This stink bugs got good defenses. Its the size of a large cockroach and crawls to my bed. I hit it away and my hand reeks. It lays on its back meters away playing dead. Genius bug.
Surfed in Cambodia. The man selling the the rented boards was burnt from 30 years of weed, easy living and his attempt at recolonizing Cambodia with his half built Balsa wood shack. I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.
8 bucks an hour for a board. Overcast glass 1-2 foot. riding a paddle-pop shaped 7″ mini-mal. Worth every cent.
Strollers took watched on as my chicken legs wobbled along the deck, feet glued by 43 years worth of waxy buildup, towards the shore on the glossy dribbling waves. Once, I got all the way there, jumped off the break onto the sand a meter from a dude and said:”OwsigoinMot!!!” before leaping back into the grey glass. He strolled on and I watched the memory of that strange sun burnt Australian fade from him as the waves broke over my head.
When i sat in the surf getting baked in my ripped long sleeve shirt with the giant reflective piece of fiberglass foam tanning the underside of my chin I thought about some people…
Sinsinati and her BF, working here for 4 months, recently fired from my hostel, waiting for a tax return from Aus so they can move on living on $5 a day between them. Sinsinati hit me up for cash I owed them from trivia last week. I didn’t owe them a thing. Some Kiwi girl covered my bill for a handful of cigarettes. They sat there, blazed, eating a pizza.
Tom the German. He is German. He looks like he’s from Berlin. Marilyn Manson is his god. Joey from Slipknot , his lover. Effeminate and married. Forever angry in tone. Wretched endless tales of his history in event management, the screws he worked for and the people around the beach fucking up a good thing. He has a record label in PP and he manages the dorm and bar I live in. The dorm where I woke to find a dissected rat next to my pillow.
The Owner. Max. 43, American, Mo-hawked. Upon introducing himself to me he launched into a story about 4 attempts on his life in the past 3 weeks. Three of these men were now in Jail and one fled, never to be seen again. The plot of a Hispanic Jew, Dutch Banker and Underworld figure from Colombia to overthrow his business. He’s writing three books about the whole ideal. He’s writing another coffee table book about his abundance of crotch tattoos. As he rolled out this tale over a game of 8 ball he smoked a joint with the diameter of your regular thumb.
Then there was Dennis who was not really lost at all. He was on Holiday. He was from Melbourne. He was at the bar and did not know a soul. Dennis was not afraid to break the ice. And so Denis did tell us with a descriptive tale of how he shat his pants whilst trying to bed a girl.
“I trusted the fart”
“Never trust a fart in Asia mang!”I called
I too had shat my pants in Asia before, though I never talked about it in bars with strange people I don’t know. Only on the internet.
So we laughed. With and at the bearded Dennis who looked like Hipster Jesus on Holiday.
He then offered everyone in the bar Ketamine, which we declined because Cambodia is not a place to be on tranquilizers. I was tempted though. I felt i could trust a man who shared so openly the cacking of his dacks. Later we played some pool and he got very angry with me when i told him that his ‘Tin-TIn in Cambodge’ shirt was a fake, the art not authentic at all and that the character was very racist in his early years.
I realized later I was a lot like Dennis.
Then the night was over.
And here I am. Toasted from sun and listening to the frogs The bullfrogs. Everyone admires their pneumatic drill like mating calls, Like a slowed cows moo mixed in 5.1 surround played all around you from dusk till dawn.
I lied when I said people admired these sounds. The don’t really like them at all. Only I seem to like them. Me. I like them a lot.
So i sit and I wonder about them some more. Swatting mosquitoes onto my sandy mattress. The Californian I met the other day was just starting a job, he had just arrived. The girl whose job he had taken was leaving. The job didn’t challenge her.
The Californian just wanted to look at the ocean. Tom is trying to build a record label. Sinsinati and partner are trying to extend their travels as far as then can go on a shoestring whilst being perma-baked. Dennis is on the Asian experience. French guy is building his “Morning of the Earth”
I am leaving.
The bug is gone, tired of playing dead in plain sight.
I am going home.