January 24, 2020 By bangkok7
Greetings, reader. My name is Seven and this is my blog. On Fridays I’ve been Frowing back to my life before Thailand. Before bliss. Before paradise. Before all my problems disappeared and existence became the stuff that dreams are made of. For the last 20-odd weeks I’ve been posting a series of blogs that I wrote in the mid-2000s narrating the end of my last farang relationship and the days leading up to my exit from the United States. The following is my last entry from that period, and the last thing I wrote whilst in America. A month later I was on a plane to the UK.
Rather than attempting to explain the sentiment behind it, I’ll just put it here, and you can derive your own meaning from it…
“Sometime in June, 2007 Current mood: numb
Heaven or Sonoma
Once there was a demon who got tired of Hell, and sick and tired of traipsing over the same old haunts on Earth—mainly the luminescent boulevards of Los Angeles between the 101 and the 3rd Street Promenade. So one day he happened by the Pearly Gates, and on a fluke (the doorman was distracted by a passing comet he mistook for a lawyer trying to skate by) sneaked past and back into Heaven.
Imagine his surprise when he saw what had become of the place. So many changes! And lots more people, and things to do. The familiar feeling of bliss—indescribable and at the same time totally, utterly satisfying—crept over him, and he remembered again that time before the fall when God breathed life into his lungs and everything tasted like perfection, even the air. He walked the streets, gazing into the eyes of the redeemed, almost feeling like one of them himself. The smell of forgiveness intoxicating his brain, the trembling shivering touch of absolution like having sex with lightning and a slow, heady thrum in his temples reminded him of what it was like to be pure, accepted, sought after, communed with, and loved.
On that same day, an angel wandered too far to the edge of Heaven, and happened to look over into the world. There he saw such temptations as never passed through his mind. Seduction called like a siren to his pristine, unassuming ears. He stared into what humans call “lust” and saw there something of himself he had never realized existed. He gasped at the stark vulnerability of a woman’s breasts, leered at the shameful embrace of a couple in an ally, got drunk on the sight of copulation between a prostitute and two clients in the shadow of the Chateau Marmont. He couldn’t help but fall.
As he wandered the streets, he smelled the fragrant aroma of fear, of incompleteness that comes from never getting what you want and substituting it with sex for hire, and the lolling sound of lost youth, raped innocence, and shame, which sound exactly like trance music in a West Hollywood nightclub. He saw fake id’s and 18-year-olds being preyed on by wolves, their reproductive organs being mowed through by a razor blade wrapped in a condom. They didn’t even realize they were being murdered—they even moaned in ecstasy. As he wandered the dimly lit streets of Beverly Hills, he heard the cries of the beautiful as they were seduced deeper into darkness, like Hansel and Gretel with no breadcrumbs, and he realized why God had kept him from this nightmare. He made haste back to the gates of Heaven and the safety of his Father’s bosom.
As he passed by Saint Peter, he met the demon fleeing back down to Earth.
“I don’t know how you can stand it,” said the demon to the angel. “It’s almost too much to take.”
“I know what you mean,” replied the angel. “We aren’t made to see such things—feel such things.”
“You can say that again,” the demon said, and hurried into the shadow of the Santa Monica Pier. The angel slipped quietly back into Heaven, relieved to be home, taking in big gulps of pure, sinless air. The demon, meanwhile, sought out a hooker, deeply imbibed of her perfume, and leaned back against a tree to watch her service a movie agent before he went home to his wife and children.
The muse: Cult Cab 2004
The price: $125”
And that, as they say, is that. The end of my Delirium Days, and the beginning of a new life overseas. Next week’s Frowback will be the first of a new series focusing on the precious few exploits I enjoyed while living in merry ol’ England, so tune in on Friday for that, and between now and then keep your balls warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the best place on Earth—Thailand.