We remember you in your brief outing Though not so many kind words were spoke But your existence did give others context As we remember the words of this dead joke
Inspired by the story of a stool, Adam, on which sit comedians in a comedy club. The stool ponders the death of a joke onstage. From the fun ‘Everything Is Alive‘ podcast.
If we only wanted to be happy, it would be easy; but we want to be happier than other people, and that is almost always difficult, since we think them happier than they are.
Baron de Montesquieu
Gratitude Journal
I am so happy and grateful that the strawberry sellers were still there yesterday. I got two big bags for 40 baht.
Crave fun, brave sun, he keeps the world as his disguise Slave hung, brave sun, the leader of the starry skies From the tops of the trees To the bowels of the Earth Swings from pillar to post ‘Cos he’s here And now And now He’s here
24 Cardiacs tracks randomly selected by iTunes, in memory of the genius of Dr Tim Smith, The Leader of the Starry Skies.
….never mind the war, take me home again For the last time
Gratitude Journal
I am so happy and grateful to have some energy this morning to ride my bike to get coffee. Great little exercise for me.
It was a weekend of dying. In the morning, Kimi, my great friend in Kuala Lumpur passed away at the too young age of 36. In the afternoon our neighbour’s grandfather passed away at the ripe old age of 90.
My one aim in life was to live longer than my father, something which I managed to surpass in the last year or so. My father died when I was just 18 months old; lung cancer, after a lifetime of being advertised to the health benefits of smoking. It’s difficult to gauge exactly what effect that event had on my life but it is surely significant. Death was a part of my life from the beginning.
One of my earliest memories is aged 4, sitting up in my bed, crying my eyes out, knowing that one day I would die. I couldn’t believe it. What was this thing called life all about if you just ended up dying?
Whilst I was sitting around crying for my friend far away, feeling useless, the neighbours were busy making preparations.
Could I get to KL to be with everyone? What kind of funeral ceremonies do my Muslim friends have? Are they celebrations of someone’s life or sombre occasions like in most of the west?
I’ve become somewhat familiar with Thai funerals unfortunately. Many of Amy’s family are at that age when funerals come along more often. I’m also getting to the age when more and more friends will leave too. And it will be my turn sooner than I’d like too.
In the smaller villages of Thailand it is still traditional to keep the body in the home for around 5 days before cremation. I’m not sure about burial here. All the funerals I have attended have been cremations and the only places I have seen graves are for people with Chinese backgrounds. I think burial should only really be used if a tree is planted along with the body which I know has started to become more popular in some places and seems to make a lot of environmental sense.
Gatherings, food, prayers and respects are shown by visitors to the home, from relatives and the local residents. Family spread out all over the country will drive back to attend. As this grandfather was 90 years old and his family have lived in the village his whole life it was due to be a big turnout. So big that local farmers where hired to clear the jungle land opposite our house to make an impromptu car park. There were some big rats living in there that were quickly grabbed by the locals and I don’t want to guess what for.
Huge gazebos were erected, a PA system bigger than Motorhead (every house seems to own huge PAs – even worse when combined with their Karaoke machines!) Each night for 5 nights, crowds would gather, monks would chant, food would be served until on the final day a huge silver decorated cart would take the body off to the crematorium, followed by everyone as it spiralled through the village.
I sat through an hour or so each night of chanting and it was quite meditative and mesmerising, especially as I was often lost in thought for my friend Kimi. I then struggled through another night of a chief monk talking. I didn’t struggle with his words, though I didn’t understand anything, it was the crappy plastic chairs playing havoc with my back and posture. The monk was hilarious, the crowd often erupting into laughter and I could feel the ease within everyone. He even joked about me and was sad that I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Of course the whole crowd turned to look at me. I think I’m just know locally as ‘that farang’ who lives here. Amy translated a lot for me so I got some of the fun. At the end the monk opened up his homemade accoutrements to make a little extra cash. People gotta eat I guess.
In contrast, I finally heard what happened to Kimi and discovered that Muslim tradition requires the body to be buried as quickly as possible. I don’t know what kind of ceremonies happen around that and I’m guessing not everyone in his family would have been able to attend this.
Kimi had been finalising some concerts for some European bands and the Kuala Lumpur concert will happen this coming weekend. I will fly down to meet Kimi’s wife and all our mutual friends. I will treat the concert somewhat as a memorial to my great friend.
These coincident deaths have obviously brought sharply into focus thoughts around death but as I wrote last time, these thoughts are still confusing. I’m still processing it all.
I’m very grateful to have made friends with Kimi 12 years ago and to have felt such a connection that we remained in contact over this time, worked together often and I visited him many times and he always showed me his big heart; giving me excruciating massages, taking me jungle river swimming and one time directing me into the ocean filled with jellyfish – a story that is repeated for everyone on every visit. He didn’t piss on my jellyfish sting but I know he would’ve if I had asked him.
23 years, 26 years, 52 years, 90 years. It’s not enough for anyone. Soon, all our names will be forgotten, let’s remember whilst we can.
Come hither, my lads, with your tankards of ale, And drink to the present before it shall fail; Pile each on your platters a mountain of beef, For ’tis eating and drinking that bring us relief: So fill up your glass, For life will soon pass; When you’re dead ye’ll ne’er drink to your king or your lass! Anacreon had a red nose, so they say But what’s a red nose if ye’re happy and gay? Gad split me! I’d rather be red whilst I’m here, Than white as a lily and dead half a year! So Betty my miss, Come give me a kiss; In hell there’s no inkeeper’s daughter like this! Young Harry, propp’d up just as straight as he’s able, Will soon lose his wig and slip under the table, But fill up your goblets and pass ’em around Better under the table than under the ground! So revel and chaff As ye thirstily quaff: Under six feet of dirt ’tis less easy to laugh! The fiend strike me blue! I’m scarce able to walk, And damn me if I can’t stand upright or talk! Here, landlord, bid Betty to summon a chair; I’ll try home for a while, for my wife is not there! So lend me a hand I’m not able to stand But I’m gay whilst I linger on top of the land!
Drinking Song from the “Tomb” by Rudimentary Peni
Salut!
Gratitude Journal
I am so happy and grateful for the people I know, my acquaintances. Their part in my life is small but still valuable.
To-do list
More contemplating death videos (and contemplate) ½
Write blog post ✅
What do you want to WOOP?
Clear emails ½
Finish TCRAH 28 and WDS spreadsheet ½
I lost my cool again this morning when Joe sent me a message that the school had complained about me but he didn’t say exactly what. I was a bit shocked and could only guess it was Jimmy who sent the complaint. I tried to stay calm but the anger and upset overwhelmed me very quickly.
I was smart enough to send messages to Amy and George in the hope of a swift reply with some encouragement. Unfortunately, they didn’t get to me in time before talking with Kru Tam and I had to cut that short cos I could feel myself about to cry. I felt disappointed that I did that.
I’ve kept telling myself to stop and wait before talking but I can’t tell myself when I’m in the middle of these fits.
George calmed me down a little with some humour and Amy really calmed me later too. Luckily before I did anything stupid.
Later I also found out what the complaints were actually about but they were so silly that I had to ask what it was all really about. Joe (at TLC) replied that someone there obviously doesn’t like me and it’s stirring things up.
There are too many stupid people in the world. I know I’m probably one too. It can really get you down. But everyone actually made me feel pretty happy by the middle of the morning so that I actually felt pretty proud of myself that I had actually handled things pretty well. Just that I want to not even reach the point of anger and upset at all.
The rest of the week is very easy teaching wise so I’ll relax a little and see what tasks I can accomplish in my spare time.
Each night shift I usually head out for my second coffee at around 10.30pm. Obviously, there’s no coffee shops open but luckily the OTR service stations are 24/7 – their catchphrase is ‘We never close’. Their coffee is not great but the caffeine quota is perfect.
There is an OTR about 15 minutes walk from the office so I can get a little exercise for bonus points too. The first time I went there I just followed the main road which was a little dull and unexciting, as trucks roared past on their night runs from warehouses to stores and others returned home from their evening adventures.
I looked at the map and found a parallel back street that is a million miles away from the dull orangey-yellow flourescence of the main road. The street lighting here is whiter and paler and mostly blocked out by trees. Some places are pitch black underfoot and you have to step heavily to avoid tripping on pavers raised by the roots of the trees. The other thing you notice is the quiet. No one is around, not even cats seem to bother with this street. You get a nervous excitement when someone else is walking on the street, will I get stabbed or punched or who knows. I generally call out a ‘hey’ as I pass and usually just receive a surprised grunt in return. Oh well.
Halfway down is one the opposite side I usually walk, there is a graveyard. I didn’t think too much about it until one night I decided to take some pictures. Some folks had decorated their relatives graves in Christmas lights which offers a jolly juxtaposition. I considered how some people find graveyards spooky but I think that is a result of the gothic architecture of some of the memorial stones. I mean what could happen here – everyone is dead already.
There’s a nice graveyard near where I live. Actually, Adelaide seems to be full of graveyards when I think about it. Anyway, this one is almost like a landscaped park, sectioned off to cater to different ethnicities, cultures and religions. Not so much of the olde Euro-gothic stonework. I had a nice walk around there one evening, only saddened when I came across a marker for someone who had died young. I thought about the lives these people lived, what they may have seen, which parts of the world they came from to get to Australia. I used to look at people in random non-descript places, walking the street or wandering the shops, and zap myself into their heads and try to look through their eyes and take on their entire histories that brought them to this place, right here, right now. A momentary flash of an existence that someone else lived, though nothing you can hold on to and maintain. Now I mostly just ponder my own existence and how someone I never met or knew might browse my death mark one day and wonder about my life. Round and round we go.
I was reminded of the times a few of us used to hang out drinking in a graveyard in Bournemouth before we would head to see a show at Capone’s just across the street. The time when we had finished school forever and took our old textbooks there, burned them on an old grave and then got drunk to celebrate our freedom.
But down this street there is little sign of life and to me, it is the perfect playground for childish mischief. But no kids are about, no underage drinkers in the park or graveyard, barely a barking dog or passing car. Is everyone tucked up nice and early in their neat clean houses, living the dream? Will I be doing that in my little piece of paradise being built in Thailand?
Talking of which, Amy was overrun with paint charts today, having to decide tonight the colours that would be in and outside our house. She asked my opinion, and I’m pretty easy, so I just said paint everything inside white. This is far too boring for her but she can’t tell if any colours that she does choose will work because it’s just too hard to imagine right now. Again, as a typical man looking for a quick solution, I told her to choose what she wants and if it doesn’t work out we can just repaint it later, no problem. I think by the time she went to bed she still hadn’t picked anything for the indoor colours.
5th Jan 2024 – Words from Rich Levine as I have little memory of this now and it seems I didn’t write anything at the time either:
“This was an emotional night. Steve’s memorial gig (there was also another remembrance gig around the same time at our old school Alderman Quilley in Eastleigh) saw his old band THIRST! continue with Philip Beevers from CHICKEN-BONE CHOKED joining. If we didn’t love the SHUTDOWN guys (Neil Cox, Christian Burton) already then them coming from Worcs to play this benefit gig for pretty much nothing cemented that feeling. FLAMING KATIE (Russell Pataki) played too & it was a night of both tears but also togetherness in friendship when this very close-knit scene came out to show their love and commemorate. Prior to his passing, Steve had planned to put out a poetry zine. In the aftermath, Rob & Shaun put this out as a tribute to Steve under the name ‘40,000 Reasons For Living’ (the title came from a line in the R.E.M. song ‘Texarkana’ which was played at Steve’s funeral) & the cover of the zine used the burning house photo that was on the sleeve of fIREHOSE’s ‘Ragin’ Full On’ LP. The same photo was used as the backdrop for this gig flyer.”
1994ever 