This is the first time I’ve seen a tuk-tuk offered for sale in America. The utility of such transportation is limited by the seasons here. Still, the very fact of seeing one is like writing on the wall. It is well-covered elsewhere the way America is designed so people cannot shop, commute or even get to a hospital without some type of motorcar. Worse, this process has been going on since the car was invented. People will drive a gas-guzzler to the shopping mall five miles away to “save” on their groceries. There will be hell to pay for this mentality.Take a closer look at this motorbike. Can you see the left-hand gear shift stick beside the drivers seat? There is a right-foot brake pedal on the floor. I looked at the odometer reading 272 miles, which made me wonder why this vehicle was so banged up. Lots of dents and scratches. The back seat would fit one mildly fat American or two very small children. Something else to consider is the narrow straddle. This makes it easy to tip over in the wretched state of Florida’s roadways and the small tires are a convenient fit for your average pothole around here.
By happenstance, the name of the hotel I [usually] stayed at in Bangkok was called the “Miami”. This is the same hotel Tony Wheeler reviews in “Lonely Planet” with the goofy signs telling Australians not to dive out of the third storey balconies. It only makes sense if you know the hotel has a swimming pool below those balconies and that drunk Ozzies will do anything for attention. Come to think of it, are there any other kind of Ozzies? Normally my stay in Bangkok was short, as I was usually on my way to the Thai South Western Coast, which faces the Indian Ocean.
Bangkok is called the Venice of the East because it is built on a low coastal plain. The tiniest rise in ocean level makes the streets flood. There is no adequate sewer system and you can get around on barges and ferries. My hotel was on Sukhumvit Road, a major thoroughfare that is one-way without any clearly defined return route. Yes, I was a few miles from Pat Pong Road, but I’ve only been there once or twice. Both times with German friends who wanted to see the place (I already had a local gal, Tomoon Don). Pat Pong is the tourist sex Mecca with all the butterfly bars. It has its attractions for men who like prostitutes. I do not.
Take my advice and get out of Bangkok fast. A bus or plane to the southern panhandle puts you in a different world, although that world is already largely gone. They built a Club Med at Phuket, totally wrecking the character of that island paradise. Go anyway, as anything is better than smelly Bangkok and the thousands of men all ready to pay for sex. Mostly, you will see Arabs who are forbidden any form of vice in their own countries, but instantly ignore any Islamic fundamentalism soon as they become anonymous. They hang around the hotel lobbies all day in their pajamas and do unspeakable things all night.
There are also hordes of German men. At least they are highly skilled, speak English and have a semblance of manners. Be prepared for crazy Australians. No manners, no brains and the morality of bastard-rats. To break it down, out of every 1,000 tourists you see, 990 will be Arabs, Germans or Australians. However, the sheer size of the industry means you will still meet plenty of other types. Out in the countryside I even met white women who were not my type, mind you. But Bangkok is no place for ordinary people.
If I ever go back to Thailand, it will be mostly to see what has changed. I remember it like y’day and I know it isn’t dreamland any more. The sex trade economy makes it difficult to get anything else done. Sadly, I see parallels in America, where the willingness of weak-minded men to pay for a thrill quickly makes gold-diggers out of all the decent looking women. These frustrated men don’t realize they are just making it worse for themselves and you certainly can’t blame the women for succumbing. You can’t, but I do, for you see, I’ve met enough women in my life who are not like that to think they all are. But that is another story. Sigh.
Arnel was over to pick up software. Jim invited us to dinner but I had just finished a huge meal. I prefer they tell me the decisions later. Chances are we’ll be meeting up on Saturday to jam live. (Teresa says she has a great video of last week where we had the crowd dancing in the aisles.) I ran over what tunes I’ve got with Arnel and there is no doubt my new show has his musical influence stamped all over it. Again, I admire a true entertainer, and damn, they are in short supply around here. The previous person who had such impact on my show was Gordie. Let me check if it has been 15 years. Yes. Gordie Walker.
He was the rising star of California, a lead player for Roy Orbison. I’ll repeat some facts about Gordie. He was Mr. Stage Show. They had him slated to be the next king of guitar. His stage personality was far too expansive to remain somebody’s flunky. He never told anybody what changed his mind, but one day he packed his stuff and left Los Angeles, never to return. He drove to near the Canadian border and married a gal who was supervisor of a Dairy Queen. He plays only skid-road bars and VFWs, where his show is so fantastic 99% of the barflies don’t have the attention span to appreciate it. Pearls before swine but you never met a happier musician.
Gordie bought a house on the north side and as far as I know, Robyn and I were the only non-family ever invited to visit. I should re-contact him one day. I still draw a lot of my stage moves from his show. He was so far above the rest that he created a vacuum. One thing we shared was a rare talent for playing music the way people remember it, rather than the way it goes. It drives the crowd wild but in another case of pearls and swine, is impossible to demonstrate how that works to most guitarists with their “follow me” attitude. They can’t hear it.
Good performers are a far better set than the prima donna perfectionist types who never amount to much. Like myself, performers are team players who do not afford vocalists or guitarists any special status. The good news for today is my expenses have fallen to 18.1% of my income. You can’t do that driving twenty miles to the next county. If you don’t evolve, you become extinct. Wait, there is more good news. In two months I will have had a steady house gig for two years.
[Author’s note: That’s two years, and I’d like to shake that fact under the nose of any big shots out there. If you are so damn good, where is your following? When’s the last time anybody invited you back? When we walked in the door of all those places you said were your greatest gigs, how come nobody knew your name or even looked up? There are more questions where those came from.]
