Jan 24, 2014


I was re-reading George Orwell's "Nineteen Eighty-four" in preparation of a review of Dave Egger's "The Circle," (Facebook as new totalitarianism), when this message from Tagged@taggedmail.com arrived in my mailbox:

Jan 23, 2014

Jan 21, 2014

The religious war is over

Bang Kapi (Mr. E.)

Mr, E., yes, Mr. E., the mysterious blogger behind the brilliant blog 50ShadyGays has finished his book, and here's a teaser, the first part of the first chapter, titled "Bang Kapi." It's out, the book, it's on Amazon, scroll down for the link. (Artwork by Bob Bienpensant).

I had descended with some trepidation. It felt like I was looking for justice, but here in Bangkok there is no justice, only karma. The motorbike taxi driver who had greeted me at the entrance to my condo was particularly feral, he had skin tight jeans and oil stained hands. He reeked of Thai Whiskey, cheap cigarettes and fingering. A heavy night weighed down on his eyelids, and I could see the morning sun was not his friend. He drove like a lunatic and decided to have an argument with a girl on his phone while we were speeding on the burning overpass. Now I am sitting in a soulless shopping mall, listening to a fat, old drunk who is dressed like a clown. He is talking and all I can hope is that this grotesque scene is merely a shadow dancing on the wall of my imagination.

“...You see it was the seventies and it was a whole different time back then...”

I’m not exactly sure why I had arranged this meeting with James, it is the third time that I have met him. I suppose I had become fascinated by the twisted turns of our conversations, I don’t know, I have always been drawn to the macabre. As he pours Whiskey from his silver flask into his paper Starbucks cup, I am still trying to figure this all out.

He’s talking again but I’m not really listening. I acknowledge the clangs of the dropping names which animate his anecdotes, but these people are meaningless to me. Who are they? It’s a list of notorious drunks who were all celebrated at some point for being, “such fun.”

James Farnham is now both spiritually and physically redundant, he does little more than consume in order to maintain a veneer of usefulness. He looks like something that might have knocked up Ronald McDonald’s mother at a traveling fair back in the 1960’s. Beneath his rubber mask and bright orange wig, his thinning hair is dyed sandy brown. As he removes the mask and the wig to drink his coffee, I cannot help wondering where the wig ends and his hair begins. He likes people looking at him. He absorbs attention along with everything else.

Jan 19, 2014

Jan 11, 2014

Not photoshopped

Downtown Los Angeles

Yesterday ---- Part I: We must buy condoms today

Not the Green Eyes, folks. Instead a visit of friends from Australia in early November 2013. This is Part I of a short story of three parts. Enjoy:

No, it wasn’t yesterday, it was three days ago that Josh and Jason arrived in Cannes. We had to pick them up at the train station---a semi-lit location with password-protected toilets tucked away under an ugly overpass that divides the town into two. The announcement screen goes dit-dit-duuh-dit (d#--g--g#--d#), the TGV noses into the station, I wonder briefly what would happen if I lose my balance and hit the tracks, but Josh and Jason pour out of the sliding train doors in front of us just in time.

Josh hasn’t changed at all since his last visit. Jason I never met before, but he gets chatty immediately, it feels like a conversation left dangling an hour ago.

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