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Ong-Bak
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
- Hits: 697
Movie night, watched "Ong-Bak" - Thai martial arts film about a villager sent to retrieve a stolen Buddha's head.
Largely "Meh", although with good fight scenes - but - overall could have missed it.
That said, the depiction of the ex-pats - English, Australian, Americans & other - living in Bangkok - was rather illuminating. Exactly what you'd expect, if you thought about it, only I'd never thought about it and so was intrigued to see it depicted from a local perspective.
Which made me question if I'd ever want to visit Thailand - I mean - given all the Westerners that have gone before - and the reputation they've blazed - maybe find a different holiday destination...but - where in the world have we not stained our reputation?
Garage Sales & Herkimer Diamonds
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1277
I'm on my way to a garage sale in Nelson-not-Nelson. It's Nelson, but it's somewhere else, I'm not sure, a combination of Hampstead & Portabello Road in London, every grown in-attractive neighborhood I've ever visited...
The garage sale, I'd followed the sign and parked, but I'd already been to this one, it's been picked over, still, rummage again through a few bins, find a few trifling finds...
Outside, there's a brick wall beside a sidewalk with vendors set up. I go over, look above, see the glitter of Mica, begin to dig and...
...uncover a vein of mica schist, silver and glittery, and falling out of it are these chunky Herkimer diamonds, big double-terminated quartz crystals, I fill my arms...
Now I'm looking for my jeep, only it seems to have disappeared and I can't remember where I parked it, up side streets - there's old cars stuffed in overgrown balconies, not my jeep, and I'm looking and looking...
Back to the garage sale, through the house, there's an exit on the other side, only they've closed it and I've got to find my way around...
Finding my way, finding my way, someone is digging in the vein that I exposed, the jeep, it isn't there, must have been towed goddamn-it, but there's the vein of mica to be dug, right in town, and I can't wait to get back and dig it all up...
(weird dreams. And there was another, something about bottled water and Jeff Bezos, but - thankfully, I forget...)
Smoky, Hot, Jeep, Work
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 424
The skies grow increasingly hazy with all the forest fires. You can't smell them - yet, but they're increasingly close.
Usually I'd pay my rent up early, get ahead on my bills, - but - what with the state of the world and all I'm just going to sit on it until the last minute.
The restaurant - Thursday, reasonable, Friday, Saturday, Sunday - bananas.
Stupid busy. Busier than we can handle, and they've had an ad in for staff for how many weeks now, without a single nibble.
The jeep, flooring it home from work every night - can't escape that place fast enough - only halfway, at Sitkum or Kokanee creek begins to stall. Power on, jeep off, drift to the side of the road, wait 5, 10 minutes, crank it again and I'm off.
Phew.
Except for Saturday night, when at 9 mile it does the same thing only it isn't restarting and I'm calling AMA for a tow.
Whatever it is it must be trivial.
Sunday, thumb out by the big orange bridge, not 10 minutes and l'm picked up by a retired gent out touring in his vintage 1975 TR6 - little sportscar, I'm squeezed into it, limbs akimbo, popping out every which way, he's in a loud Hawaiian shirt decorated with martinis and bright cocktails, a fine German mechanical chronometer on his wrist, just out for a spin, we chat - he's that comfortable air of someone who's done well in life, for whom everything has worked out and now he's in a position to enjoy it and by goddamn-it he's going to, and I'm along for the ride to witness his good fortune.
The most stylish ride I've had, and I'm not dressed for it.
Work, busy in the day, and then, contrary to expectations, and every year previous, we're busy again in the evening.
** shows up. **'s a regular, stylish, tattooed, pays cash, he's in the other "industry" - on the East Shore, and I remind him that he failed to pay his bill last time, to which he quickly counters "You must have overserved me...". I laugh. He's pretty sharp. But he pays the bill, the bill from today, from last month, and tips 100%, cash, and I'm gonna need this for the jeep, gotta love **.
Most of our customers are pretty decent.
Monday, my new balloons have shown up, I've been out of balloons to make animals for the kids since the beginning of the pandemic, you can't buy them in town & so I'd ordered a whole new batch off of Amazon. Chromes, looking for 260Q Qualatex, found these shiny off brands, and I blow one up - tough, near impossible to blow up, but they're perfect. Perfectly shiny, like fluid gold, silver, metallic colors, I'm pleased. I'll be producing Jeff Koons in no-time.
Now I need a pump.
To the mechanics, describe the problem with the jeep, then - too late for the bus, thumb out to get to work.
A lot longer for a ride.
Work, Monday, the afternoon, busy, then slow, reasonably busy, chug-chug-chug until 7:00 and WHAM!, the restaurants full, inside and out, they keep coming, table after table, we're the only place open for 30 miles, we're full, people sitting at dirty tables, demanding service, it's every service industry nightmare, fucking-the-fuck hell shit, can't keep up, they keep coming, it takes us 10, 20 minutes to get to each table, to figure out they're there, they're new, gong-show.
Bloody hell. I mean, bloody-fucking-hell. And I'm taking no complaints, we're hiring - you want better service? I don't blame you. Get a job here and raise the bar you fucking moron, can't you see we're short staffed? Grab a cloth, a rag, go wipe a table, clear plates, take an order? What? You don't want to? Then fucking shut-up, I don't want to either and yet here I am and YOU - YOU are not making it any better....
My patience is done, we're perpetually short staffed, everywhere on the lake is, but some places - they put up signs, they've reduced the section sizes, the menus, limited the numbers they serve - we've done none of this, we're in over our heads, every fucking day, and I'm getting tired of it.
Tuesday, day off - finally, there's no amount of Vodka can recover me from this. The mechanic calls, found the problem, camshaft sensor, need a new one, all-in $600. Oh, and there's this other thing as well....
The struggle, it never ends, no matter what you make, how hard you work you're never on top of it, and the skies fill with smoke, the end of the world, it's coming, it's nigh upon us, and I'm the hamster running in the wheel...
Halloween in Edmonton (??)
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1315
I'm in Edmonton, working a weekend shift at the old Italian Restaurant - the one I used to work at in Calgary.
Weird, but I'm calling old friends to tell them that I'm here, I've made it back over the mountains...
Anyways, it's Halloween here and you know, you look outside and everywhere there's someone in costume. Over the top costumes, the street is filled with them, a 6-Man dinosaur costume, Maids, Alice in Wonderland, Cap'n Sparrow, everywhere, the level of detail is amazing, everyone - they're pent up from these years of Pandemic...
And I'm waiting for the train and the revelries, they've gone on too long, there's an elevated hospital bed with a bunch of men surrounding it, can't see exactly what they're doing, they're "treating" the partiers that have passed out and fallen down, too drunk, there's one guy, passed out on the bed, and they've got him undressed, are pressing on his belly, a giant shit begins to push out of him, and I'm thinking that this belongs on reddit, and someone is jacking him off at the same time and I've a dark feeling that it's time to get out of here, it's turning into "The Purge"...
(fucked-up dreams, too hot, can't sleep beneath the covers)
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