I knew it wasn’t either. I lay still unresisting. As the warmth of his skin tingled against my bruises and he rested his weight slowly down on me I could feel him hard, his cock aroused against mine. I struggled to catch my breath and I felt beads of sweat over every part of me. All I could see was him. My vision was filled with that rugged face. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He looked deep into my eyes.

Hidden in the unlit patch of grass to the side of the window where staff had no doubt gathered to look into the night and enjoy the drama with the crazy foreigners, we held each other tight. Our mind’s were as one. Our hands and tongues began to wander…


THE END (MAYBE*)

* 'Maybe' is owing to sad fact that it has been so long since the writer last experienced what may be described in any next part that the memory cannot recall descriptive details for the writing. Please bear with us until this problem is fixed.

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 VIII - A Bitter Pill. Swallow!!

Students,

Bitter is a word with a few meanings, my favourite being the cool alcoholic beverage I am too geographically far away from to consume. It also has the meaning ‘to leave a bad taste in one’s mouth.’ Unfortunately today that is what Teacher has in his mouth and it is not something I am able to swallow down (though as I’m British I will not spit either.) A warning: you may guess that there is a storm brewing and you’d be right. If you do not wish to spend the next few minutes hearing thinly-veiled attacks on everything and everyone around, you may wish to excuse yourself, pop an apple on my desk, and return later……….. Ok? You choose to stay? Good. I assume that means you enjoy a good bitch-fest as much as any radical lesbian or muff-diving Christian.

I would like to tell you that the world I see around me is full of rainbows, smiling gay faces, and that daily I am up to my elbows in ‘A’. However that unfortunately is not the case. I, like you, have to deal with a range of unpleasant chores of life such as paying bills, marking students work (maybe you don’t have to do that you lucky buggers), and bugging the zoned-out staff in my hotel home to FINALLY do something about properly fixing my internet connection. If any of you can inform me whom I have to shag to sort out that problem then you also will be considered for ‘A’ from me… I am unsure if it is due to my former employer (read: prancing git) passing my evening classes to another teacher whom he considered to be worse off financially so leaving me with more time on my hands and less cash to flash or if I’m simply feeling some January blues. Either way I am sure that my patience is eroded and my frown lines are deepening…

Now I know it’s not in my nature to have a completely worry-free outlook and as my wise mother tells me “Boyo you are intolerant”, but I just wish sometimes that I could be a bit more ‘zen’ than I find myself able to be and not quite so inward thinking… Are you listening Id/Ego/Superego?? I am in the ‘land of smiles’ and at the moment all I do is bitch and get confrontational with those who cross me. I don’t want to look back in a few years and say “Oh Britney was I an obsessive nut job or what?” Thing is I’m sure personal friends wouldn’t suspect I was such a negative person but often when I’m on my own I think negatively and can’t just let things be… And that’s when I start to blog and you lucky students get to listen to my rant!

Sooooooo in an effort to feng shui my subconscious (read: offload), in our blog today I will allow Id/Ego/Superego to each choose one matter to give their two pence on and then said matters shall not be discussed again. (Former yellow-woggled leader of) Scout's honour. Oh and Id has been too vocal lately so he only gets one pence:

Id: Head in bed only this week, honey. No ‘A’. So… No point in beating yourself (too much.) But(t) you gotta get some juice into your (love) machine. Go get into another tight spot and find some thrust for your life. Fill your nights with play and your mornings with lay. Roll in the hay and continue being gay gay GAY!!

Ego: Students by now you should know this mo aint no goodie goodie and he aint no racialist neither. Everyone is equal and everyone (occasionally) deserves short shrift and spankies as much as they deserve praise and tongue-kissing. What I’m going to talk about then is a point concerning simple Thai folks. I do not mean to generalize and I love this country. No offence is intended (Id: “Even from a dyke’s mouth”) and none is taken, but observations must be made.

The Thai way is one where everything must be kept happy and smiley and tradition is very important. Sounds peachy, right? Yes it is until you want to do something but can’t ‘just because.’ The ‘just because’ in question is often that someone high up does not agree with it. Now as much as I love my Queen I do not think she is a deity. She is a human being who must blow her nose, visit the loo, and deal with unpleasant people just as I do. She is not above questioning and I have the right, should I wish, to suggest she is not a good Queen (which I wouldn’t because I like her, Edward on the other hand…) So if I am instructed that I must wear black for 100 days during working hours and stay in and not have a social drink on Saturday night because an 85 year-old woman of royal connection died of natural causes then have I not the right to say “That sir is dumb”? Apparently not or I will be court-martialled (And these minor points are completely the tip of the proverbial iceberg.) What makes it worse is everyone pretending to care when they actually (in Lopburi anyway) ‘couldn’t give a monkeys.’

The Thais usually have a disturbingly casual approach to hearing of death: they shrug off that a teenager was mowed down by a bus but for an 85 year old woman with a privileged life they put up a big show of sorrow. This is all about keeping face socially and never actually saying what’s on your mind. Ever. And it begins to grate. I’ll wear the black (it’s at least preferable to yellow) because this isn’t a question of respect (for which I am happy to oblige); it’s a question of being an individual with a mind that is your own. If Thai people wish to move on and change their country for the better they really should quit thinking others are better than them, quit gossiping quite so much, and form an opinion based on the facts at hand. Doing otherwise is, in my opinion, infantile and counter-productive.

BTW it is never a bad thing when Thai men make me their king… Toodles!

Superego: I gotta try and impose some decency while dealing with a whole lot of wants from brother Id. All his wants can comfortably fit into three categories: men, food, and drink. There is one place to visit to satisfy these and that place is 7/11; a grocery store chain found in every township. Sadly, as the chain is American it is hopelessly stuffed with gross junk food (and its Thai influence means any and all snacks usually contain some kind of fish flavouring.) However these points are not the only downsides as I will explain later.

I go to 7/11 daily for items such as green tea, iced coffee, water, soda water, liquor, ham & cheese toasted sandwiches, noodles, razors, gum, phone credit, and the occasional pack of cigarettes. It’s proximity to the market makes it a perfect place to spot hot Thai guys in their natural habitat. As has been mentioned in a former post, I was also picked-up by a Tarzan look-alike there (FYI I did not allow him to make me his Queen Jane…) so 7/11 is handy all-round. However. Being a convenience store I’m sorry to report that it is often far from convenient.

As you know I swing both ways and am a chap able in dealing with problems of right and wrong. To help improve my mood (and halt Id’s desire for problem-solving through violence) when I next go there to be serviced (pun intended), I have authored the following brief open letter to 7/11. I hope that should they pop by and read this, the Thai operation will make some changes (or make some sackings.) Be a man, give their hides a tan.

From the pen of: Teacher
To: Kind Yanks
Date: I don’t do dates

Dear sirs and madams,

I feel compelled to point out some problems with service in your Thai stores. This is largely to do with customers who clearly feel polite social codes do not apply to them, but also is in part down to employees not being on the ball. Please attend closely the following points for having worked as a retail lackey over several years I know a thing or two. And it will be me who gets others blood on your store’s produce if things don’t change.

· If I am waiting patiently in line with my goods please could your staff not serve the first person who comes dashing in from the street to pay a bill, thus rendering me invisible? Not only does this snap my patience like one might saucily snap a cheeky lover’s knicker elastic, but it also sadly means I will be waiting a whole lot longer since the customer will typically have not just one bill but three or four they have saved to pay together. This of course is easy for them but it makes me want to make things even easier by ensuring they never have to pay another bill again. Instead they can rest in a baseball bat-induced coma after I’ve taken their rudeness to suggest they would like to be rendered a vegetable. Please may your staff assist me in telling these folk the Thai equivalent of “Back. It. Up.” The employee would not be considered rude. They would be providing a humanitarian service.
· I cannot speak fluent Thai and your employees cannot speak fluent English. We are therefore equally matched and must interpret each other through the few words we know of each other’s language. All I ask for are “Sangsom” (liquor of choice), “True Move ha-sib” (phone credit of fifty baht), “Sandwich ham cheese”, and “Tylenol” (drugs required after the headache that oddly seems to hit as soon as I begin queuing.) Since I use the Thai verbal tones and often also point or perform charades to demonstrate what I want, I do not understand the confusion or need for three staff to listen to me repeating myself. Strange that nine year-olds can interpret me but educated adults cannot. The only thing I can think is that I am seen in the queue and it’s then decided as I’m a foreigner I cannot be understood. Believe me I have been there: I used to serve drunk Glaswegians for a living. There is no more impenetrable accent particularly with the accompaniment of alcohol (and some also hate the English) but I persevered, and never once got my face broken. Should your employees continue to serve me with their brains switched off they may not be so lucky.
· I am not a person who especially cares what others think but I do care when I am talked about in plain sight. Staff know I have been here a while and so should also know that I know the meaning of the word “farang” (English: foreigner.) Y’know? I expect to hear this every time I walk past some gossipy fishwives on the street but I do not expect or wish to hear it as employees pass comment on me while I wait in the queue (particularly after I deliberately smiled and greeted them when I first walked in.) Yes, I have been seen inebriated in the store with Social Director on more than one occasion. Yes on one such occasion I made a loud pronouncement when asked about a certain bodily organ. There is lots of gossip fodder but could everyone just do it when I am leaving or at the back of the store trying to locate the one brand of noodles out of twenty varieties that does not contain either prawn or shrimp??

Thanking you Americans in anticipation of your kind support.

Teacher.

Ps. I like Obama now.


So you see students, everything can be sorted if you just take the time to put things right. And also know that you are always right. Should you feel offended by my rant then please avoid me anytime I really have a 'bee in my bonnet.' I hope precious ones you are not offended and know me well enough to percieve that I usually am as sweet as a smurf dipped in chocolate and rolled around in sprinklings before being dressed in a pink tutu.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

No homework today: I’m not marking more.


x Teacher

Story Post – First Part 'The Stranger and I'

He was older than me, that’s what I noticed first, probably not too far into his late twenties, but enough that the creases in his tanned face were starting to frame the eyes and disturb the smoothness of his forehead. Not that it didn’t suit him; his relaxed rugged expression showed little sign of worry or the impatience usually found on arriving after travel to find staff so ill-prepared. If anything he seemed as though he shrugged off mundane troubles like he flicked away his cigarette ash. His dreamily casual air had caught the attention of all present and as he turned to check his reflection in the wall mirror yet more curious staff hurried into the lobby to see for themselves the night visitor who had journeyed so far. They joined me in surveying his broad chest and solid shoulders under a creased black Gap t-shirt. They held back as he turned from his bags and the counter. I instinctively checked my wristwatch before peering hesitantly again.

This man was light of step but in a very masculine way and I wondered if he might play some kind of field sport. As he turned to the mirror I regarded his firm buttocks, no doubt held in place by some tight white CK’s. He lifted up a hairy arm and wiped a bead of perspiration from his brow. He did this with an easy movement so the sweat caught his muscled forearm and his wide palm brushed over the skin. If he’d had a bottle of water to drench his messy curls it’d perfectly complete the sportsman look, him languidly rinsing the dirt from his skin. When he moved his free hand to pat down some wayward dark hair I saw him smile amusedly to himself, and his eyes squinted slightly as he did so. As he regarded his face just a little bit closer he buried his hands in the pockets of his faded Levi’s, stood back on his heels for a moment, then whirled around to face me.

For just a second his fox-like brown eyes met mine and a second later mine were pressing hard into the wood of the computer desk. I breathed out and closed my eyes embarrassedly. It was force of habit for me to notice attractive guys, and more so for me to survey their chests, their arms, but especially their buttocks. I could appreciate the looks of many but this guy had made me look much closer. I had been enjoying the view and had stared unguardedly. I hated nothing more than social embarrassment and he must have seen me staring like some schoolgirl.

I dejectedly opened my eyes, cursing myself, but dared to look back up. What was it that now caused the counter girls to giggle so unashamedly? I listened for his voice; he was probably flirting without even trying. I drew my gaze up to see the window straight ahead and I tried to make out the reflected scene behind me. It was then that I felt a warm hand heavy on my right shoulder…


TO BE CONTINUED

Post-It Note - The Talented Mr. Craig

Students, I won't keep you a moment...

It seems I am about to advertise again, but this mini post is heartfelt. You see I have long been an admirer of Daniel Craig. I would go so far as to say that I believe him the epitome of English masculinity and style in the noughties. He is one hell of a good actor and one hell of a good James Bond. He is also one hell of a good-looking man. Enough hell's for you?

Now that the title of Bond film 22 has been revealed today as Quantum of Solace I take the opportunity to say "Mr. Craig I salute you sir."

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Join me in stroking Mr. Craig's ego. And other things should our paths ever cross and he allow it (kidding... a little.)

x Teacher

Post VII - You won’t ever want to come / go back

Students,

Advertising is something I would never usually do (even though Ego doesn’t mind self-advertisement now and again) but after mine and the gang’s sojourn last weekend to a sleepy (read: comatose) corner of the Thai countryside I feel I really must allow our hosts the opportunity to sell what is available for the foreign tourists the village hopes to attract:
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Come farang enjoy see old Thairand… Thai style Thai style!!!

You see things NEVER see before:

- The dam of water. Put your head through giant sunflower for photo – nice!
- Ancient pots and pans from forest people of 10,000 years ago (according to Japanese…)
- A forest with swamp where water comes from underground and there are many trees. Look Pollyanna! That one is green. That one is big… Take photo!
- See exotic fruits and vegetables. Look! A lime.
- Take a tour around village in car of tractor. 1mph speed. See amazing sights. Look! The dam. The sun. A field. A cow in the field. Smile for photos!
- Wake up early for go feed monks. Don’t look. Don’t speak. Don’t touch. You no wake up? The fairy comes to wake you anyway. Give him a banana! And he has a girlfriend, you know? Hahahahahaha shriek.
- Eat dinner on floor. Green curry - Thai style! Sticky rice – Thai style!! Move and talk to everyone, they Engrish learn. And fairy says speak Engrish on microphone.. is “f*cking c*nt” Engrish, teacher? We take photo and video you.
- Eat girls. They come. See you. Take photo! And see dancing girls. The music of xylophone and music of wail. You NEVER see Thai style before! I love you.
- Go bed same village Saturday night 8.01pm. Bad dogs guard you sleep.
- Sleep on wood table in Thai style RESORT house (read: shed), yes? No puking. Mind the sign.
- We give you form to fill. Take everywhere for essay write. Then take photos. Then go see monkeys.. NEVER see before! Take photos! (No wear flowers.)

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Id: No honey for honey. Or even money. Rest for wicked this weekend. Husband only one getting ‘A’. Go swimming in it! (But not in the country.)

Ego: Be British! Stiff upper lip only thing stiff in country. Unless you count scared stiff. Or stiff back from ‘bed.’ Or stiff smile. Village full of stiffs.

Superego: In the country I only wanted to go one way: home. Save it for old folks / hippy skanks / God botherers (“Ooh we can conver.. sorry, tell them about the Lord”) / swotty Japanese photo fetishists. Oh and be a man Chinese man: come out of the closet it’s nice out here and you playing straight must be such hard work.

Now before you go, let me be serious for a moment and say that the planning of the trip described was very hard work for the Thai locals and for that I am appreciative and mean no disrespect. As ever a little light ribbing is not uncalled for. However a fairy is to blame for coercing my group into attending and really should have been more forthcoming with the conditions and requirements of the area. I told him as much during the past school week. If I'd been in possession of the facts I would never have agreed - or dragged along my cohorts. Even though I come from a rural area and am used to roughing it, there is roughing it and then there is roughing it. Our experience was the latter and I am indebted to Brad and Natalie for coming along so I didn't lose my mind with the snap-happy Japanese (who were ridiculous!) or commit violence to an overly-eager headmistress.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

.

Homework: Put that lime to use and make me a little gin and tonic, sweetie.

.

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