Tiger Man

Read This in Black and White

Boarded the bus on a crisp winter day as the sun was setting on 2006. "Bangkok", I told the driver and he nodded approvingly, or disapprovingly perhaps. As I settled into my seat and looked out my window I sighed and thought to myself, "Another weekend, God only knows what this one has in store for me."
As the bus door opened on the Southern bus terminal I shuddered at the scene outside. Everything was normal. Restaurants selling cheap noodles, vendors hawking watches that were only as real as you believe they are, and me. A shadow of a man blending into the crowd like Liberace at the Republican National Convention. I met my associates there, my partners in travel, my entourage in excursion. My friends if you want to get sappy about it. But I don't.
Another bus. Everyone the same. A kareoke machine that never gets sung on and the sad lonely singer projected onto the screen alone. No one to join him in his cheesy verses that scroll along the bottom of the monitor. "A tragedy", I say under my breath. But no one hears. Another Bus.
The next morning we rise early. Drinking coffee and eating banana pancakes is the only way to get my associates to speak to eachother. Saturday, and we have business to take care of. We hail a Songtow and hop in. The Songtow is a pick-up truck with a roof and benches that face eachother. As the sun beats down and a gentle breeze blows through my hair I examine the life I chose, or rather the life that chose me.
Time to work. Some driplets of sweat form on my brow as I climb. But they don't last long. Plunging into the pool all memory of buses and crowds disapear and all I hear is the waterfall dropping the life giving liquid above my head. I swim and play seriously, intensely. This was my weekend and it was time to work.

Camping. Shooting stars. A little whiskey and a lot of laughs.

Another early morning because it's sunday and time is experience. Our songtow returns and we climb in headed for a known destination with unknown contents.
"Hand your camera to the tiger boy and never walk in front of the tiger. Keep your hand on the tiger at all times." Said the man wrapped in a orange sheet. He is barefoot and calm. Even though we have no idea who this man is the lurking beasts seem to know and that is good enough for me. It has to be. Walking slowly but surely next to this cat is a surreal feeling. His fur his soft and smooth but underneath his muscles are iron. Although he steps softly his feet land heavy on the ground under the weight of his dominent physique. He fears no man. He has been offered the chance to live with them peacefully and so far that seems to be the decision he has chosen.
The bus home. It's dark I close my eyes in an attempt to catch up on the sleep I had denied myself. Before I journey out of the concious I think briefly about the best way to blog about my weekend. "Film Noir style wouldn't work at all," I thought to myself. "It just wouldn't."

Mind your Manners

keng means strong
nam means water
nam keng means ice water
keng keng means orgasm