Coronafornia Dreamin’ Part 2: Silver Linings

The airlines have decided to stay grounded until May 1, which coincidentally is the same day the Thai authorities are scheduled to reopen the airport, so I’ve purchased a ticket on Eva Air for May 2. As long as nothing changes between now and then, I can look forward to finally getting back home to Bangkok. So as I’m dealing with the uncertainty of going or not going, plus the impending mandatory 14-day quarantine in a hotel near Suvarnnabhumi, I’ve decided to focus on the good aspects—what little there are—of this scenario. Here are the perks of 7 weeks of exile in Southern California, in no specific order: free room and board, good wine, nights at my old flatmate’s. End of list. I don’t know what your days are looking like, but if they bear any resemblance to mine, by now those little annoyances that were a small inconvenience at the start of the lockdown have started to look like legit reasons for committing homicide. Let me tell you about the rut I’ve been stuck in since March 9th

7:00 am. Wake up turn on the coffee machine, check updates on international travel bans and Covid in Thailand (currently miniscule compared to the West, yet Prayut is still inexplicably destroying the country with a lockdown), respond to emails. Watch governor Cuomo prattle on senselessly about a virus he has zero power over. Work on several ongoing blogs. Watch Youtube videos.

11:30. Make eggs and/or a salad. Eat the salad. Take a walk around the neighborhood.

12:30. Take a nap

2:30. Check emails. Line message my harem for updates and sexy selfies (theirs, not mine). Watch Youtube videos.

4:00. Open a bottle of Central Coast wine with a cheese and charcuterie plate.

6:00. Eat whatever my mum put on the stove.

7:00. Watch Jeopardy.

8:00. Drive to the wine shop, then over to my old flatmate’s house to drink vodka and watch HBO.

Midnight. Return home and go to bed.

I have followed this precise routine for 5 weeks straight. To break up the monotony, every three days or so I buy groceries for my mum and brother. I’ve gained 12 pounds since arriving and accept that I will continue to fatten up until such time as I can return to Thailand. But this blog is about looking on the bright side, so never mind that.

One literal silver lining is, it’s finally stopped raining. Inconceivably, Southern California has been drenched in rain virtually every day since I arrived, with only 5 dry days out of 35. And the forecast is for more showers this weekend, but for now the sun is out, the sky is blue, and moving from the TV room to the back garden, despite still technically being locked-in, feels like a bit of a prison break. For now, I can sit outside with a bottle of Cabernet Franc and a cigar and sniff a hint of freedom.

Another upside is, I’ve decided to try to slow my weight gain by eating keto as much as possible. It’s difficult, because my mum and brother follow a diet that is 90% carbs, 5% protein, and 5% refined sugar. But I can usually pick around the noodles, beans, and cupcakes on my plate and zero in on meat and veg. The real killer at the moment is booze. I’m positively saturated in wine and beer. Something I bet Bangkokians are envying right now, since they’re a week in to a total booze ban that goes till the end of the month (I can almost hear you yelling “Don’t remind me!”) Anyhoo, that’s at least one plus to being trapped here.


Another upside to being in L.A. was created by the crisis. Since I’ve not been back to my Bangkok

apartment in over a month, it’s likely my water, power, and wifi have been shut off due to not paying the bills on time. So were I to return now, it would probably be to a dark, hot apartment with no water, no internet, and spoiled mayonnaise in the fridge. F-that, friends. At least here I’ve got fast web access, cable TV, working electricity, cold beers, and running hot-n-cold. That’s got to be better than the alternative, right? I mean sure, if I was in BK I’d have the peace and serenity of solitude, interrupted only sporadically by visiting harem girls. I’d have lots of time to paint, exercise, and practice ukulele. I’d be free to roam around my neighborhood during non-curfew hours. I’d be spared the constant list of chores that my mum bombards me with on a daily basis.

But this blog is about being positive.



 So looking on the bright side….hmmm. There has to be something else….oh, OK here’s one: no curfew in Los Angeles. I can drive over to my old flatmate’s at 9 pm and we can keep up with Westworld and The Walking Dead, and then I can roll home around midnight without fear. I can even stop at In-n-Out Burger or El Indio—LA’s best Mexican takeaway—for some late-night snacks to go with whatever Mexican beer I’m bringing over (two things I miss dearly when in Thailand). It’s not keto, but I see it as my reward for not going crazy in the company of my family. Compensation for staying sane (compensanetion for short, copyright BKK7).

If I’m honest, the hardest part about being here is the distance between me and my harem. My girls message me daily asking when I’m coming back. Many of them are starving, possibly literally. Once a week or so, I transfer 20 bucks to this or that one, keeping their kids in diapers, keeping the lights on. I know they’ll pay be back in bed once I’m finally home again, but in truth I haven’t been keeping track of debts. These are hard times, and I’m frankly just happy to be able to help them. I love them, in my own small heartless way. And LA is what it’s always been—a pussy desert. The women here are fat, stupid, lazy and somehow simultaneously conceited and entitled. They’re also damaged, mentally unstable, and confused about the definitions of words like “woman” and “femininity.” It’s not worth the hassle. So a single man in Los Angeles is a solitary man. A lonesome man. An army of one. A lone ranger. A self-lover. A chronic masturbator. For that reason, I’m quite anxious to get back to my lovely array of sex buddies, all of whom are afraid to leave the house. It’ll be quite a reunion when Seven’s finally back as their saddle again. Ride ‘em, cowgirls.

For now, I’m just drinking, eating, crossing days off the calendar and crossing my fingers. Trying to stay optimistic. I booked a flight on Eva Air for May 2. If Prayut doesn’t extend the flight ban, I’ll be home sooner rather than later, for a mandatory 14-day quarantine at a facility near the airport. I hear tell you have to have a roommate due to limited space, which for me means two weeks cooped up with a stranger, totally defeating the purpos of quarantine in classic Thai fashion. But it’s better than staying here. So as I pop open a bottle of Prosecco to make a kir royale, I toast all of you who are hunkering down and sobering up in Thailand. I hope to God I’ll be one of you in two weeks’ time. Cheers to another week above ground and Covid-free, gents. Lets all keep our chins up.