December 20, 2019 By bangkok7
Greetings cyber-traveler, my name is Seven and this is my blog. Specifically, it’s part 15 of an ongoing series that takes a hard, honest look at the life I led before relocating to Thailand. At this point, nearly 13 years ago now, I knew my final relationship with a farang female was ending. The following was a last drunken open letter to her in the form of a wine blog. I remember hoping she’d read it but deep down, I knew it wouldn’t change anything. Thankfully, it all ended well. But when I was in the midst of it, the whole world seemed to be falling in on me. All that kept me going was wine–lots of it–and long solitary walks along the Pacific Ocean…
“Wednesday, February 28, 2007 Current mood: drunk
Witches and Elixirs
Tonight was my parents’ anniversary, so the occasion called for something special. Showkett Cabernet. $80 a bottle. Like liquid sex down the throat is what it is. Heidi Barrett, famed maker of Screaming Eagle ($2000 per bottle) makes the stuff for us peons, so we can get a few drops of Jupiter at a price we can afford. I didn’t tell mom and dad how much it cost—they would’ve had a conniption. It was succulent, sensuous, like a long lost lover back for one night of old-time’s-sake. Heidi Barrett, if you said you were a witch I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. Every sip casts a spell.
If I could have one wish, it would be to be tricked. Hoodwinked. Spellbound. Trampled under, wheeled asunder. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. Stop being evasive, stop spinning our wheels, stop beating around and beating me up and just carpe the fucking diem for Christ’s sake. What the fuck are you waiting for, a goddam starter gun? The race is already being run! Get off your high horse and get in the fray, fuck! Are you in it to win it or just a fly on the wall? You want to have your cake and eat it too but you’re standing in the motherfucking cake, fuck, you ARE the cake what more can you ask for just dig in give in give over give me what I say I don’t want but what I’m clearly, clearly asking for not your heart oh God are you that sentimental? No, just a kiss, it’s just a kiss can you let your guard down and stop making everything a mystery to solve I’m only trying to hold you in these arms and make no promise but what a moment can capture like a snapshot in your soul.
The Showkett does its magic. It seeps into the corners of my mind, the dark places, hidden things, dreams, nightmares, fears, hopes, loves, longings, long-asleep inspiral aspirations like galaxies stirred into your coffee it flows down caught in the momentum and then floats up toward your lips a timid kiss the way it should be demure in the shadow of your ideal an icon like a monolith rising up between me and a lithium sunset so soft and smelling of breath like a sigh and a sleep, a dream of you and a fetal caress, naked and unashamed, the early morning hours draped like love showers, adorning, a coronation, a soft and beckoning sensation more than will, more than instinct, a synchronism, a recognition, a reckoning a reversal a realization of that fiction that whispers a word like love. A sacrilege. A bruising caress. It begs for a blunt-force companion. Something like sweet nothings but closer to a dirty fight—a shiv in the guts. That’s what you are.
I hear you. Not a soliloquy, no it’s not for anyone else to hear. I know, I feel it, yet I will pretend not to notice, since I know what you will do if I, if anyone responds with a kind word, with a heart, with an open embrace you will claw your way out as if it’s not love that you want but rather a black heart, a shadow and a naked embrace, like a cold flame, a glint of steel against your white skin. I will give you what you ask for, even though it could be so much more. Bury your pain, silence your longing.
I am waiting for you in the dark.”
As someone who literally and figuratively dodged a bullet back in the States, I read this record of my misery now with a combination of relief, regret, and rejoicing. Relief that I came out the other side with my life (I nearly offed myself back then), regret for not getting out sooner, and rejoicing that life now–life in Thailand–is one happy day after another. Moving here changed everything.
Until next time, friends, keep your balls bald, your beer bubbly, and cheers to another week above ground in Paradise. Peace out.