It comes with the pulse of the cardiac, regular, beep
Light now for me is preferred …Night. One Night in Bangkok and his name was Samran….
We now share the Night, together, till the morning, when we walk in different directions…the comfort of the Night to hold, one another…..a gift acknowledged..
So often the Teacher becomes the Student, I think it has been a large part of our journey..
I am fortunate to know writers, men and wimmin, who carve words into the most beautiful forms of prose…there are other writers, men and wimmin, whom I do not know…the Australian Literary Landscape is peppered with these people…as a septuagenerian it is far more accessible for me to name our Elders…There is a Litany, that for me dates back to the 970’s….I never caught the Frank Morehouse, the David Marr, the David Malouf, the Pat White, and even more recently, the Benny Law, Zeitgeist Wunder Kid, Ominbus…
There is this consistent mantra of writing is private , a solitary pursuit, a self indulgent ooze that calms the troubled cerebellum of all of those creativity crazies who inflict their words upon us, the digital and the non digital…Fuck you, words are not print nor are they digital, they are limited expressions that come not from ink, but from the cardio vessels connected to the outrageous injustice that we see daily…
So glad I was able to cough that emotional/psycholgical/literal/ words/existentiadotcom
He stood tall, those 30 something years ago…blue and white striped shirt, a mop of fair hair fell across his forehead, blue eyes, wide, shut, open..
An artist some twenty summers old…and now a waitress in a cocktail bar. It was the most swift introduction of my lifetime….then approaching 40 summers..
We drove to the coast along The Great Ocean Road, we booked a trip to Italy…the pace was frantic, doomed to burn out…
We remained friends but was never really comfortable for me, and surprisingly some 30 years later we met in the digital dance of Face Book, his final line when he unfriended me always brings a smile to my face ..
‘Oh ,still Mr Serious’
For the first 10 years of my life I had my own bedroom, I was an only child in a Melbourne Suburb. For the next 6 years I shared a bedroom with my new younger brother. For the next 2 years I lived in a Junior Seminary where 50 of us slept in a dormitory. The following year I had my own room/cell as a Novice in an Italian Religious Order founded in Australia but Irish Missionaries. The next two years, almost, I had my own cell in Ballarat, Melbourne, in a 19th Century Bluestone Building. I then returned home to share once again with my younger brother for two years.
Our parents could see that they needed an extra bedroom and decided to sell the house they had bought in suburban Murrumbeena in 1946. They used spend Sundays inspecting display homes in outer Melbourne suburbs. They settled on a three bedroom neo colonial modest home on a small block in Mulgrave. We moved in 1968. By 1970 I had left home and found a room in the house of a Melbourne Academic from The Conservatorium of Music, Meredith Moon. It was a brief stay in Hartwell when I found a room for rent with toilet and bathroom in Armadale for ten dollars a week.
It was a few months later that I moved into my first flat alone, it was also in Armadale, and 17 dollars a week in an Art Deco Block of four flats.
As the bedroom journey continued it went from shared houses, apartments and finally alone again in a suburban flat.
The Journey Continues..
Light falls upon my face draped with scarf and beard.Saffron robed young men at Chiangmai Buddhist University..The food vendor on the streets of BangkokThe woman who gave me birth 1945..The young man who changed my life..My friend Rossini…Emeritus Professor Norman Page, BangkokBeryl Baroness of East Malvern, my 92 year old aunt..My Mother In Law, Mer Tui..My friend Peter Grace at Anantisila Resort, Hua Hin Thailand..My friend Tracey from New York on The Chao Phraya River, Bangkok..My friend Anthony Green, Prahran, MelbourneMy friends Azzerina and Blotto @ Mali Restaurant Bangkok…The lil brother on the left avec the older brother Elwood
I have wanted to write about this April Evening for some time..
Balcony Bar Bangkok, once owned by Molly Meldrum…I had been there once or twice. I had arrived in Bangkok early on a flight from Melbourne after burying my 86 year old father. I always stayed at Opera Hotel in Pratunam in Bangkok. At the time I was living in a Bungalow on the beach in Hua Hin on the Gulf of Thailand, a peaceful place which I still hold close to my heart.
It was around 8.00pm and having slept for many hours woke up with a massive appetite for food. I did not know of many places to eat, strange considering I was in Bangkok. I knew of Balcony Bar and that they served food. Hung over I made my way into the Bar, I just wanted some food. I went to the bar and ordered a drink, all in Thai. I had been in The Kingdom for almost 5 years and had a reasonable grip on the Lingo to get me through the day. It seemed only a short time before I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked around to see a young Thai man. We greeted one another in Thai. He held a glass of beer in his hand and I recall he was wearing a bright red T Shirt. All in my primitive Thai, asked him if he would like to join me at a table as I needed to eat. We sat together and I asked him what he wanted to drink as I was ordering a Red Wine, and he was happy to have a Coke…I think the beer in his hand was some kind of security blanket for him in retrospect..I had difficulty in getting his name right and am sure made many mistakes initially…
It is now almost 12 years since Samran and I have been together, like all journeys, it has had an up and down rhythm. I am thankful each day for the kindness, the care and the laughter that we have shared thus far…he has enriched my life, taught me many things, I have become part of his family.
Never look for love, it creeps up when you are least prepared to engage with such a concept..
Na Mo Ta Sa Pa Ka Wa Tor