“It’s full of bacteria” he spat. “Look, there’s rats shitting on the floor, and flies landing on the rat poop, and then the flies are landing on the meat!” He looked outraged. “You take two mouthfuls of that curry, and you’ll be shitting through a straw for a week…”

All my stuff is on the floor. I need a cupboard, I think to myself. I’m not going to be here forever. I don’t want to buy a cupboard. Owning cupboards makes me feel anxious. Things can metastasize. Once you own a cupboard, the next thing you know you got a broom, and a microwave as well. It’s a slippery slope. Buy a cupboard on Tuesday, you could have a five piece lounge suite and an SUV sunday afternoon.

I go into the 7/11 for a ‘Top Ten’ (it’s frozen dairy facsimile). As I step out, freezing my brain with the Top Ten, I see the pile of abandoned furniture by the door. Neatly folded and stacked cupboards, free to anyone. I pick out half a dozen sturdy looking ones, with nice colour schemes. Gilberts Whiskey, some random soap, and Lays Potato Chips.
Onto the scooter with my flat packed furniture clamped between my legs. Back to the room, bit of creative folding, bit of strategic gaffa taping…
I got cupboard. Cost me nothing, and it was a lot easier to put together than IKEA.
Plus, if I want to do stunts in my room, I can safely do pratfalls into my furniture.

Friday night. I’m celebrating by hunching over my computer and hammering.
Alexis shows up randomly. I love being distracted when I’m working. The best thing about friends is they offer opportunities to escape work.
We ride out to edge of the city, where the roads get steep and dusty. There’s a leafy hillside. A quiet, gloomy lane, scattered with simple wooden houses, decorated with prayer flags, murals and draped fabrics.
It’s a hand woven, tie dyed enclave of Chiang Mai’s expat world. An enclave within a diaspora. Refugees from the ‘West’.
The guitars and uke’s and mandolins emerge. For the fifth time in a week I’m jamming with new friends. I play long, wavering, soprano notes that carry out across the cool darkness from the wooden porch and think to myself ‘this is why, I love Chiang Mai’.

I wash my undies. I wash all my laundry actually. I hang it up in the sun and it dries in the breeze, and it smells like leaves and sunshine.
I don’t want to carry cloths pegs around. They’re heavy. I just have my 10 metre length of brickies line (thin synthetic cord). There’s an ingenious way to stop your stuff blowing on the ground if you don’t have cloths pegs.
You tie the cord, around two trees, or veranda posts or whatever. The cord makes two parallel lines beside each other, but a few inches apart. You pull the cord very taut. Then, when you hang each item of clothing, you twist it between the two parallel cords, flip it over a few times, and… sorted. Now the wind can blow all it wants, your undies won’t wind up in the dirt.

Jamming with Binkey and the rest of the crew at Northgate Jazz Co-Op the other night was the highlight of the week. I’ve missed the Chiang Mai music scene. It’s good to be here again.

Sunday: jam at Roadhouse Bar.
Monday: jam night at Boy Blues Bar.
Tuesday: jam at Northgate.
Jam slut heaven.

Binkey is a vocalist. A singer, beat boxer, and MC.
Binkey plus a shit hot bass player, lead guitarist, keyboard, drums, and me on harmonicas…
Camp fire jams are awesome, busking is awesome, getting to play indoors with a PA sometimes is such a freakin’ treat. And these guys are so good. I love you all gentlemen. Playing with you is bliss. See you Tuesday.

This picture is for you Craig.
When we were in Whytaliba, Craig and I went dumpster diving in Glen Innes quite a bit. On a friday night, we found a massive box of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups in the bin behind the Reject Shop.
We ate about ten to fifteen a day, each for the following two weeks, as well as handing them around to all our stoner friends. We bought a lot of stoner friends with those Peanut Butter Cups.
We made cocoa out of them. We had them for breakfast. I had a bit of a cough for a few nights. I’d wake up in the night coughing, stuff a handful of Peanut Butter Cups into my mouth, and go back to sleep, sputtering but pacified.
I haven’t been able to eat anything wrapped in orange plastic since that fortnight.

There are much healthier eating habits in the kitchen of my guesthouse.

Some lady boys in Chiang Mai really dress up, even to go shopping.

Tiliquinol really plugs you up if you’re butt is a bit leaky. This is really good stuff to have in your bag in Thailand.
Makes me think of this old white guy I met in a bar here ten years ago. He asked me if I liked Thai food. I told him, yes, I did.
“It’s full of bacteria” he spat. “Look, there’s rats shitting on the floor, and flies landing on the rat poop, and then the flies are landing on the meat!” He looked outraged. “You take two mouthfuls of that curry, and you’ll be shitting through a straw for a week”.
I smiled nervously and slurped my delicious soup.
“I’ll give you some good travel advice” the old guy hissed at me, leaning closer, confidentially. “Never trust a fart in Thailand’.

 
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