No one ever reads my journal entries (except Consuela, she's rad), and I usually have nothing important to say during the week anyways. Even my best friend MeneRok claims he doesn't have time to keep a journal, or post in mine (I know you've got a busy life filled with boozing and whoring around downtown Sac you asshole...) So, I've decided to do a bit of storytelling. I have an assload of experiences that I have yet to document before my memory completely deteriorates. If anyone actually reads this and has any questions about any of these experiences, please ask, and if you have been through anything remotely similiar, please tell me the story.
So here it goes:
This explains my most humbling moment
It was the summer of 2001. I had just graduated from UNLV and planned to move away from America for good. I bought a one way ticket to a town in Southern Norway and split. I brought around eleven hundred hits of L to fund my new life abroad, a weeks worth of clothes, and my record bag. Now during the summer in Norway, there is no darkness. Twenty-four hours of sunlight! So these kids, who had spent the prior six months in darkness, were going fucking berzerk. With the help of harsh chemicals and amazing new surroundings I joined in the mayhem...
A week went by in a blink of an eye. Then I left for Amsterdam...that week felt like a year...then I left for Germany. I was to meet up with a Polish girl from Norway in Berlin for
Love Parade. She was surprisingly easy to find. Then I spent a week in a small German village called Bunde with a great kid that I met at the Parade. (I am skipping over soooo many other stories, but they will come another day) After a week, I returned to Norway to relax and prepare for the real trip...I bought a one way ticket to Bankok. I planned on fucking around for a month or two before finding a job as an English teacher, bartender, whatever... I ended up on this amazing island called Samui. I stayed in a hut on the beach (the water was ALWAYS warm) for about six bucks a night. I did this whole cleansing fast along with morning yoga and sunset meditation sessions on the beach at the Spa. I didn't eat for a fucking week! But I felt sooooo good afterwards. So now that my head was clear, it was time to RAGE! I hit the Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan, along with random beach parties and assorted booze filled madness...
Eventually, I decided that I better buckle down and find another source of income. Some guys that I had met at the Spa offered me a job in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. They had a company that sold banking software to Chinese clients. I was very excited, KL is the fucking NYC of Asia. They offered me enough money to live very well in KL, and a furnished apartment. They got me a bus ticket to KL, and arranged a hotel for me beginning on September 13, 2001. Everything was falling into place. Now I was still in Koh Samui, Thailand on the 11th, and we all know what happened on that day. I began getting frantic e-mails from all my relatives urging me to come home ASAP. I replied that I was going to see how things panned out and not to worry because I am strong and can take care of myself. Well, my bus was scheduled to leave at 7am, so my dumb ass did what I would normally do in that situation, drink myself stupid till departure time. That way, I can sleep the whole trip and enjoy my last night in Thailand.
*BOOM*
The last thing I can remember was drinking at the bar with a Norwegian, two Dutchmen, and a couple of Frenchmen. What the fuck had happened to me? Whatever it was, I knew it was bad...there was blood everywhere, and it hurt to move any part of my body, a lot! And then I saw it. I had a bloodsoaked napkin duct taped around my leg? "Who did this?" I thought. Thai medical care can't be this bad! Eventually I heard a knock at the door...it was an middle aged Thai woman named Pen. She told me the tale of the night before. A frenchman that I had befriended at the bar and she had found my mangled body. Apparantly I had the amazingly clever idea to drive home from the bar on my motercycle. She said that she saw the whole thing. I missed a turn in the road and drove straight into a Buddhist temple. I was wearing a helmet, thank god, but little else due to the tropical climate. I had made a lot of noise and had woken up most of the sleeping monks. They assumed I was dead because I was unconscious and bleeding. Pen joined the monks who were already praying to Buddha that I not die. They finally revived me (PRAISE BUDDHA!), and took me back to my little hut on the beach. When I asked her why they never took me to a doctor she explained that I had refused medical treatment, she told me,"You say no doctor! I need cocaine! I explain to you that we no have cocaine in Thailand, but you no listen!" I, of course remember nothing of this, but it doesn't sound that unlike an incredibly inebriated me. I'm sure the loss of blood didn't help. So they took me to a doctor that morning. But, I wouldn't really call her a Doctor. It was more like a lady sitting on the ground in front of me sewing up my knee without anesthetic. I had several broken ribs, a sprained wrist, fucked up shoulder, stitched up knee, and a scab that went down my right side from my forehead to my toes. I could barely carry my bags, and I couldn't walk very far. I felt helpless. With the impending war and my tattered condition, I decided I should just head home to America to recoup. If that accident or 9/11 had not occurred, I would probably be in Asia today. Of all the stupid things I have done in my life, coming back to America is the only one I regret. Well, I guess things happen for a reason...we'll see.
*Sorry this story ran so fucking long, I tried to be concise. The next one will be shorter and more eloquently written, but this one just had so much crap to tell that there was no room for articulacy.
So here it goes:
This explains my most humbling moment
It was the summer of 2001. I had just graduated from UNLV and planned to move away from America for good. I bought a one way ticket to a town in Southern Norway and split. I brought around eleven hundred hits of L to fund my new life abroad, a weeks worth of clothes, and my record bag. Now during the summer in Norway, there is no darkness. Twenty-four hours of sunlight! So these kids, who had spent the prior six months in darkness, were going fucking berzerk. With the help of harsh chemicals and amazing new surroundings I joined in the mayhem...
A week went by in a blink of an eye. Then I left for Amsterdam...that week felt like a year...then I left for Germany. I was to meet up with a Polish girl from Norway in Berlin for
Love Parade. She was surprisingly easy to find. Then I spent a week in a small German village called Bunde with a great kid that I met at the Parade. (I am skipping over soooo many other stories, but they will come another day) After a week, I returned to Norway to relax and prepare for the real trip...I bought a one way ticket to Bankok. I planned on fucking around for a month or two before finding a job as an English teacher, bartender, whatever... I ended up on this amazing island called Samui. I stayed in a hut on the beach (the water was ALWAYS warm) for about six bucks a night. I did this whole cleansing fast along with morning yoga and sunset meditation sessions on the beach at the Spa. I didn't eat for a fucking week! But I felt sooooo good afterwards. So now that my head was clear, it was time to RAGE! I hit the Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan, along with random beach parties and assorted booze filled madness...
Eventually, I decided that I better buckle down and find another source of income. Some guys that I had met at the Spa offered me a job in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. They had a company that sold banking software to Chinese clients. I was very excited, KL is the fucking NYC of Asia. They offered me enough money to live very well in KL, and a furnished apartment. They got me a bus ticket to KL, and arranged a hotel for me beginning on September 13, 2001. Everything was falling into place. Now I was still in Koh Samui, Thailand on the 11th, and we all know what happened on that day. I began getting frantic e-mails from all my relatives urging me to come home ASAP. I replied that I was going to see how things panned out and not to worry because I am strong and can take care of myself. Well, my bus was scheduled to leave at 7am, so my dumb ass did what I would normally do in that situation, drink myself stupid till departure time. That way, I can sleep the whole trip and enjoy my last night in Thailand.
*BOOM*
The last thing I can remember was drinking at the bar with a Norwegian, two Dutchmen, and a couple of Frenchmen. What the fuck had happened to me? Whatever it was, I knew it was bad...there was blood everywhere, and it hurt to move any part of my body, a lot! And then I saw it. I had a bloodsoaked napkin duct taped around my leg? "Who did this?" I thought. Thai medical care can't be this bad! Eventually I heard a knock at the door...it was an middle aged Thai woman named Pen. She told me the tale of the night before. A frenchman that I had befriended at the bar and she had found my mangled body. Apparantly I had the amazingly clever idea to drive home from the bar on my motercycle. She said that she saw the whole thing. I missed a turn in the road and drove straight into a Buddhist temple. I was wearing a helmet, thank god, but little else due to the tropical climate. I had made a lot of noise and had woken up most of the sleeping monks. They assumed I was dead because I was unconscious and bleeding. Pen joined the monks who were already praying to Buddha that I not die. They finally revived me (PRAISE BUDDHA!), and took me back to my little hut on the beach. When I asked her why they never took me to a doctor she explained that I had refused medical treatment, she told me,"You say no doctor! I need cocaine! I explain to you that we no have cocaine in Thailand, but you no listen!" I, of course remember nothing of this, but it doesn't sound that unlike an incredibly inebriated me. I'm sure the loss of blood didn't help. So they took me to a doctor that morning. But, I wouldn't really call her a Doctor. It was more like a lady sitting on the ground in front of me sewing up my knee without anesthetic. I had several broken ribs, a sprained wrist, fucked up shoulder, stitched up knee, and a scab that went down my right side from my forehead to my toes. I could barely carry my bags, and I couldn't walk very far. I felt helpless. With the impending war and my tattered condition, I decided I should just head home to America to recoup. If that accident or 9/11 had not occurred, I would probably be in Asia today. Of all the stupid things I have done in my life, coming back to America is the only one I regret. Well, I guess things happen for a reason...we'll see.
*Sorry this story ran so fucking long, I tried to be concise. The next one will be shorter and more eloquently written, but this one just had so much crap to tell that there was no room for articulacy.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
sounds like quite the yarn! but just cause my life is hellishly boring doesn't mean everyone elses has to be.
i can only wish for crazy shenanigans like that.
oh and consuela posts all the time...she's rad
and of course when ever I see the word shenanigans i must post the following...
Thorny: "C'mon, you can't lump us in with that fuckin' martian."
Mac: "Yeah...I mean, our shenanigans are cheeky and fun."
Thorny: "His shenanigans are cruel and tragic."
Foster: "Which makes them not shenanigans at all...really."
Mac (with Irish accent): "Evil Shenanigans."
O'Hagan (yelling): "I swear to God I'm gonna pistol whip the next person who says shenanigans!"
Mac (yelling to other room): "Hey Farva, what's that restaurant you like with all the goofy shit on the walls and the mozzarella sticks?"
Farva (yelling back): "You mean Shenanigans?"