Monday, January 29, 2007

Pat is off the Golf Course and Into the Temple


The enlightened glow comes after a very long process ripe with baptism and a sense of rebirth. Buddhism is 2550 years old and its traditions are still being kept alive here in the Kingdom of Thailand. It is a wonderful tradition for men, who wish to announce to their family and their community that they are ready to take on more responsibility or that they are ready for drastic change in there life, to become a monk for a short time. Some young men stay in the temple for a couple of weeks, others a few days, some as long as 6 months or even 1 year. It is a pause button for life. While they are monks they are not allowed to make money, eat after lunch, touch a woman, kill even an insect, and well another 200 + rules that I don’t have time to list for you, especially since even the monks I asked struggled to get more than 30 of them.

I am going to let the photos do most of the communicating here, but for Western people I’d like you to think about this. Monks live in peace and exist outside the commercial world all together. They are provided with time to truly meditate and ponder things the modern man has lost tack of as these moments of self indulgence are seen by Western people as idleness and unworthy because, after all, it produces no income.

Not going to preach, but understand the water symbolism a bit. It is of course the washing away of sins and past mistakes. The monk will have all of his hair shaved from his head, he will be washed, and then he will wash the feet of his parents who are responsible for bringing him into this world. It is a ceremony devoted to honoring parents.

Last note I promise. Buddha is not a God. He was a teacher who found enlightenment and offers his philosophies as to how this peace of mind could be reached. 2550 years of influences on the religion has not corrupted its simple focus on self development, respect for nature and others, and attempting to live in the now rather than get lost in past or future.

By the way the man becoming a monk here is my close friend Pat, a great golfer, a fabulous friend, and now a guy trying to become a better man. He will be in the temple for 15 days. I'm putting all the photos down bellow, enjoy.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Farang Eyes

Hey Farang

You know living in a foreign country, especially perhaps in Asia, one finds themselves unmistakably noticed and even at times gawked at. Thai people, especially those who have little on their work agenda for the day, often observe others around them. Farang (white foreigners) are a prime target for this scrutiny as we are an odd lot indeed. I never really expected different since I am new to their land, I was prepared for the idea that I would be unusual and therefore an attraction for people’s attention.

What I did not expect was that somehow coming to Thailand there is a magnetic pole reversal inserted in the eyes of all people here. Allow me to explain my metaphor. You see, Thai eyes seem drawn to watch me with such gravity that even when they try their best those pupils just track me down through their squinty eyelids as they offer their shy smile. It is endearing really and far from intrusive most of the time. But the Farang have somehow had implanted within their eyes a repulsive opposite magnetism that forces their eyes to look anywhere else but at another white person. It is entertaining to watch two of them pass on the streets of Bangkok or in a mall in Bangkok, because both of them are so determined not to see the other that they come dangerously close to colliding as their wandering vision roams far left and then far right and way past and perhaps even a glance behind for good measure. Some of them nearly snap their necks with all their whiplash glances.

So why don’t Farang want to see each other in the Kingdom of Smiles? Afraid of something maybe? Guilty of something perhaps? Have an ulterior motive for leaving the homeland such as a gambling debt or best friend’s girlfriend you knocked up? I wonder when I see them and especially when they won’t look at me. I have gone on a bit of a campaign to test this oddity and now if I see a Farang on the street while I’m walking about I am not just making eye contact I’m giving them DAPS. If they don’t respond I’m making a mental note, a visual memo, because tipping off the authorities to someone on the FBI’s most wanted list is a lucrative part time job.

“What are DAPS?” my Asian friends will ask.

Daps is something I first observed while hanging out with my good friend Freddy Dee back in my Aurora teaching days. One day Freddy and I went to the Cherry Creek Mall to do a bit of shopping. I don’t like shopping in American malls, but let me stay focused on the lesson here. I’ll complain about the quicksand of American shopping on another day. So Freddy and I were strolling along chatting about sports or girls or something when a young black man walked by us.
Freddy nodded at him and mumbled, “What’s up?” To which the young man answered, “Sup,” and nodded back.
“What was that? Did you know that guy?”
“No.”
“So why did you talk to him and not the other hundred dudes we’ve walked past?”
Freddy dropped his hand on shoulder. “Look around man. I don’t know him, but I know how he feels.”
“How he feels?”
“Do you see any other African Americans in this mall today?”
I looked around a little. “No.”
“So he and I have that in common. I don’t know what else. I ain’t going to loan him money or anything, but I can give him DAPS.”

So my question Farang is where is my DAPS? This is not our country; we all feel the eyes of the Thais upon us. But why can’t we look each other in the eyes and say, “How you doin’? or What’s up?”

Well all I can say is when someone can’t look me in the eye as they’re walking past, I’ll be watching my back once they are past.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Computer Virus

Computer virus. What an apt term, what a superb metaphor for the things which corrupt our computers to the point where they go from being bogged down with the triviality of their functions until they are completely shut down with crippling technological disease. When my friend Mod arrived to save my laptops life he quickly keyed in a few commands and then, smiling widely as if he was a doctor looking under a beautiful woman’s shirt, announced to me: “Just over 2000 viruses found. Really a miracle the thing still turns on at all.”
I once lost a friend because they received an email from me, which of course wasn’t from me, but it had been sent from my email address somehow. He opened the file expecting news from Thailand and got instead ‘BOOM you’re computer is now infected.’ Now at the time when this happened I thought he was very irrational and over reacting to this. I mean come on, I didn’t send it and just because some one hacked me and it went to him in my name why would he be so upset with me? Now, not that I have anyone to blame, but I can better feel the rage.
So as I am lucky enough to have a friend like Mod to come and fix my sick laptop and now I can once again attempt to get back to the business of writing, blogging, and so forth.
My next project will to be to find an agent for my YA fantasy piece called THOSE WHO HEAR. This one is difficult to write a query for because it is such a unique idea. I must take my time to explain the concept of Astropaths and the plot of my story to the editor, while staying within the 1 page limit everyone tells you to use in a query. This story is the one everyone I share it with say, “This is your best work,” but it is also the one I’ve never been able to get read by any agents. It is time to challenge myself to try again.
By the way an ASTROPATH is a person who has a telepathically advanced mind and who can, because of their advanced mental capacity, transport themselves to any location – similar to transcendental meditation.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Bangkok Strays

Stray Dogs are a constant presence in the city of Bangkok. They not only exist within their own reality – an undisturbed continuation in which they saunter along, sleep, or simply sit in domicile somnolence, but for me they represent an idyllic symbol for the city and it’s unique culture.

“What is going on with all the dogs? The stray dogs?” my new friend from China asked me. She was visiting on a break-neck trip in which she got to see Bangkok for a couple days and the beach for 4 days. "We don't have stray anything in China."

It really was something that struck me as well when I first arrived, but over time you become acclimated to their presence and forgetful about them. Thai strays are much like Thai people, they almost never confront anyone. To confront is to create a problem and for a stray dog this could mean serious trouble as they have no power or economic purpose. Thai people also try to stay low key most of the time. It is not their way to draw a lot of attention to themselves, even good attention can make them feel uncomfortable because they are trained as very young children that getting along, the middle path, and being equal to but not better than their peers is a preferred way to live. After all, the only way for someone who is on top of the world to go is down. Pride can only bring other people’s scrutiny and this can, without a doubt, bring about critical judgment.

The stray dogs have a place here as all of us strays do. This is a city of wayward souls. So many tourists, Xpat workers like me, migrant workers, and immigrants come to the Kingdom of Thailand in search of a new life or a better chance to make something happen. But these dogs are not foreign, well their roots go way back – Africa I was told once, but they have been here so long that they are as Thai as any temple or canal. They are nearly always peaceful, but when starving they will fight. They stare out at the world with curious eyes searching for nothing – something – unknown. They are as ever-present here as the generations of people who lived here before – ghosts traveling among us and for the most part unseen. But their eyes never leave us.

Monday, January 8, 2007

Question Answered

I absolutely, vehemently loath people who answer their own question, by giving their fervent opinion of the subject matter, before they ask it. Don't you agree?

New Years Countdown in Bangkok 3-2-1 BOOM

Bombs! Well New Years Eve is supposed to be the bomb, but in Bangkok this year it was more like the lingering rumors of and occasional actual reports of bombs being set off around the city, put everyone in a hushed and somber mood.

I met my usual celebratory crew at a fine outdoor restaurant north of down town. The place was really filling up in the early evening. It was the typical Bangkok joint, an outdoor patio surrounding a pool where lights blink and play within a blue water pool. One giant screen is set in the corner and of course English football is on the screen. Manchester United against someone who is going to lose.

Our waitresses were in high spirits, anticipating big tips and a fun night of stupid customer watching. Our main server, in Thailand you usually have about 4, was a girl named Jai (which means heart) in Thai.

Sukhum and his wife Eat, my girl Nan and I were the first to arrive. We'd ordered the usually stuff, spicy shrimp, Sum Thum, grilled chicken, some spicy beef with some fresh peppers smeared across it. Now if you think of Mexican food as spicy, stay out of Thailand because that stuff is just sour. Thai food is brow beading, tongue burning, HOT MAN. I love it, and it has a great deal to do with why I chose Thailand to set up my new life.

Then Pat and Poom arrived, but they would be the last of a much longer list of friends who were supposed to show up. All our phones, in Thailand everyone has a mobile phone and I can't remember the last person I met with a land-line, land-line is a cool retronym by the way. I'll explain retronyms on another day. A fun game for English nerds to play is the retronym battle. Not today.

So all our phones kind of erupted at once. "What the hell was going on?" Sukhum's face, already white from his Chinese heritage, dropped a shade lighter as he set down his phone. "Bombs. At least 3 have gone off already."
"Where?"
"Seacon Square, victory monument, and some down town place, like Sogo," he said.
I could feel my stomach tighten and my spirits drop. I instantly thought back to my day in America some six years ago when I watched, along with a class full of my students, as the second plane collided with the World Trade Center. I knew that day that it meant war, but worse than that I knew that the generation who was seated all around me were going to be the ones to pay with their blood.
"Yeah, something like 7 have gone off," Poom added.
We spent the next half hour calling everyone close to us. Our food kept arriving, but our appetites were diminished and much of the food sat unattended for a while. We had a couple of bottles of wine and that went quickly!
Everyone I spoke to sounded confused, especially those watching BBC news or CNN news, as they were reporting the Thai government was setting off their own bombs. Bizarre stuff, rumors, things of political and of course Islamic references were bouncing back and forth insanely.
"What next?" I said, not helping the levity of our little group. I hate that about myself, but maybe its my age, and having watched for some 39 years of this kind of thing, but little bombs attacking poor bus commuters is just a message. It's like saying, 'we are not being heard but we're about to be.' And, when no one cares because it was 3 poor people who died and they don't get the response they desired, WHAT NEXT?
I saw the bomb attacks build in America. This scare, that explosion but few lives lost, until finally they brought the entire world to a stop with the fall of the World Trade Centers.
We began to relax. Maybe it was the wine, because Pat quickly ordered us a 3rd bottle and we guzzled it down as well. We debated forgetting about going out to some night club for the countdown. Then, when another group of our friends said they would be at a night club not far away from us, we decided to go for it. At the time no one had died yet from the bombs, as I said 3 would be announced later.
"Small bombs at bus stops, they aren't trying to kill influential people or people with money. Let's go ahead and go," my friend Year had proclaimed over the phone.
I know I really should describe all my friends for anyone who might be reading this, but in truth I feel to lazy to do that at this moment. Perhaps I need to do a bit of writing first and then one day I'll do a little roll call of those in my life. That would be easy enough. I don't actually think anyone is reading this anyway.

We did go to a club, but only about 10 of the 25 or so people we thought would be meeting there actually showed up. We drank a little, danced a little, well Nan and I always dance. Nan is a great dancer and I love to watch her dance so I just go out there and try my best.

There was a gloom to our merriment. There was a sense of graveness hanging just outside the doors of the club or was it in the bathroom stalls or was it waiting in the streets on our car journey home. No matter how much we teased each other, joked, drank, or danced in the end our spirits just couldn't hold the fantasy that this was just another New Years Eve.

"Hey its 2007, well, let's go home," Sukhum said only thirty or so minutes after the turning of the year.

"Agreed!"

Home and in bed by two.

Blog Beginnings

So, I guess I will begin with where it all began. Not the alpha of all things, just my thing. I have been, at least since the second grade when my teacher started yelling at me about daydreaming all the time and being lazy, announcing to the world that someday I'll be a writer. I had some early luck actually, publishing a book 10 years ago titled NOTES FROM MANHATTAN which is available on AMAZON.COM and if you have any interest in seeing a young struggling writer's work please check it out.
Now I taught creative writing for 9 years at Gateway High School in Aurora Colorado. I loved it! Working with students who had a basically negative attitude about school, learning, and their upcoming adult middle class existance, my class - known as the Siminoe Coffee House - was a place for students to express, write, rhyme, film, or well, just about anything they had a mind to create. I really put my soul into the class and into keeping it free for the students. So many of them inspired me! So many of them were everything I wished I could be.
As a teacher I made very little money and since I was divorced I found myself needing a lot of cash to take care of things. I worked a side job, not exactly legal, but suffice it to say I worked in the sports accounting field for a few years and saved up every penny I could squeeze from it in order to stage not only an escape from my life, but a rebirth of sorts.
I loved my teaching, but students came and went and my ideas were becoming stagnant and I was not improving my teaching I was rehashing it. I also failed to answer my students' questions about "What have you written lately, Mr. Siminoe?" because I was embarassed to say my creativity was being drained by writing their prompts and grading and proofing their work. I was not writing anymore. Between the sports and the teaching I had very little left.
A journey to visit my former student MOD in Thailand would give me the beginnings of a plan. I needed, as Hemingway had needed or Henry Miller, to travel and to depart native lands for new experiences and FIND MY VOICE AGAIN!
I moved to Thailand 5 years ago, leaving everything in the states behind in my quest to write again. It didn't go well at first. I tried to start a business so I could have income while writing, but the business failed misserably and now I am a foreigner, broke, and in truth unable to go back to the USA where the cost of living makes it impossible to be an artist. I live here for next to nothing. My appartment is $200 a month. I eat light. I try to live cheap. I need to do what I can to give my writing another chance!
Things are looking up now. I teach again, but a less hectic schedule at SATIT KASET INTERNATIONAL PROGRAM has allowed me to write. I enjoy my new teaching with small classes and fairly light course loads.
I have finished 3 novels in the past 2 years. I am happy just to write them really. However, I am fortunate to announce that my pet project, a book I poored my heart into as it was about my father and his passing from cancer, has found a publisher. Bangkok Book House will be publishing the novel in 2007. Actually I am just signing the contract today and mailing it back to them. I plan to journal a great deal about this experience. Publishing my first book was sort of no big deal because it was a comedy and really just for fun.
ECHO POOL is the name of my new novel and I am very proud of the work. Many of my friends from the past and present are depicted in the novel; however, the names and such have been changed to protect all of us despite our lack of innocence. My father is the true hero of the piece as he was the true hero in my life. Losing him to cancer nearly 6 years ago has affected me in ways I could not have imagined. It is so simple to say we don't know what we have or what someone is until we lose them, and yet as simple as it is it doesn't change the fact that it is in loss that we find.
I will post some excerpts from the novel. I also will toss up a few short stories about my adopted home, the Kingdom of Thailand. In general life here is relaxed, beautiful, warm, and easy. But there is drama beneath the surface of these smiling people and I intent to write about it and show everything I can. Things I have explored, wondered about, and learned.
I would love to have people check out NOTES FROM MANHATTAN on AMAZON, but I must say the story is comedy and I really don't do that kind of writing any longer. Still, if you want to support a starving artist, toss down a couple bucks and buy a copy of Notes. I promise you'll get a few laughs out of it if nothing else.